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Post by Esme M. Lolland on Dec 11, 2008 10:59:02 GMT -1
Esme began to panic, how was it that she couldn't remember any of the protection spells she had been taught the moment she needed them the most? She felt her heart beat quicken it's pace and it felt like the blood in her veins had turned to ice.
She backpedaled toward the door, quickly but cautiously. She didn't want to turn and run, but she didn't want to trip and multiply the chances of being caught. She put her hands behind her, attempting to feel when the door came closer, not once taking her eyes off of the woman following.
She began to mumble, to chant actually. Anything and everything that sounded remotely magical, hopefully, at some point, she'd stumble across whatever word or phrase it was that she needed.
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Marsaili
Fey
Kelpie
Care for a ride?[Mo0:16]
Posts: 39
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Post by Marsaili on Dec 12, 2008 7:31:12 GMT -1
The closer Marsaili came, the farther the girl ran. It was amusing, for a time, but the hunt could only go on for so long. She increased her pace, still not putting more than a casual effort into it.
The girl turned to face her - as if eye contact would be a deterrent. She could taste the panic now, and it brought a hungry glint to the true red of her eyes.
Then the end of the hall came into sight. There was a door, but with their eyes locked together the girl had to feel for it. Marsaili's smile widened. She loomed, anticipation quickening her steps. But then-
Mumbling, faint chanting. The possibility of a spell made her cautious, made her hesitate. Naturally the kelpie was no stranger to magic, but the most she could work with it was glamour. She was old, and she was hardy, but a true spell-slinger could do her at least temporary harm.
Yet even with all her senses peeled, she didn't feel the tingle of a real spell. Her eyes narrowed.
With every ounce of equine and fey speed granted to her, she blurred to the door, slamming her open palm against it as she used her arm to corner the girl.
"Pretty words, witch, but where's the sting?" she whispered.
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Post by Esme M. Lolland on Dec 13, 2008 21:30:33 GMT -1
Esme was hoping, praying that she'd find the spell that she needed to protect herself. She fumbled at the door behind her back as the woman seemed to start to realize that the words coming out of Esme's mouth didn't hold as much of a punch as they should have.
It was right when the door began to crack open that she could no longer see the woman who was standing in front of her only moments before. Then barely a few seconds later there was a slam as the door behind her was shut again and she was pinned between the woman and the door.
Esme whimpered in fear and sunk down on the door. The woman's taunts stung, just as much as she hoped the fake spells would have. She mentally ran through her options: she could try and remember the spells that she needed, she could try and run, even though she most obviously could not outrun this woman, or she could scream for help... that wouldn't scare her off. If only Esme kept her mace in a more accesible place than the bottom of her purse, it would be too obvious that she was searching for her way out.
Esme was tough out of options, so instead she just stared at the woman, fear obviously painting her face. What is one to do when they're in a situation like this? Her self defense classes taught how to defend herself against men, not women. Great. Esme remained silent, maybe she'd figure out what to do as time went by... hopefully.
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Marsaili
Fey
Kelpie
Care for a ride?[Mo0:16]
Posts: 39
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Post by Marsaili on Dec 16, 2008 6:24:30 GMT -1
Marsaili followed the girl down, keeping close, pinning her to the door through sheer weight of presence. The fact that her palm had probably dented the door (however minutely) just meant she was more confident in her ability to keep the witchling right where she wanted her.
Though her human skin didn't give her quite the same olfactory sensation and intimidation factor that her normal form did, it did give her a certain flexibility - the ability to keep pressure against the door, for instance, while scenting along her latest prey's neck. Mmm, she was so... fresh.
"You're making this rather easy, witchling," she murmured, pulling back to match her vermilion gaze to the frightened eyes before her. "Why?"
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Post by Esme M. Lolland on Dec 17, 2008 0:06:55 GMT -1
As the woman neared Esme, she remembered a spell, not quite the spell she wanted, but if she used it at the right time she'd be able to at least get out of the hallway. If she was out of the hallway, there was more of a chance she ran upon someone who could help her.
Esme waited for that moment to use the spell, an immobility spell. The one she thought of was only effective for about 30 seconds, but if Esme ran as quickly as possible she could probably make it to the end of the hallway and out of the door.
It wasn't until the woman moved her head back to make eye contact that Esme saw the perfect opportunity. She could run underneath her arm and straight towards the door. Silently Esme cast the spell and before even waiting to make sure she couldn't move, Esme ran underneath her arm and as quickly as possible.
She begged her feet to move quicker as they pounded down the hallway, she mentally counted the seconds, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand. At about 20 seconds Esme reached the door and she threw it open, and ran as quicly as possible away from the building, towards the campus police's office. "Help!" she shouted as loudly as she could, as she heard the door behind her slam open once more.
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Marsaili
Fey
Kelpie
Care for a ride?[Mo0:16]
Posts: 39
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Post by Marsaili on Dec 18, 2008 6:41:29 GMT -1
A hiss left her as she found herself immobilized, particularly troublesome since she couldn't move to replace the air. The binding was a hot prickle along her senses, like nettles wrapped like serpents around her limbs.
She couldn't prevent the witch from slipping out from beneath her. Couldn't turn to follow the pounding footsteps down the hallway, couldn't prevent the other door from opening.
But a few straining moments later, she could turn around. She could break into an all out run, her eyes fairly glowing with red fury. And as she ran, she could... change. What started as the clacking of boots on tile fell away into the clattering thunder of hooves.
Bursting through the doors, Marsaili shook out her dripping mane, her stride evening as she reached level ground away from the building. Her breath steamed out in the cold air, and paired with her draft-like build made her look like she should be hauling some sort of hellish sleigh. A silver bridle glinted innocently against the sheer black of her coat and mane.
The witchling was running to mortal authorities - what help they could be, the kelpie didn't know. But she did know that they were much less likely to believe predatory tales of a poor, panicked horse who was obviously well cared for than they were of a smirking human. She dimmed the red in her eyes with an effort of will, letting out a shrill whinny as she ran the witchling down.
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Post by Esme M. Lolland on Dec 18, 2008 11:14:30 GMT -1
As Esme screamed for help a short rotound man emerged from the building she was headed to. He had a badge on his lapel and a gun it a holster on his side, his hand was resting on the gun, ready to shoot.
She ran as quickly as possible toward the man as he gave her an inquisitive look, Esme turned her head around to see what he was looking at. For some reason the woman who was following her was now a horse, either she was a horse or Esme was no longer being chased by the woman but rather by a mad horse.
The man mumbled something about 'stupid kids being afraid of animals' as he walked past Esme to pet the horse. As he walked past her Esme grabbed his gun from it's holster. Why did I grab this? With my luck I'll probably shoot my own foot before I do any damage. Oh, I know why: I can't seem to remember magick! she thought.
Cocking the gun and pointing it at the horse she shot, the first shot flew right past it. The others, Esme hoped, had hit. Not paying attention she began to back away, trying to move as far away from the predator as possible. Esme's only solution, yet again, was to run. Which way to run, though? Abandoning the gun she ran off yet again, towards a group of people just getting out of class.
((Sorry, I was half-awake and didn't even think about it.))
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Marsaili
Fey
Kelpie
Care for a ride?[Mo0:16]
Posts: 39
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Post by Marsaili on Dec 18, 2008 21:07:05 GMT -1
At the momentary sting of the bullets, Marsaili reared, letting out a screaming whinny - much more out of annoyed defiance than out of pain, since she could heal the wounds from steel easily enough.
But as the witchling ran again, leaving behind a rather splendidly plump mortal man, Marsaili feigned the pace of a mortally wounded beast seeking human attention. Worried nicker, limp, limp, worried nicker. Mmm, yes, he came like a fly to honey, and all she needed was his hand against her neck to draw him up onto her back.
Miraculously more agile, or so it would surely appear to the human trapped on her back, Marsaili whirled and raced for the nearest river. Polluted or no, it was only tradition - and besides, she was sure the startled shouts of increasing panic that her surrogate prey was letting out would ring like accusations on the witchling's ears.
She had all the time in the world to track down the one who'd shot her. Eating along the way was just good planning.
((I can edit this as needed...))
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Post by Esme M. Lolland on Dec 18, 2008 23:52:27 GMT -1
((I edited in a way that I hope you won't have to edit too much unless you see fit))
Esme shivered as a whinny rang through the grounds as she backed away from the horse. Maybe it was the whinny that caused her to move away from the abandoned area or it was because she was so amazed and frightened that she had wielded a gun. But whatever it was, she left the area and the poor man to fend for himself.
Esme listened as closely as possible for the clip clop of horse's hooves, but there was nothing. If it weren't for the fact that Esme was so aware of this person's other form Esme would have thought that the chase was over. Perhaps the woman had been distracted by the man or else she gave up... but Esme couldn't quite believe that.
Trying to take a steadying breath she walked down the street with the group of students from the evening class that was let out later than usual. She tried her hardest to conceal her powers, she had never really learned that helpful of a spell to do such a thing but she had long ago realized that when she was relaxed it was much harder to detect her powers. She tried to settle down, but she was just too afraid. It was only a matter of time before this person came after her again, the chase had to have been too much fun. they seemed to have the mentality of a mass murderer, she wasn't going to stop just because her prey ran, that actually made the chase that much more fun.
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Marsaili
Fey
Kelpie
Care for a ride?[Mo0:16]
Posts: 39
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Post by Marsaili on Dec 31, 2008 23:21:47 GMT -1
Racing with a giddy sort of exhultation at being freed of her slower, two-legged form, Marsaili headed unerringly for the most secluded waterway within range that could provide an appropriate depth. Granted, she wouldn't be completely out of sight, but the fewer people poking around the better. Not that she minded taking care of a few witnesses. As she took that final leap with a joyous nicker, her vermillion eyes vanished briefly beneath blissful ebony lids. Water, cold as any she'd ever known, shattered along her senses, as welcoming to her as a warm hearth fire might be to one of a drier nature. The chill melted the ache from her wounds, and as her eyes slid open again she swam deeper into it. There was a current here, and she let it pull her, treading leisurely through the eddys with all the grace of a ballerina. Her passenger was none so joyful, particularly when she wriggled him off of her back. It was a quick death, as they often were - she wasn't particularly malicious, when it came down to it, with one possible exception, now. But vengeance was different - this was simple survival. She ate quickly and cleanly, devouring the poor man down to the last sliver of bone and cooling organ - save for the liver. As this last morsel drifted upward and the kelpie floated with sluggish satiation beneath it, an idea struck. Propelling herself upward to chase it, she changed, again taking on a human aspect, her slender fingers grasping the organ as they both broke the surface. It was useless to her as food, but as a message? Mmm, waste not, want not... ((I'm not sure if there's much room to continue this? Do we want to end it, or shall I find clothes for her somewhere and resume stalking you? ))
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