Professor Carmilla Crowe
A Very Pissed Necromancer
Posts: 27
(6/6/02 8:49 pm)
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.:Gurlack:.
*Blackness consumed a dampened cell, four and eight legged creatures scattered the various walls and invaded their cracks, the only sound drips of unseen water echoing all around and deep ragged breathes, breathes that were drug from a tired throat the throat of a tired being in the middle of all this.
On a cold stone puddle ridden floor, the Headmistress of the defeated Hogwarts lay.
Healing scars, and lines of ripped flesh littered her thin barely clothed body, no blood spilt from them, they were dry and old, forced open gashes that were even more forcibly closed. Thick perfectly curved legs were pulled up against a tiny chest, the headmistress was cold and beaten, her enhanced body being used as an experiment for creatures that were …far beyond her level of evil. Carmilla tried to keep her thoughts clear, tried to keep them focused, so that she heal all the recently inflicted wounds. But she couldn’t focus, her mind was in too many places, she was worrying about too many things. Thin fingers held tightly to battered caramel toned flesh as muscles tensed and relaxed uncontrollably, Her body shook, shook with fear, with anger…but mostly and certainly with fear.
Why had she agreed to come with Aseri? Why didn’t she just destroy everything there? Tomal was alive, Teak would’ve been able to save them all, why didn’t she just wait? Because she was weak, because she couldn’t handle the thought of murdering the ones she loved, because she hated losing. But she had lost, she’d lost everything. Her mind bated and commended her all at once. She’d saved the lives of those she could at the price of her life but…it was her life…it was nothing, nothing but darkness, nothing but hate, that’s all she was, a Necromancer - a creature that everyone feared, everyone but these things.
Twin dots of red floated in the darkness in front of her, black eyes finding them easily. Carmilla gasped, her throat locking up, her body finding what little strength it had left and forced itself to back away immediately. Carmilla shoved her nearly bare back up against the wall, hands and face flattened as best they could against it.
“O-on…esaelp, esaelp…ton niaga…” Her voice was tired, ragged and not of her own. She hadn’t spoken a word of English since she arrived to this place, she couldn’t, it was the language of humans, and down here, the way she was treated, she was no human, she was a creature, an animal, so…she spoke like one.
Those twin red dots moved closer, slowly descending upon the helpless warrior, even as she flattened against the farthest wall in a vain attempt to escape its approach, a dry rasping breath rattling at the damp air, somehow filling this tiny cell for a brief time before it sank into the dank moss and mildew coated walls. A short, accusing laugh that carried with it utter contempt, a vile loathing for this shattered being it had stripped of pride and will to fight back. Mere red pinpricks that shone with a brilliant intensity, an undeniable, unfightable will, truly dead eyes that blazed with a passionate intensity and life no living being could replicate, moved with a gut wrenching slow purpose ever closer.
They stopped, ceasing motion to seemingly hover barely two feet from the woman that now cowered, sunk into the crevice where wall met floor. Rustling in the darkness, dry and crisp, a creaking that most certainly could not be produced by something of flesh and blood. Cold hardness closing around her throat, tightly clenching flesh in a grip of marble like bone and caked on flesh, a numbing cold searing through nerves to the head and through her chest, a presence touching the woman’s heart, allowing her to feel a feathery touch nothing alive should be subjected to. The grasp tightening and lifting, dragging the being to her feet, holding her in place staring straight into those gleaming red lights as she writhed, gasping for air, against a grip she could not break. It released her at last, after barely a few seconds, moments that seemed to spin out into an eternity of torment.
“Sey, niaga niaga dna niaga erom, rof lla emit ouy era srou. Won emoc.” A voice that chilled the soul even of this woman, a voice that would drive most into the friendless dark of insanity, rattling and rasping the stench of ancient death and decay rolling over her face, filling her nostrils and clogging that sense totally. Creaking of dead ligaments, a sound that bore those terrible lights away from her vision, a passing that should have eased her aching yet only filled her with more terror, it signaled not that creature leaving her, but her following it. A signal she could not, and would not disobey.
((MUWHAHAHAHA’s and leaves it at that* I’m just leaving things to your imaginations…and NO SHE AINT GETTING RAPED pervs…*mutters and wanders off idly*))
"I've lost enough children in my lifetime, I'll not lose you, not today and not to them."
- Tomal Saichairi: The Immortal One - |
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