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Difference between revisions of "RP:A Little Taste of Envy"

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(Created page with "'''Summary''': ''Talyara makes her way into the forest of Sage to release some rehabilitated bunnies only to discover Larewen lurking in the trees. The pair, who have loathe...")
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Latest revision as of 02:26, 16 August 2019

Summary: Talyara makes her way into the forest of Sage to release some rehabilitated bunnies only to discover Larewen lurking in the trees. The pair, who have loathed one another since sharing affections for the same man have words; however, Larewen’s hatred for the witch runs deep and dark so she attacks. The pair continue to fight until the vampire gets the upper hand, finally tasting the blood of her enemy after so many years.

Northern Sage Forest

Talyara holds a small box close to her chest as she meanders off the dirt path into the thicket of dense forest. She had traveled this way hundreds of times and despite the terrain, she wasn't worried. Once she finds a suitable tree, the witch crouches down at the base of the trunk and rests the box on the earth, opening it very carefully. Inside were six baby bunnies huddled together in the corner. Talyara had found them about six weeks ago after their mother had been killed by a fox--somehow the little ones managed to escape the predator but were orphaned and in danger of perishing as well. The were so little and had yet to be weaned so Taly had taken them to the sanctuary to care for them until they were old enough to be released back into the wild. "Here you go, little ones," she encourages them gently, tipping the box carefully on its side to allow them an easier time of getting out. At first, the bunnies don't move, remaining huddled together; however, after some gentle coaxing from the witch one takes a tentative hop out and soon the others follow. They stay close to Taly for a few moments but eventually grow braver and move further and further away. The witch remains in her crouched position, emerald eyes watching each bunny until they disappear under the cover of the forest.

Larewen || The bunnies only made it so far out of sight before they turned and hopped back the way they came. Eyes widened with fright. The creatures were terrified, their little hearts beating as fast as they could. Eventually, they vanished in the opposite direction of which they’d been released. And as they left the line of sight, a figure appeared, draped in verdant and ebon finery. Her hair was pinned up beneath a veiled fedora, and her hands gloved. A black, lace shaw was draped over her shoulders. Mismatched eyes watched ahead of her and that’s when she spotted Talyara. The necromancer flinched, the sight of the elf upsetting her more than she expected. “Talyara,” she said, and her voice was icy.

Talyara is just moving to stand when the bunnies suddenly beeline in her direction, fear evident in the bright, dark eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" she coos at them with concern in her tone, the witch reaching down to give them each an affectionate pat. She wonders if it could have been another predator, perhaps another fox, which gave them a fright. But even Taly's presence wasn't enough to temper their anxieties and soon the bunnies disappear in the opposite direction. Curiously, the witch straightens and cranes her neck, narrowing her gaze and listening as closely as she can to figure out what had spooked the bunnies. The appearance of the finely dressed figure is more than enough to explain. Talyara sweeps an emerald gaze over Larewen, and she's struck by a memory, something Emrith had once told her about how well manicured, put together, and beautiful the vampire was. It was in stark contrast to the witch who wore a pair of cutoff denim shorts, a cotton t-shirt bearing the emblem and name of Kuruni's Sanctuary across the back, and worn leather boots. The witch whose hair was thrown up in a messy bun simply to keep the strands out of her face as she worked. The constant comparisons to Larewen had been quite hard on Talyara who already struggled with self esteem issues, and they had been detrimental to her health many months ago. "Larewen," Taly greets cooly, her brow arching curiously as she folds her arms over her chest, hiding the W I T C H scar on her forearm from view.

Larewen had been dead, last Talyara saw her. Last they spoke, even. And it did not cross Larewen’s mind that this was the first time the elf had been given the opportunity to see the necromancer in a much more put together state. She doesn’t know about the comparisons Emrith made. At least, he’d never done so to her that she could recall. Mismatched eyes took in the witch’s appearance for the first time outside of costume or cover of night, and Larewen felt affronted. This… mess? is what Emrith kept going back to? Seething hatred suddenly filled those green and brown eyes. Verdant shadows began forming on her fingertips as her gaze became accusatory. Had that been why Emrith left? Why he never returned? Had he gone back to her?

Talyara waits patiently for Larewen to say something, anything to her. But words don't come, only scathing looking and anger that is palpable to the witch even though she no longer possesses empathic abilities. Truthfully, she doesn't remember the last time she had seen Larewen. Or the circumstances surrounding that. It didn't matter now, the vampire clearly hated her. Was it all because of Emrith? An errant lock of hair falls in her face and Taly quickly swipes it away, tucking it behind her tapered ear. "Can I help you with something?" the witch eventually says bitingly. "Or did you only come here to scare off my orphaned bunnies?"

Larewen snorted at Talyara. “Do you really think I wanted to find you?” she asked, biting back laughter. “No, dear. I’m here for the wolves. A sheep now and then doesn’t hurt though.” No. Emrith hadn’t made comparisons to her like he had to Talyara of Larewen. He’d done something worse: painted the picture of an ideal life that Larewen couldn’t give him. Subtly reminding her that he would end her himself, if she got too out of hand. Hints that he had something so much better to be had, but rarely speaking her name. And always with fondness. Always. She knew when he was thinking of Talyara when he didn’t even mention her. Remembering this fueled her fury and suddenly she lashed out at the witch. Shadowy tendrils stretched from her fingers, seeking to bind Talyara where she stood.

Talyara hadn't liked Larewen from the moment Emrith had left her for her. In her logical mind, the witch knew this was unfair. The spellblade had made the decision not Larewen; however, jealousy being what it was, Talyara's feelings of inadequacy culminated in a dislike for her. Then when Emrith manipulated Larewen into helping protect Talyara, things got even worse. How dare he make it seem like she was some damsel in distress to the person she loathed most in this world? Oh the fight they had had after that. But what Talyara hated most in this moment had nothing to do with Emrith, but rather, the condescending way in which Larewen spoke to her. As if she were nothing but a mere stain on the bottom of her shoe. Talyara has every intention of turning on her heel and leaving the presence of the vampire, but she finds herself rooted on the spot. Tendrils of shadow begin to coalesce around her body, binding her in place. "Larewen," Taly hisses warningly between her teeth. "Let me go."

Larewen || “No,” Larewen said, walking around the woman to face her directly. “Claw your way out.” Her lip curled, pearly fangs visible for a brief moment below the edge of her veil. She twisted her wrist, her fingers coaxing the shadowy tendrils tighter. The necromancer drew nearer, and in that same condescending manner, continued to judge the witch. “Where is he?” The question came suddenly, sharply.

Talyara's eyes narrowed to near slits as Larewen refuses to release her, the witch's hands balling into fists at her sides as she watches the vampire draw closer. She feels her breath hitch in her throat as the shadowy holds cinch more tightly around her body. Silently, Talyara begins to call forth her own magic, drawing up energy from the earth through the soles of her booted feet. It's not anything instantaneous, and Larewen probably wouldn't even notice anything at this moment. The vampire's question confuses the witch and it shows in her expression. "Where's who?"

Larewen continued to eye Talyara suspiciously, her nostrils flaring as she dipped in a little too close for comfort. The necromancer was sniffing the witch, seeking a certain smell upon her that she can’t find. Nonetheless, she doesn’t seem ready to simmer down and behave civilly. In fact, she appeared even more infuriated than she’d been moments prior. “Who?” she echoed, venom dripping from her voice. “Emrith, you fool.” It is by the saving grace of delayed reaction that Talyara’s spell, whatever it is, isn’t seen. The slow build up of magic, the subtle shift, doesn’t register as clearly in Larewen’s right eye. “He must have gone back to you.”

Talyara attempts to leans back when Larewen invades her space, getting a little too close for comfort. Was she...smelling her? The witch scrunches up her nose in distaste, her fingers flexing for a moment before curling back into fists once more. This was about...Emrith? Talyara hadn't seen him in months, hadn't seen him since...a cruel, almost vindictive smile curves on Taly's lips as she meets Larewen's mismatched eyes. She doesn't answer immediately, channeling up more energy from the earth but keeping it contained for the time being. "The last time I saw Emrith was months ago. When he asked for me to give him another chance and I turned him down." The witch expects fury on Larewen's part so it is after that little admission that she releases a yell and the earthly magic flows through her at full force. Unlike the vampire, she isn't aiming her magic at the other woman, but rather, hoping that the golden shimmer of light that suddenly seems to surround her frame can fight off the shadowy tendrils that seem to encase her.

Larewen stared at Talyara, and the distraction of her shock at the woman’s words allows the light to bathe those dark tendrils, freeing the witch. The necromancer’s heart stopped for a second, and if Talyara’s hearing was as acute as their kind often were, the witch might hear it resume its thumping in the silence that followed her words. It was like a bolt of ice shot through the necromancer, piercing her. Suddenly, Larewen’s hand lowered and darkness gathered in her palm. It flowed downward, seeping into the very ground beneath their feat. It sought the remnants of any creatures that resided beneath the soil and began to manipulate it. Bone spikes began to erupt from the ground, cutting a path through the forest in their effort to impale Talyara.

Talyara, upon feeling the dark tendrils release their hold on her, stumbles back, her skin tingling from the magic that flowed through her body. She's not always the most graceful even in the best of circumstances and she nearly trips over a rock in her bid to get away, her ankle rolling as she over corrects her stumble. She knows Larewen isn't one to simply let things go, so she is already preparing for a defensive attack. "I bind you, Larewen. Bind you from doing harm against yourself and harm against others," she mutters quietly under her breath. Others being herself in the moment. "I bind you, Larewen. Bind you from doing harm against yourself and harm against others." Emerald eyes look down at the ground as bones from fallen creatures begin to erupt from the earth. Taly's binding spell works to temper Larewen's magic, the wind beginning to pick up speed and whip around them furiously at the witch's workings. "I thought you'd be happy!" Talyara counters, jumping out of the way of a particularly sharp looking bone. "You can have him for yourself n-OWE!" the witch yelps in pain as a bone pierces the sole of her boot and presses into the soft flesh of her foot.

Larewen felt the tightening of her magic’s scope. She felt the spell weaken beneath her fingertips, and she loosed a low growl. Then Talyara spoke out loud, countering Larewen’s violence with words and pacifism. Even then, one of the bones still managed to pierce the woman’s foot. Larewen’s mind was not protected at the moment, and that was why the binding was able to take hold. You can have him for yourself now. Those words echoed within the chambers of Larewen’s mind and she tried once more to bid her magic to her control, to fire something at Talyara. Nothing came and the necromancer collapsed to the ground, her rage seething around her in a flurry of dark shadows. The moment she tried to direct them inward, at herself in an effort to feel something, the spell tapered out again. “Then he abandoned me…” the elf whispered quietly under her breath, a maddened laugh following suit.

Talyara pants from exertion as she hobbles over to a nearby tree, leaning her left shoulder against the trunk as she quickly balances to alleviate the pressure on her now injured foot. The witch watches Larewen cautiously, refusing to ground herself and release the magic coursing through her body. Despite the dizzying effect it had on her, she wasn't willing to relinquish it until she knew the vampire wasn't going to attack her. When Larewen collapses, Taly's first instinct, despite their loathing of one another, is to go to her side and see if she's alright. But those menacing shadows keep her at bay. "He's not worth it," Talyara says through Larewen's words and maddening laughter. "When he left me for you, again, it almost killed me. Literally."

Larewen doesn’t move from where she now sits on her knees, somewhat slumped over. Her shoulders shake with her laughter and sobs. Not worth it. “Ain’t that the truth,” she says under her breath, the words rolling with her heaving. “I still loved him, even after he tried to kill me. I loved him, no matter what he did to me… And he still wanted to go back to you.” She raised a gloved hand to her left breast, pounding the exposed flesh above her corset. “I ripped out my heart and gave it to him once, and even that wasn’t enough.” Her gaze lifted, fixing upon Talyara. Madness danced behind her eyes and she rose to her feet. A moment later, she lurched at Talyara, gloved fingers seeking to grab the witch by the throat. “I hate you!” The words ripped themselves from the necromancer’s throat.

Talyara grunts as she shifts against the tree, twisting so her back presses against the bark instead of her shoulder. She tentatively attempts to put some pressure on her foot only to inhale sharply. She glances Larewen's way and her anger ebbs away to something resembling pity. Or perhaps empathy, for she felt similarly when it came to Emrith. "I was never good enough for him either!" she yells back, willing the vampire to calm down as they shared their mutual heart breaks. "One day he was talking to me about marriage and the next he was saying a part of him would always love you. No matter what. He left me for you, too. Twice. Three times? I lost count." Talyara exhales and looks down at her foot where she could feel blood pooling in her boot. This was a mistake, the letting down her guard, the releasing of her anger, the shifting of her gaze off of the vampire. And of course, she's not nearly fast enough to evade Larewen's attack so her gloved fingers curl around Taly's throat, squeezing the breath out of her. Instinctively, the witch reaches up to wrap her fingers around her assailant's wrist, the witch calling upon those familiar blue flames she often used for warmth or illumination. This time, she calls upon the element of fire and focuses it on Larewen's arm, hoping to burn her so she would relinquish her grip. Taly gasps but very little air passes through her throat.

Larewen knew pain. She knew the feel of dragon’s blood carving into her flesh. When Talyara summoned the fire upon her arm to deter her, it failed. The flesh burned and charred, the stench of rotten meat permeating the area. When Larewen did move her arm, it wasn’t to save it from the flames, but to switch hands. Her other arm shot forward, fingers seeking to curl into Talyara’s hair. Only once she found purchase, would the necromancer attempt to jerk the witch’s head to the side and reveal her throat. “I could never be you,” she growls, her face lowering. If Talyara doesn’t move, she’ll feel the unnecessary breath of the vampire upon her throat.

Talyara continues to channel all her energy into the flames engulfing her hand and Larewen's wrist, but it's not enough to deter the elder vampire and for the first time this evening, the witch feels anxiety creep in. When the vampire's other hand strike out and grabs a fistful of curls, and yanks her head to the side, Taly's flames die away. "Larewen," Talyara says suddenly, and there is a note of panic in her tone. "I swear I never asked him to choose me over you. He hurt us both." The witch is unsure whether the vampire is beyond reason at this point but she was running out of ideas. "Please, don't!" she yells as the necromancer leans in towards her throat, her body squirming as she tries to break free from her grip.

Larewen heard nothing. She didn’t hear the witch’s pleas, nor her words declaring them both victims of Emrith’s love. Instead, her fangs seek flesh; they seek the throbbing of her jugular before clenching to camp down on the elf’s throat. At the same time her mouth came in contact with flesh, magic would be expelled from the necromancer. Memory magic, which sought to crawl its way into Talyara’s mind. Flashes of Larewen’s relationship with Emrith would be seen. Every up, every down. The fight between Emrith, Shishi, and Larewen. The pain Larewen endured each time he left or thought of Talyara played. And the betrayal. That memory lasts the longest. Larewen, unacting as Emrith loosed upon her cut after cut after cut of his mana-sapping blades, nearly killing her. She might even feel the longing that accompanied Larewen ripping out her heart, the hope that perhaps, maybe just maybe he’d kill her. This one occurred before the attack, and was last for a reason: at that time, Emrith was with Talyara and struggling to decide between the two. It is, perhaps, the most fear Larewen ever felt. That she, despite all her power, would lose to a witch whose name she’d only ever heard from her lover’s lips.

Talyara lets loose a scream as Larewen's fangs pierce the side of her throat. She was close enough to the sanctuary if someone were outside they might hear her cries and come investigate, right? Talyara continues to struggle, trying to pull herself away from the vampire, raking her nails along any part of her flesh that she could reach. Only when the memories begin to force themselves into the witch's mind do her hands fall idle. Flashes of memories cross her visage causing Taly's eyes to roll, all the pain and anguish, all the fear and vulnerability rush into Talyara's being. It had been a long time since Taly had felt anything like that, it was similar to when she had empathic abilities. Somewhere during the magical transfer of memories Taly begins to weep. Weeping for her pain from this attack, weeping for the old Taly who had been victim of Emrith's love and had felt similar emotions to what Larewen had felt, weeping for Larewen who endured too much at the spellblade's hands as well. Taly feels her body begin to tremble, magic overflowing her veins and overwhelming her lithe body. In a last ditch effort to free herself, Talyara slams her fist into Larewen's side, all that residual magic she had channeled earlier, adding strength and power that the witch normally did not possess behind it. "Enough!"

Larewen felt the fist hit her side, and it was with enough strength (vampires are, after all, vulnerable when feeding) that the necromancer was cast to the side. She laid stunned upon the ground, providing Talyara with ample time to escape her frenzy. It doesn’t help that Larewen is also crying; she’d given up much for Emrith, set aside many things, many desires, because she knew it would turn him against her. And now she was alone again. Mostly, anyway. No attempt is made to rise from the ground.

Talyara falls backwards as Larewen is cast to the side thanks to her more powerful than normal punch. Her left hand raises to cup the side of her throat, pressing against her wounds to apply pressure. She's feeling weak and feverish, and her attempts to stand are thwarted by her shaking legs. So the witch has to settle for scurrying away a few yards on her behind. The witch's breathing is ragged and she watches the vampire cautiously as if waiting for another attack.

Larewen didn’t give chase. No, she didn’t have it in her to do that. She could taste the witch’s blood on her lips, in her mouth, and it tasted oh so sweet after so many years of lusting for it. Gods, she wanted to savor that taste: the taste of her enemy.

Talyara didn't need to be told to flee, she knew she had to. Willing herself to a stand, she quickly turns from Larewen and begins to limp away as quickly as her injured foot would allow, back down the path and towards the sanctuary where there was people and safety and no crazy ex lovers of her ex boyfriend.