#what the fuck was ‘I love him; his shoulders his angular slightly sloped frame’
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I am half way through all quiet on the western front why did none of you tell me that bäumer was very gay for kat? Was I just supposed to find out myself?
#what the fuck was ‘I love him; his shoulders his angular slightly sloped frame’#and ‘we have a greater more gentle consideration for each other than I should think even lovers do’#and ‘his gigantic distorted shadow falls across me like home’#that goose scene was a dinner date y’all I will not hear otherwise#not that i’m complaining#this is like german in memoriam except written decades earlier by someone who actually experienced the front#anyways#all quiet on the western front
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Of Vices and Virtues
AN: This story is being crossposted from my Fanfiction account. I figured I might as well post it up here, there’s not enough black!oc X-Men fanfictions to be honest. If anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this story let me know.
Summary: Claudia Walker created the perfect facade she had a simple life, a simple job. There was nothing remarkable about her. Until two men offer her the chance to do something with her powers to stop a war looming on the horizon. In a fight between good and evil, loyalties strain and relationships grow. The world's changing for better and worse, and Claudia is right in the middle of it.
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men just the OCs in the story.
Trigger warnings: none I can think of
Word Count: 4.3k
Chapter One: The Queen of Hearts
The music started up, with the sultry tango beats of "Whatever Lola Wants" by Sarah Vaughn. Her colorful voice lit like a spark in the air, and with it, the seductive lyrics of the song. The air seemed to crackle as I spun away from my dance partner, but a strong hand ripped me back into his grasp. With glittering eyes I pressed myself against him, his hand tenderly slipping over my back. We side-stepped as the singer continued to croon the audience with her hypnotic lyrics.
"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets,"
"And silly man, Lola wants you," I sung to the man, who was completely entranced.
He stopped dancing to trace along my curvy figure slowly, extracting a long breath from my lips. He rejoined my hands smoothing his over my fingers. I crossed my left foot seductively in front of the right, while cocking my head mischievously to side. He smiled and placed his right hand dangerously low on my back. Before he could change direction again, I elevated my right foot, kicking it behind me, and situated behind his right leg, coquettishly hooking around his toned calf. I smirked, savoring the attention I was getting from my dance partner and the men who were watching me dance.
The man copied me by kicking his right leg between the middle of my two. He was daring, and he pressed my chest into his.
"I always get what I aim for. And your heart and soul is what I came for,"
The song finished up and I pulled away from him, creating space between us, "You may go now, I've had my fun," I instructed, trailing my index finger up over the man's tie.
He nodded and shuffled off of the dance floor. I made my way off of the dance floor, to order another drink. It was Saturday night, and the nightlife was at its height. I took my seat on the bar stool, signaling for the bartender to pour me another drink. I grabbed my clutch that was hiding underneath the chair and opened it, pulling out a compact mirror.
I looked at my reflection, my eyes were a brilliant almond shape, with dark brown irises that held knowledge and wisdom beyond my years. My lashes were long, dark, and thick. My lips were red with lipstick, but full and perfect. My wide nose curved in a delicate slope and I could clearly see my defined cheekbones. I combed my fingers through my hair making sure that every hair was in place and checking that my makeup hadn't smudged. I snapped my mirror shut and placed back it back into my purse, a sigh escaping me.
I had always known I was different since I was a child. I always felt out of place. I never blamed my parents for that. They loved me and they always did what they thought was the best for me. Well, at least what was good for them I suppose.
It was at the age of eighteen when I left my home, leaving my past in Pennsylvania far behind me. My memories from there were unpleasant, to say the least, and I needed to leave. To start a new life elsewhere, in central New York. Money was never a problem, I had a decent paying job as a psychologist's assistant at a private practice and a well furnished apartment. But I still found myself drinking away my sorrows. At this point in my life, I had to every reason to be happy, but I knew deep down I wasn't. There was always that loneliness, biting at my insides.
Someone cleared their throat next to my ear, something I wasn't all to fond of.
I glanced at them, raising an eyebrow, "Something I can do for you, stranger?" I asked, barely masking my annoyance.
He smiled, and I made a note to admire it. He was pretty handsome it, but he was overly cocky, I could tell by the way he made himself comfortable next to me, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the bar, and getting way too into my personal space. Not to mention he was easily in his mid-forties. I had just turned twenty-two
“Fucking creep, I thought.
"Michael, my name is Michael, Mike for short. You can help me by maybe letting me buy you a drink,"
I raised an eyebrow at this, he moved pretty fast. He must do this all the time to women he thought were drunk. Too bad for him, it took me more than a couple of drinks to have lost my common sense. Pushing my shoulder length, curled black hair out of my face. I faced him to reply as two other men approached, I didn't want any trouble, but the audacity of the man made my blood boil.
"And what do you expect in return for this drink?"
He smiled and leaned in closer to me, placing a hand on my thigh.
"The bastard thought he was in, didn't he?" I thought.
"Well, maybe just a friend," he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and smiled lightly at him, leaning in until our lips barely touched.
"With you? I'd rather watch the grass grow," I replied dryly, eying him up and down, as if he was something I'd find on the bottom of my shoe. "My mama didn't raise me to accept drinks from men I barely know, and my daddy taught me how to break a hand in seven different places, so remove it or I'll do it for you, Mike," I punctuated my sentence by grasping his middle finger in my fist and slowly bending it back, until I heard the pop that let me knew I dislocated it. "Next time I'll break it," I threatened.
"You bitch-" He began, but was interrupted mid-word by me.
"Run along, before I make you gouge out your eyes with a butter knife," I commanded boredly, putting effort into making my words go through the older man's head. The man walked away dutifully and I smirked. "There's a good boy," I cooed, turning away from him and took a sip of my vodka martini.
I heard a chuckle of laughter behind me, causing me to turn around again and examine the new arrivals behind me. The two men who I saw previously were now directly behind me, they appeared to be in their early thirties or late twenties. Despite being slightly tipsy, I couldn't help but gape a little when I properly looked at the two men.
The taller of the two had his thick and muscled arms crossing themselves in front of his broad chest. Clad in a short navy trench coat over a pair of long, black pants and a black turtleneck, his perfectly slicked back hair was the ultimate factor that completed the dangerous, rugged look he was probably going for. He looked like a mafia member, or something.
His icy blue eyes were fixed onto my wandering brown eyes unflinchingly, as a dark brow rose to mock me, to tell me that he had seen me appraising his impressive form. I raised my eyebrow and smirked saucily before I turned my gaze away from the taller man and shifted it to the other one, now standing in front of me.
Unlike Mr. Mafia Man and his dark attire, this man was significantly more professional looking. With his sharp pressed grey blazer jacket, a white button up shirt worn inside, the matching dark grey pants and his polished shoes, this guy pretty much screamed 'successful businessman'. He, along with the other man had sharp masculine features – sharp nose, strong, angular jaw line, and the clearest blue eyes I have ever seen. His eyes were so blue they resembled crystals, and were framed by his dark brows. His short, dark hair was tousled casually.
"Your quite clever," the shorter man complimented, with a thick British accent.
"So I've been told, but I've done nothing tonight that would warrant such a compliment," I replied, looking at the man as I lifted my glass to my lips, taking another sip of my martini.
"I think you have, actually. The song, 'Whatever Lola Wants', it fits you," the man remarked.
I raised an eyebrow in confusion, although I had an inkling to know where this was going, "How so?" I asked curiously, tilting my head slightly.
"Has anyone told you that you have an excellent mutation?" the shorter man asked abruptly, a small smile on his face.
"Mutation? You call every woman you meet a mutant?" I snorted, widening my eyes and let out a chuckle that matched my expression, disbelief. "Wow! This must be the night, where the worst pick-up lines are thrown at me," I drawled, before taking another sip of my drink. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but I am just me. I am normal," I laughed, and the taller man just huffed annoyed.
The shorter man smiled at me, then I noticed that his fingers were pressed onto his temple and he was still looking at me. I frowned at the slight nudge in my head. It didn't hurt, but it was very irritating. I focused on strengthening my shield against the nudges. I felt the nudge grow stronger, it was attacking my shield before it finally gave up and left.
The man looked mildly surprised and my mouth turned into a small frown. I really didn't know why he was surprised. Unless.
Mutant.
I glared angrily at him, "I don't know who the hell you are, but stay out of my head!" I snarled. "You have no right!"
I always thought I was alone, that quickly changed only a couple years ago, but ever since that encounter...well I'm uneasy around other mutants, my own mutation was something I kept to myself, only select people in my family knew about it even.
He put his hands up in surrender, "You're right, my apologies. But how? No one has ever been able to feel me before. Are you a telepath?" he asked, studying me with curiosity shining through his eyes.
"No, I'm just highly aware of myself and those around me," I answered with a slight growl, slamming my glass down on the counter nearly breaking it. "You have your tricks, I have mine," I added, glaring at him.
"My name is Charles Xavier," the man introduced in an irritatingly friendly tone. "And this," he said, gesturing to the other man, "Is Erik Lehnsherr. We're like you. We're different. And we need your help. We are-"
"Is there a private place where we could talk?" Erik interjected hastily in a strong German accent, looking mad and broody, as he looked from one side to the next.
I didn't particularly want to know what, if anything at all, they were to offer. I sat there in silent for a few seconds, first looking at Charles, then at Erik, then back at Charles. If this was a game, it certainly wasn't funny in the least.
"Why should I even try to talk to you two? The first thing Mr. Xavier says to me is that I have a mutation and then he follows that up by trying to intrude my thoughts," I argued. "It has been a long and trying night gentlemen, and I'm over it. So, I'm going to try and scavenge what little fun I can find," I concluded, flashing them a faux smile just as a saxophone moaned through the opening of "I Put a Spell on You" by Screamin' Jay Hawkins.
"What do you know, my favorite song," I added grinning, and shook my head beginning to walk away from the two men, only to be stopped by Erik gripping my arm tightly. I leveled him with an icy stare, "Let go of me right now, or I will make you feel pain that you thought was unimaginable," my voice low and threatening.
"Erik..." Charles called warningly.
Erik loosened his grip, freeing my arm slightly, but he made it clear I wasn't going anywhere, "We know you know exactly what you are, and we know what you're capable of. Stop playing coy with us," Erik stated coldly.
"Two strange white men walk into a bar, approach a black woman and accuses her of being a mutant. Forgive me, but you expect me not to find that a bit suspicious," I sassed, before yanking my arm completely out of his grip. I spotted a booth occupied by two men and I walked towards the two men, I gently grasped their chins and looked them in the eyes. "Due to your undying love for me, you two are going to give up your seats," I demanded, manipulating their desires so they reflected my own wishes.
"Of course," one man said eagerly, sliding out of his seat.
"Your wish is my command," the other man stated, getting out of his seat as well.
"Hmm, I know," I smiled, lightly laughing. "Now leave me be," I commanded, shooing them away and the two men nodded their heads and kissed the back of my hands before their departure.
I looked over to Erik and Charles, to see Erik roll his eyes in annoyance and huff before he whispered something to Charles, whose expression was unreadable. Charles and Erik sat in the seat across from me, Erik sat a stiff as a board while Charles seemed relaxed.
I interlocked my fingers together, "Ah, now that is how a gentlemen should behave. I think you should learn from them, Mr. Lehnsherr," I suggested my lips curving into a smirk.
Erik scowled at me, "You never told us your name," he remarked irritated.
"You never asked, Mr. Lehnsherr. Maybe if Mr. Xavier, greeted me properly, you would know," I countered, looking between the two men. "Although, something tells me that you two already know," I added, arching my brow and leaning forward.
"Miss...Claudia Walker, am I right?" Charles asked.
I quickly glanced at Erik and it seemed like he had one eye concentrated on me whilst the other was focused at the crowd in the club.
I focused back on Charles, "You would be correct," I replied, lapsing back into an easy lean. "How exactly did you two find me?" I asked curiously.
"Well, I was in Cerebro-" Charles began.
"Cerebro?" I interjected, scrunching my eyebrows together in confusion.
"It's a machine that helps me locate people like us," Charles explained, he was way too excited to answer my question. He was almost bubbling with excitement. "I was surprised to find you. Your signature was so strong, powerful, which intrigued me. I quickly got your coordinates and here we are," Charles finished happily.
"You certainly didn't make it easy," Erik mentioned, in a slight annoyed tone.
"Hardly, you two are here now aren't you?" I questioned, my tone was playful and I could tell that it was grating Erik's nerves.
"Really? So my eyes weren't playing tricks on me yesterday?" he questioned, as he leaned forward slightly.
"Depends on what you saw," I quipped, a small smile beginning to show.
"I saw you start that brawl. The way your hand curled and your eyes narrowed, you made that skinny man kick the fat, bald one in his groin," Erik remarked, his own mouth curving as he smirked. "You nearly got us entangled in that predicament," he added, looking at me with his piercing eyes.
Not looking away I smiled dangerously, "Yeah that was me," I admitted with a shrug. "I had an inkling that was someone was following me yesterday, I just didn't know it was you two. Whoops," I commented, my voice dripping with sarcasm and shrugged my shoulders again.
"Well, speaking of powers, you know my power. And we would very much like to know all about yours, Miss Walker," Charles started.
"Please, call me Claudia," I started. "I'll demonstrate my powers, but Mr. Grumpy over there has to show me his first," I proposed, flicking my chin out, motioning towards Erik.
Erik's eyes met were now fully focused on me again and I returned his stare.
Charles smiled and leaned forward, his elbows on the table, "Erik has the ability to manipulate metal,"
I narrowed my eyes at Erik and he glared at me in return. He would be very powerful, even with the tiniest bit of metal he would be able to kill someone with the flick of his hand.
"What's that old phrase again?" I asked aloud, tilting my head up as if I was pondering the question. "Oh, that's right. Seeing is believing," I finished, looking back at Erik, raising my eyebrow in challenge.
Erik raised his eyebrows as well, before focusing his eyes on the cutlery in front of him. Nothing happened for a while before they started shaking and eventually they lifted off the table. My eyebrows raised as I stared at the floating knives and forks.
"Do you believe now?" Erik asked, and I could see a ghost of a smirk.
"Well, I'll be damned," I gasped smirking, as I watched the utensils gracefully land back on the table.
"There you go," Erik said. "We showed you ours, now show us yours,"
I sat up in my seat and reached a hand across the table and turned it palm up, "Mr. Xavier, would you be so kind to give me your hand?" I asked.
"Call me Charles, please," Charles replied, sliding his own hand into mine without a moment's hesitation, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Erik grimace.
"You’re too trusting by half, Charles," Erik commented, shaking his head.
I closed my fingers gently around Charles', and slowly a broad, blissful smile stretched across his face as I channeled sensations of contentment into him.
"An empath," he breathed. "My, that's...mmm, that's lovely," Charles laughed, I smirked as I slid my hand back across the table, and Charles took a moment to compose himself.
"Want to see something else?" I asked grinning.
"Yes, please!" Charles exclaimed, grinning back excitedly.
I focused my gaze on one of the knives on table, and narrowed my eyes in concentration. A purple aura surrounded the knife as it raised itself off of the table and floated in mid-air and I maneuvered it to have the blade facing Erik as Charles watched, fascinated at the display I was putting on.
"Remarkable," Charles breathed.
"You’re telekinetic," Erik stated boredly, snatching the knife out of the air by the handle.
"I am," I replied, looking at Erik. "Now, you two are going to tell me why I've been performing tricks like I'm in some circus show," I demanded, glancing between the two men in front of me.
Charles laughed, "You have amazing gifts, a mutation, an ability. Erik and I are recruiting people to help us and in the process you get to learn how to control your powers,"
"Recruiting?" I asked confused, looking at them suspiciously. "For what?"
"That is what we're here to talk to you about," Charles said, sensing the sudden guarded tone in my voice. His eyes held mine in an intense stare. "A war is upon us, Claudia,"
"Yes, I know. The one between the Soviets and America, everyone knows that," I stated, now leaning back into my seat. My mind was reeling at where the conversation was going. Charles nodded firmly. "But what has that got to do with mutants? Or me, more specifically?"
"One of the agents at the CIA discovered a plot, the spark that lit the fire for the nuclear war," This time, it was Erik that had spoken. His soft yet gruff voice flooded into my ears with its tough resonance. "She had gone undercover to see one of the American Colonel's getting pressured into installing missiles into Turkey. That was the first step to angering the Soviets, and they are planning to retaliate. From what she had described, it had been a mutant who was threatening the Colonel,"
"A mutant?" I questioned. "But why?"
"We have no idea as of yet," Charles offered, leaning back into his seat as well.
It was obvious to me that Charles was troubled by the fact that a fellow mutant would want to start a war between two powerful nations.
"Well, do you know who the mastermind is behind all of this?" I asked again, raising an eyebrow.
"Sebastian Shaw," Erik spat, the venom clear in his words. A frown was etched deep into his forehead and his eyes were glaring at the coffee table, as though willing it to break under the hatred burning in his cold blue orbs.
By the way I could sense the hatred coming from Erik's emotions, he was an enemy. A big one.
"So that's why you're recruiting people? Like me?" I asked.
"We're planning to stop Shaw before he could escalate this conflict any further. He has got his own army of mutants to help him," Charles replied. "We need ours," Charles finished.
I ran my hand down my face, closing my eyes and breathed out deeply. This was not how I planned my night going, these two men walk up to me, telling me how they are like me and need my help to prevent World War III. This was a lot for me to take in, in such a short period of time. I mentally made two lists, negative and positive. Positive points: Learn to hone my powers, meet other people like me and this was probably the only chance for me to fit in and have something. Negative points: This could be a trap and if it wasn't a trap my powers could probably kill someone else.
"Give this a chance," Charles' voice urged gently, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I opened my eyes and staring at the two men, Charles and Erik staring back at me. Charles looked at me patiently and Erik looked like as though he had just proven something to Charles.
I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and took a deep breath, "While this sounds very dire and adventurous, I can't," I answered shaking my head. "Why should I come? I have a perfectly good life right now, with a decent paying job. I don't want to be involved in any war,"
"What?" Erik started, raising an eyebrow. "You don't just charm your way out of everything?" Erik asked mockingly.
I looked at Erik pointedly and glared, "No, actually. Having everything handed to you, makes life quite boring," I retorted.
"We've already spoken to your boss about it," Charles chimed in. "He's willing to grant you an indefinite period of leave from work. Or at least until the whole thing is over," he explained.
"He agreed?" I balked, thinking back to the measly, overweight doctor who had many a times refused to grant me my annual break, unless I used my powers on him.
Charles smiled, "The words 'government' and 'CIA' can be very convincing in situations such as these,"
"He must think me to be some criminal or spy now," I muttered more to myself, before scowling up at the two when I realized what they had done. "You guys move fast. What if I didn't want to join your little team?"
"You'll get your job back," Charles shrugged his shoulders. "Your boss wouldn't even remember meeting anyone by the names of Charles Xavier or Erik Lehnsherr," He tapped his fingers against his temple with a proud smile.
"How convenient, but even if I agree to join you, my life will never be the same. I will be ostracized even more than I already am," I reasoned.
"You don't think the public will accept you?" Charles questioned.
"Charles, please tell me that you’re not this naive?" I asked back. "I don't know how you folks do it across the sea. But Charles, look at me, I am a black woman in America, I'm barely accepted now and I live in the northern part of America. Why would they accept me? Black people are being murdered for the color of their skin since this country was founded. People in the past have been killed for being different. Just look what happened with the Jews and Hitler," I pointed out.
I could feel Erik's mind radiating with anger. I frowned and when I looked up and saw Erik's face. He looked like he stuck in between an inner battle with himself.
"I think humans will accept us sooner or later," Charles stated optimistically.
"Perhaps, that remains to be seen. They don't even accept humans with a different skin color," I countered. Momentarily, a silence fell over us before I spoke up and broke it. "Just to be clear, this isn't some sort of a trap? You two aren't trying to experiment on me?" I asked in a serious tone. "And the CIA and African-Americans do not have the best history, so promise me that they won't try to assassinate me and label me as some black radical," I added.
Charles looked slightly amused, but shook his head, "No, we won't hurt you and the CIA won't hurt you, I promise," Charles reassured, and I nodded then stood up.
I was probably going to regret this.
"I'll...help you guys," I began.
"Thank you, Claudia," Charles interjected gently.
"But, let's be clear that doesn't mean I trust you. We've only just met," I explained, glancing at the two of them.
"Completely understandable, Claudia," Charles replied, nodding his head.
"One more condition, if you want my help," I stated, and Erik scoffed and I glared at him.
"This should be interesting," Erik drawled.
I looked back at Charles, "You have to promise me, if I occasionally let my mental shield down, you will not look inside my mind," I demanded.
Charles looked quite stunned, "Of course. But can I ask, how can you block me out? You're not a telepath,"
My gaze hardened again, "I once knew someone who was,"
Chapter Two: Division X
#x-men fanfiction#black fanfiction#x-men fanfic#charles xavier fanfiction#charles xavier x oc#black!oc#magneto x oc#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr fanfiction#erik lehnsherr x oc#erik lehnsherr x reader#charles xavier x reader#black!reader#x men fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic
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Memories 12 - The Drows Part 3
O damn this one is shorter than I wanted but I ammm lackluster... meh..
A cruel smile curled up bitterly upon the silhouette before her. For a moment, the figure’s angular pointed ears moved up slightly in surprise before falling back into a slope as she propped herself against the wall.
“You recognize me?”
More surprised you recognized me, Essätha seethed to herself, ignoring the almost sultry purr in the woman’s voice.
The dark elf stepped closer. The length of her hair was much the same as the nobleman Drow. It cascaded down near her rear; tightened with a leather wrap that stood out against the snowy white of her voluminous locks. But it was the only similarity. Her skin appeared more like ashy coals than neutral slate and was freckled with dark spots; and her eyes were pale lilac that nearly blended into the whites of her eyes.
“Why did you kill that man?”
The Drow lady cackled; a raspy and almost witch-like quality. As she did she stepped, where the moonlight could better show her menacing features. By the gods, she looked less diminutive up close despite the fact Essie was certain she was taller. The stranger’s body was lean, but her sleeve-less arms revealed the structure of someone more akin to body slamming someone into the dirt than the softness most caster’s body had.
“I didn’t kill that olath har nesst,” she sneered. “I was the messenger. Now, where is the family symbol? You brushed past me in the marketplace; I know you have it. Hand it over, and I’ll make your discipline a little less excruciating.”
“I don’t have it,” Essie retorted.
The stranger’s mouth opened and closed. With a sudden grimace, she reached out to grab a fistful of Essätha’s dark hair. A pained yelp followed as her head was throttled side to side, tearing apart the bun upon her head as tears burned in her eyes. Strands of black coils and twists yanked free of her scalp as fingernails embedded themselves into her skin.
“What do you mean you don’t have it?!”
“The man took it back!”
The fingers wrapped up in the knots of her hair were gone almost instantaneously. The Yuan-ti shuddered, trying to catch her shallow breath from the aching shrieking of her voice. She gave a reflexively twist of her arms, finding the cold metal biting into her throbbing wrists now darkened with bruises.
“You have made the biggest mistake of your life, Pureblood xa'huuli,” the she-devil condemned in a threatening whisper; glimpsing aside. “The Keepers are going to be furious. Getting another Teken’rae family crest will be near impossible now, with them on guard…”
The lump upon Essätha’s head was pulsating again like a hammer nailing in the coffin lid. It was disorienting. She could hardly concentrate about the furious growls of the woman, although she had heard her refer to her vaguely by her race. It was not promising or comforting, as either a reminder of the simple knowledge someone knew what she was made her stomach roll and knot.
An almost reassuring hand was placed atop her head. She flinched, nervous and aching as her glowering eyes glared upward. The Drow’s face was now expressionless and unfeeling.
The palm dragged off her head, musing gnarled sections of ebony before her face. Pouting out her lip, Essätha huffed into to blow aside as much of the tangles as she could. It did little good to throw a shady look after the stranger anyway; she stepped around the separation wall with a creak of floorboards into the next room. Her voice was weirdly detached as she spoke quietly to what sounded faintly like a grunting, inaudible masculine voice.
Her nose wrinkled. Scowling angrily, Essie stuck out her tongue with a sniffle at the wall. She was going to have a headache for a while, and her face had a dampness from her rush of tears as the skin was pulled tight by rough hands. It was more her dignity and pride that felt wounded though. Caught off guard; now held hostage in some dingy place with bindings on her wrists.
And as she surveyed the empty space, she could make out the set of windows directly behind her and the single dusty coffee table and crumbling old sofa. There was a hallway jutting out to the left, and it was difficult to make out what was behind the poorly designed wall that came out to separate this room from the other. From personal experience, she would guess it to be the dining room and kitchen as she squinted towards the dull yellow lighting spilling out against onto the floor and far wall to her right. The set-up of the house made it seem so, anyway.
She breathed out slowly, relaxing the tension in her shoulders. Changing was second-nature to Yuan-ti Purebloods. It was painless; fast, and easy.
It did not, however, come quite as easily to those whose mind and body resisted the change.
Essätha knew in many ways, there was nothing wrong with her serpentine form. But years of repulsion from those who knew her for what she was and could be made the appearance of something that should be as loved as the rest of her; natural to who she was, put up a wall. She hated to change. She knew this body far better: two legs, thin, deceptively pretty. It was a form she knew how to work. It was a look that people did not judge, but admired. Sometimes distantly; for scales were not the most enticing part of her appearance, but she knew she looked nice enough to be able to press someone beneath her thumb while they were distracted by her charm and beauty.
The snake she could appear to be; the real snake and not the cunning thievery type, was not something people would describe the same way. She could enjoy the pattern of her scales with a silent voice that no one would understand. In the end it was still just a girl who turned into a monster. A form folks feared both in her people and the innocent garden wanderers who slithered through the grass.
Her wrists twisted against chaffing rough metal, and scales began to crawl up her skin like a ravenous virus. She withheld whimpers of pain and sharply yanked, feeling the rise in her scales catch on the irons and threaten to break off the more she struggled.
There wasn’t enough space and slack given to her limbs. Even as her arms and hands were engulfed with the change, her appendages were still much the same in size. Breath hitching, Essie allowed the tension in her body to relax before her form fully phased into the serpent. Scales retracted, and the shape of her face began to smooth out and reform back into a more humanoid shape.
“I’ll take care of the problem you put us in!”
Essie flinched at the booming thunder of a man’s raw voice howling from the other room. It came suddenly; a gust of a hurricane’s wind compared to their previous whispered uttering. She flung herself onto her side, wrestling uselessly against the restraints as panic settled in. She had to get out. She had to get out of these damn things!
Boots thudded against the floorboards. Ominous. Creaking against loose panels and echoing in the vibrations of the walls, into the ground. It rippled beneath like a threatening promise.
“Not in my house you won’t,” the woman hoarsely snarled in retort.
“Ya damn house is a pig slob’s feed anyway, a little blood’ll liven it right up.”
No no no no. Flipping the other way, Essätha whacked the swollen knot on her head into the floor. Tears brimmed the corners of her eyes almost immediately. She let out a choked whine, riding the cuffs down her hands. They remained trapped part of the way. Chaffing against skin; holding her thumb in a painful position that only throbbed more and more with each jerk and turn of her arms.
“Take the mess outside, or I’ll-”
A clap of a palm against flesh followed, with a sharp intake.
“Keep ya mouth shut,” the man growled. “Ya might be a gifted shifter in the Keeper’s eyes, but ya nature witchery don’t impress me. We’ll see how beloved folks see ya with this fuck up of yours.”
She froze. Wrists and hands swollen and red; frame aching as the thump of boots stalled behind her. Too close for comfort.
Craning her head back, Essätha looked up at the rounded man with a heavy jawline and bleached ivory hair looming above her. His belly looked of someone who frequently enjoyed their fair share of hearty meals and dined on wines and ales, but their arms were thick bands of muscle.
A shadow loomed from the other room. Yellow light from a candle only just drew out some of their appearance as yellow cat-like reflections bounced off their retinas.
“Outside,” the strange woman repeated coldly. “I must speak to the Keeper’s alone, and don’t need her screaming interfering.”
The Drow man curled his lip, but said nothing. Instead his hand reached down; marked with faded scars from fights long since come and gone. There was no telling if they were a sign of victory or of loss. Shuddering regardless at the indication of torment to come, Essätha shrank back like a frightened viper. When the hand was close enough she lunged for him; teeth only just grazing the back of his hand.
Cursing, the Drow was quick to drag his hand away. He shook it wildly, looking upon the welted line of sharp fangs that had dragged against him. They were nearly white against his dark gray skintone.
An amused snickering escaped the lady as she stepped out of sight, her voice still carrying: “Watch it, Jayfier, Yuan-Ti’s sometimes have a bit of bite to them.”
The fellow; Jayfier, grunted in answer. His luminous pale yellow eyes moved down once more. Skimming over Essie like a dog thinking of the best place to strike his captured prey. The jugular too quick for mercy.
“Good aye, I like ‘em with a last bit of fight in ‘em. Makes the squealing there at the end more memorable.”
And with that, the Drow reached down to ensnare an ankle in a vice’s bear trap. Essätha spat with fury; cried out like a banshee and threw herself around as her free leg kicked and scrapped against the man’s shin. After a few attempts, he managed to grab upon that ankle as well, cursing in a foul harsh tongue.
Tossing and turning, she pulled and pushed her legs as she was dragged through the house. Glimpses of grim-covered furniture, dusty windows, and stacks of books. The only thing remotely alive being a few plants sitting in their pots. A far-away odor of dirt, rot, sage, and some very heavy perfuming musk masking some of the other scents.
The wood front door squealed open on its hinges. Her head thudded against each of the stairs down the porch, wailing the whole way as her fingers clawed at anything she could reach.
The Drow woman peered out from the door, snorted, and proceeded to close it firmly behind them as the man hauled her around back, shrieking all the while.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Bruised and battered, Essätha collapsed to the ground, heaving for air as the man released her legs. There was leaflitter stuck to her nose, and dirt caked on her back in the torn remains of her twisted garments. She could taste grass on her lips, and smelled the wooded area all around her against the rapid beating o her heart.
Jayfier paced in front of her. Loosening up; cracking his knuckles and flexing his arms back and forth. He took steps in large strides; bouncing up and down and rolling his head from side to side.
“Ya had better options gettin’ caught by a townsmen guard,” he grunted. “Woulda made this a lot quicker for a petty thief like yourself. Bet you didn’t think it’d catch up with you, huh?”
She shot the man a vile glare. Her hands, all the while, rubbed uselessly into the inside of the cuffs that were buried into her skin. Dark, purple bruising ringed her wrists and up her hands. Her head felt disconnected from her body; the pain that had been splintering from the lump was now all over and rocketing down her spine.
“Did ‘ou?”
The Drow man paused, a hand anchored to his elbow as he stretched. The raspy sound of her voice had him twisting from the hip to look back at her.
“Did I what?”
“Did ‘ou know when it caught up w’th ‘ou?” Essie slurred, spitting dust from her upper lip off.
Confusion began to morph over the man’s features. He seemed to ponder the question for a brief few moments, before finally admitting defeat of its purpose with an agitated huff. Shrugging his frame, he pivoted slowly around back towards her.
“Tell me doll, do you care more about ya fingers, or ya tongue? I’m thinking we save the eyes for a bit later,” he purred, stepping closer. “I like to watch the fear glaze over for a while. Smell the terror of sweat on ya skin after, not knowing what’s coming begging for it to end…”
As Jayfier stepped closer, brandishing a dagger from his belt. Essätha dragged her heel into the dirt. Drawing her legs in like a cowardly, trembling figure beneath the mad light of the man’s eyes filled with delight. And, like a coiled spring, as he moved in closer, she snapped open with a hellion screech. Her feet snapped out once the Drow man was close enough, and her leg launched forward until she connected with the man’s lower extremities.
He buckled to his knees, wheezing out swear words.
She lunged into a sitting position as fast as her wriggling would allow, between him and the blade before he could reach for it. Jayfier lunged for her; fingers shaping into claws. He quickly fell back; rebutted as Essie rammed her head into his chin. His teeth didn’t click together audibly, but connected around his tongue as he muffled a sound of agony.
Two hands grabbed at her as she rolled triumphantly over the man’s sprawled frame. He tore at her clothes; pulled strands of hair from her scalp as they struggled. A bruising fist jabbed her torso and she gagged; ramming a knee into his abdomen.
“Feisty bitch-” Jayfier coughed, slapping her so hard her vision kaleidoscoped.
Squirming helplessly to better her angle, Essätha snarled and clamped down onto the man’s palm as he went to strike her again. Her sharp denta held as he pulled away, tearing a thin layer of flesh with it and beading blood up in a few places upon his hand. Hair was flung everywhere; black and white cascading.
He roared with fury. A knee rammed relentlessly into her ribs as they thrashed around. Her breath came out ragged; insides feeling like they were rattling. With a hand grabbing for her face, Essie rammed her weight into his shoulder. There was a distinctive and dull pop, and he suddenly wailed with agony as his fingernails which had embedded themselves into the scales of her cheek suddenly fell slump.
She flung herself forward as the Drow grappled with her with his good arm. Her elbow dug into his windpipe; making him gasp for air as a hand encircled her throat.
Flickers of recollections. A coldness dragging her down.
Terror ignited itself like lost memories in her bones. She clung to air desperately; her eyes wide as her supply grew shorter and shorter beneath the talons hooked around her neck. He squeezed with equal distress to her own as blackness began to fringe upon the edges of sight.
I’ll finally be free of you.
A sob; broken in her wheezing gasp, dragged out of her lungs. She didn’t know what would happen when she lost consciousness. She didn’t know what she’d find. Wakedness or death; nothing or everything. Further torture here or there. Being helpless to either. The sharp taste of dread in the back of her throat as fingers imprinted on her skin in stains of discoloration.
Then the fingers relaxed, and oxygen ran into her so fast a spell of dizziness consumed her. She drank in the air even as it burned; tears warm on her face and falling on the unconscious man’s nose and forehead.
Barely bypassing the alarm and fright that wanted to curl up into a fettle ball and weep, Essie slid off the Drow and planted her ass on the ground. She inhaled through her mouth in gulps, shaking as she looked over the man’s slack expression and open mouth. The spray of his ivory locks was everywhere; and the clip he’d been using to pin back what his tie could not lay on the ground.
A pin.
Flopping on to her back, Essätha scrapped her fingers into the soil until her fingers came upon the metal piece. She twiddled it around in her digits, sliding the edge along her shackles with shaky jabs. It took some desperate poking around, and muted sighs and whimpers, but the shard finally slipped into a keyhole.
Twirling it around, she jabbed relentlessly at the various wards in hopes of finding the locking mechanism. After a few pathetic attempts; and dropping the pin once, she finally managed to prod around until her left cuffling clicked open.
She tore her arm free of the shackle with faint, croaking laughter. Bringing her arms around, it was much easier to work the second restraint as it faced her. The pin was useless by the time she’d finished; jammed and crooked inside the cuff until it broke off.
Moving her eyes around, she spotted the glinting blade upon a clump of grass.
Before doubt could even surface; Essätha jumped on the survival instinct. She reached for the weapon; shaking as she turned towards the man-
The dagger hung limply in her grip.
Releasing a short cry of agony, she laid it on the ground. Her hands shook as she pawed at Jayfier; searching his pockets and beneath his shirt. It wasn’t until she shoved him over to dig in his back-pockets did she discover a thick, small, leather-bound tome. It was filled with notes and scripts written in a language that made no sense to her. The cover had upon it a triangle with a circle splicing through it, an eye, and various symbol markers weaving into a pattern design etched within the circle and triangle.
Standing was difficult, and exhausting. Her head swam; her body screamed for rest. To lay down in the soft grass, and let the headache subside. Let the pain leave her body.
But she could not rest.
She needed to get away from here. Far, far away from here.
Gripping the booklet tightly, Essätha fumbled through the dark, taking the obvious trail where her body had parted the grasses and brush. She stopped for nothing; stumbling through the woods, skirting the decrepit house as she hurried away. Anywhere her feet would lead her. Constantly moving through darkness, along barren and overgrown roadways now abandoned and through thick vegetation.
She hurt beyond reason. Beyond words. Lost in an illusion that one more step, and she would be able to lay her head down and sleep.
Then the sun began to peek over the horizon.
Essie fumbled through the treelines, moaning pitifully through the slits of her eyes. Staring vacantly; unsure where she was.
A distant sound of voices came to her. She followed it; hunger on her belly and thirst clenching her throat, until she saw the familiar shape of shadowy buildings in the early morning sunlight.
Nothing could possibly be more relieving. And as the rays of sunlight bounced off the rooftops, she wept.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grimacing, the Drow woman watched as the Yuan-Ti laid the weapon down. For a second, as she jerked up, she’d thought that she’d been heard. But after a few seconds, she came to the conclusion the jerkiness was more of a fumbling exhaustion. Riddled with pain, she swayed as she moved around the area.
Finally, after a long and boring wait, she departed through the wood.
Parting the lush branches that had held her quiet and secret in the dark, she advanced upon Jayfier’s unconscious body.
Her teeth bared like a wild animal.
Taking hold of the hilt of the dagger, she finished what the Yuan-ti would not, and plunged into the man’s neck. Burying it deep so the very tip severed the spine, and worked out the other end.
Her eyes flashed; predatory as she looked in the direction the snake-woman had retreated to. Thinking she was safe, no doubt. Praying she would find salvation.
Standing up, the woman melted back into the shadows; her form collapsing into the shape of a wolf as she disappeared once more into the brush.
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