Louis pressed a cool cloth to the hollow of her neck, looking up at Violet at the same instant to make sure that she was still sleeping.
The woman caught her breath at his touch. He licked his lips and dipped the cloth in the warm water again, wringing it out and then dabbing it around the edges of a deep scratch on her face.
Her eyes flickered open, and he saw yellow now mottled her once clear green irises.I think it should be ’he saw yellow now mottling her once clear green irises’, or ’he saw yellow mottle her once clear green irises’. The tense you have just sounds weird. Her pupils were dilated.
They fell upon him, but only for a moment she stared unblinkingly.
He pressed his lips together, feeling exposed under her gaze. He was relieved when she closed her eyes again.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered,'That you have to go through this. I wouldn't wish it on anybody.'
He picked up her hand and turned it over, palm down, so that he could see if there was any way to identify her. The top of her hand had been burned and was heavily scarred. Greenish black swirled the garbled skin, the only remnants left of her tattoos.
This, he only saw in slaves. He remembered "removing" the identity tattoos of a dozen people using a hot piece of iron.
If she had been a slave, there would be some way of knowing. He brushed aside a few tresses of her dark hair, and saw her ear. There was a nail in her lobe, bent around in a loop so that it could not be removed. She was a slave.
Underworlders prized human slaves, whoever owned her would be looking for her, if they had already come after her. He remembered the wolves that had attacked her.
He jumped a little when Violet stirred on her pallet by the fire. His gaze lingered on her protectively for a brief moment before he returned his attention to the woman.
Her eyes fluttered open again, falling upon him.
'You...' she breathed, 'I know you.'
Louis swallowed, unsure of what to say. She shuddered, her glazed eyes closing again.
He picked up a bowl of water and held the rim to her lips as he carefully raised her head, 'A lot of people know me...'
She drank only a swallow, and then he allowed her to lay back down.
'Can I ask your name?' he whispered.
'Vixen,' she said softly, shuddering.
'You're safe with me, Vixen,' he told her,'Get some rest.'
'Your name is Louis?' she asked.
He nodded,'Yes...'
She nodded, 'I know you...'
He was quiet.
'I was there...' she said.
He felt his blood run cold, 'Where...?'
'When He betrayed you,' she replied, her face twisting with pain again.
This section of dialogue is actually really engaging. And that last sentence there really makes my eyes and ears open up.
He blinked, licking his lips, not wanting to remember the memories that flooded his mind.
'I'd rather not talk about that,' he said softly, feeling fresh pain radiating from an old wound reopened.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered.
'It's not your fault,' he whispered, standing up.
He felt suddenly vulnerable. She knew the truth of what had happened, not the lie he had spread to protect his enemies. She knew.
He looked at her, and saw that she was unconscious again. Relieved, he laid down next to Violet, and closed his eyes seeking sleep and peace. But all that he found were unrest and memories, haunting memories...
... Howls. Incessant howls. That was all he could hear when he first awoke. His hands and feet had been bound, his head throbbed painfully. He could feel warmth spreading down his side. Blood from a wound.
Louis tried to move, he tried to cry out but something kept him from doing so. He could not even voice his pain or fear in a low groan.
The howling lessened, and he was aware of voices. Ira's voice was among them. To me, his reaction is missing something. Try doing something like ‘The howling lessened, and he was aware of voices; with a start he recognized Ira’s amongst them, and clenched his fists instinctively.
Suddenly, he knew what was happening. His heart began to beat rapidly.
'... This way we both get what we want,' Ira was saying, 'You get revenge, and my assurance that from now on your pack is under Eradicator protection. And I get power.'
A voice snorted in response, 'How do I know you won't stab me in the back? After all, you'd do it to your own brother.'
'Stay out of my way and you won't have any reason to worry,' Ira replied.
He (who? You mean Louis?) could seen see the dark forms of the wolves and the lone figure of his brother (Louis has a brother?) in the lightless building. Two slaves were standing by the entrance.
A hand snatched Louis off the ground and hauled him to his feet. His knees buckled beneath him twice before he could finally stand, and even then he had to lean against his brother.
He saw a dozen pairs of yellow eyes glowing in the dark, fixed hungrily on him. The howls became vicious snarls.
'Sorry it had to be this way, Louie,' Ira whispered, 'But it's about time you stepped aside.'
Louis was helpless against the shove that Ira gave him into the wolves. His face and its shadowed features were the last thing he remembered seeing before the wolves ascended...
Louis awoke gasping for breath, his skin and clothes soaked in a cold sweat. His heart beat thunderously in his chest as he struggled to regain his breath. He sagged against the wall of the trailer, running a trembling hand over his face.
Suddenly he was aware that the fire had gone out, and that Violet was crying a helpless, warbling cry of hunger and pain. He picked her up and wrapped her in a blanket as he did so this sentence sounds off. Her skin was ice cold.
While holding her close he added a piece of wood to the fire, thankful that it took to the flame without much difficulty.
He looked over at where Vixen had been laying. His heart skipped a beat and a half when he saw she was gone. He stood to his feet, and put Violet back on her pallet, whispering, 'Shhh...'
He straightened his back, and felt hot breath on his neck and froze.
Licking his lips, he slowly looked over his shoulder, and found a pair of vibrant yellow eyes staring back at him. And then it was flashing white fangs.
He caught her as they went down and tumbled out of the trailer and into the brightness of daylight.
They hit the ice with a dull thud, snarls ripping from her throat as she snapped at his jugular. He caught her muzzle in one hand as he phased, roaring at her as he rolled over on her.
She clawed at his chest, breaking free of his hold. She opened her jaws wide, gnashing her fangs again as she lurched upward for his throat.
She was so small and fox-like compared to him, it was easy to subdue her. But how she fought, yowling and snarling, clawing and tearing at him. She was full of wildfire and stubborn spirit.
But it had to stop.
He roared above her, showing his fangs and flattening his ears. She quieted, and stilled at the sound of his voice. The flame in her eyes died down to a gentle smolder. She beheld him with a gaze that made him feel powerful and invincible. Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. What was happening?
He looked her over, feeling a strong attraction toward her. Her fur was deep sable, her right fore arm socked with white, the other black. Her features were still feminine, sharp and exquisite, even with the scar that marred them. He was suddenly aware of her lean, slender frame pressed against his, of her paw curled lightly about his wrist. He swallowed.
Louis was distracted by a cry from inside the trailer. Violet.
He scrambled away from Vixen, phasing back into his human form. She did the same, though more slowly than he. He gulped, noticing the rips and tears and stretch of the fabric of her clothing and the great amount of exposed skin and flesh. Her dark hair fell over her bewitching yellow eyes in the most hypnotic way. It took everything within him to ignore the feelings rising up within him now, and go to the call of the one who needed him the most.
Louis did not look up when Vixen sat down beside him later that night.
'Were you scared?' she asked.
He pressed his lips together and nodded, 'Terrified...'
He flinched a little when she brushed her fingertips along his cheek.
'What happened?' she asked.
He looked at her and then at his hands, and then at Violet in his lap.
'After Ira threw me to the Wolves I can't remember much...' he replied, 'I remember him... Watching them tear me apart very clearly though... There wasn't ever a moment when he looked...' He shook his head unable to go on.
For the first time in a long time, he felt tears sting his eyes.
'...And then after the wolves drew back I remember seeing him shake his head at me,' he said softly, 'And watching him walk away... After that I remember pain... So much pain... Wanting to die. Screaming for nobody to hear... And then waking up... Alone.'
She swallowed, 'That must have been such a nightmare.'
He said nothing.
'I wish now that there was something I could have done,' she said softly, 'But then, I thought you were getting what you deserved...'
'I have always thought the same thing,' he said softly, 'I wouldn't have expected anything.'
'Why did you help me?' she asked.
'You didn't deserve it,' he replied, looking at her.
She swallowed and rested her head on his shoulder.
'I'm glad you thought so,' she whispered.
He thought that a little odd, but said nothing in reply. It was nice, the quiet, now that he had her as company.
His face and its shadowed features were the last thing he remembered seeing before the wolves ascended...This line makes it clear that he blacks out, but then later he recalls more and more of the scene to Vixen when he should’ve been out cold. That part didn’t add up.
I'll start editing as soon as possible I pinky promise! The iPhone makes it all complicated :/Louis pressed a cool cloth to the hollow of her neck, looking up at Violet at the same instant to make sure that she was still sleeping.
The woman caught her breath at his touch. He licked his lips and dipped the cloth in the warm water again, wringing it out and then dabbing it around the edges of a deep scratch on her face.
Her eyes flickered open, and he saw yellow now mottled her once clear green irises. Her pupils were dilated.
They fell upon him, but only for a moment she stared unblinkingly.
He pressed his lips together, feeling exposed under her gaze. He was relieved when she closed her eyes again.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered,'That you have to go through this. I wouldn't wish it on anybody.'
He picked up her hand and turned it over, palm down, so that he could see if there was any way to identify her. The top of her hand had been burned and was heavily scarred. Greenish black swirled the garbled skin, the only remnants left of her tattoos.
This, he only saw in slaves. He remembered "removing" the identity tattoos of a dozen people using a hot piece of iron.
If she had been a slave, there would be some way of knowing. He brushed aside a few tresses of her dark hair, and saw her ear. There was a nail in her lobe, bent around in a loop so that it could not be removed. She was a slave.
Underworlders prized human slaves, whoever owned her would be looking for her, if they had already come after her. He remembered the wolves that had attacked her.
He jumped a little when Violet stirred on her pallet by the fire. His gaze lingered on her protectively for a brief moment before he returned his attention to the woman.
Her eyes fluttered open again, falling upon him.
'You...' she breathed, 'I know you.'
Louis swallowed, unsure of what to say. She shuddered, her glazed eyes closing again.
He picked up a bowl of water and held the rim to her lips as he carefully raised her head, 'A lot of people know me...'
She drank only a swallow, and then he allowed her to lay back down.
'Can I ask your name?' he whispered.
'Vixen,' she said softly, shuddering.
'You're safe with me, Vixen,' he told her,'Get some rest.'
'Your name is Louis?' she asked.
He nodded,'Yes...'
She nodded, 'I know you...'
He was quiet.
'I was there...' she said.
He felt his blood run cold, 'Where...?'
'When He betrayed you,' she replied, her face twisting with pain again, 'Ira... Your brother.'
He blinked, licking his lips, not wanting to remember the memories that flooded his mind.
'I'd rather not talk about that,' he said softly, feeling fresh pain radiating from an old wound reopened.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered.
'It's not your fault,' he whispered, standing up, 'Besides... It was a long time ago.'
He felt suddenly vulnerable. She knew the truth of what had happened, not the lie he had spread to protect his enemies. She knew.
He looked at her, and saw that she was unconscious again. Relieved, he laid down next to Violet, and closed his eyes seeking sleep and peace. But all that he found were unrest and memories, haunting memories...
... His hands and feet had been bound, his head throbbed painfully. He could feel warmth spreading down his side. Blood from a wound.
Louis tried to move, he tried to cry out but something kept him from doing so. He could not even voice his pain or fear in a low groan.
The howling lessened, and he was aware of voices. When he heard Ira's voice was among them his blood ran cold and his heart skipped. I like
Suddenly, he knew what was happening. His heart began to beat rapidly. But after awhile all was replaced by a hot, boiling anger and hatred.
'... This way we both get what we want,' Ira was saying, 'You get revenge, and my assurance that from now on your pack is under Eradicator protection. And I get power.'
A voice snorted in response, 'How do I know you won't stab me in the back? After all, you'd do it to your own brother.'
'Stay out of my way and you won't have any reason to worry,' Ira replied.
He could seen the dark forms of the wolves and the lone figure of his brother in the lightless building. Two slaves were standing by the entrance.
A hand snatched Louis off the ground and hauled him to his feet. His knees buckled beneath him twice before he could finally stand, and even then he had to lean against his brother.
He saw a dozen pairs of yellow eyes glowing in the dark, fixed hungrily on him. The howls became vicious snarls.
'Sorry it had to be this way, Louie,' Ira whispered, 'But it's about time you stepped aside.'
Louis was helpless against the shove that Ira gave him into the wolves. His face and its shadowed features were the last thing he remembered seeing before the wolves ascended...
Louis awoke gasping for breath, his skin and clothes soaked in a cold sweat. His heart beat thunderously in his chest as he struggled to regain his breath. He sagged against the wall of the trailer, running a trembling hand over his face.
Suddenly he was aware that the fire had gone out, and that Violet was crying a helpless, warbling cry of hunger and pain. He picked her up and wrapped her in a blanket as he did so. Her skin was ice cold.
While holding her close he added a piece of wood to the fire, thankful that it took to the flame without much difficulty.
He looked over at where Vixen had been laying. His heart skipped a beat and a half when he saw she was gone. He stood to his feet, and put Violet back on her pallet, whispering, 'Shhh...'
He straightened his back, and turned around when he heard scuffling behind him.
Licking his lips, he slowly looked over his shoulder.
Vixen was crouched over Violet, her yellow eyes dilated, and gleaming with blood thirst and wild-fire. They were fixed hungrily on Violet.
Louis went rigid, every fiber of his being screaming to snatch Violet out of her reach.
'Don't do it,' he heard himself snarl at Vixen. He sounded horrifying, even in his own ears, 'Don't you touch her!'
Vixen looked up at him, her eyes challenging, though she took a step back. She was trembling.
He moved in front of Violet, his gaze never leaving Vixen.
Her lips quivered as they drew away from her teeth in a snarl, and a tear fell from her eye.
She let out a blood curdling scream and lunged around him in desperation for Violet.
Louis caught her by the hair and threw her into the wall. She clawed at his arms and face, screaming and yowling. He held her by her throat with one hand and caught both her hands with the other.
'Stop it!' he shouted over her and Violet both,'Stop!'
She growled a last time at him before she finally stilled. She panting, shaking all over You‘re missing a little something in this sentence, I think. The feral rage in her eyes remained, as did the taut line that her mouth had drawn into.
His gaze was relentless, like an all-consuming flame had been ignited within his eyes. His mouth had a firm set to it, his brow was furrowed and a muscle in his jaw knotted.
It was silent, save Violet's cries. Louis never glanced her way though every part of him longed to.
Her features suddenly wavered and softened. A half-sob, half-cry choked out of her throat and she went limp in his grasp. He allowed her to crumple to the floor and stepped back, picking up Violet as he did so. I like his reaction here for some reason, that he will let her fall to the ground, and instead go to comfort Violet.
'What's happening to me?' Vixen sobbed, covering her head with her arms. She screamed again, rolling sporadically onto her back, arching as she screamed again.
Louis watched her, with eyes now that reflected his sympathy for her. But he turned away from her, and went to sit by the fire with Violet, checking over her for bites out of paranoia.
Louis did not look up when Vixen sat down beside him later that night.
'Were you scared?' she asked.
He pressed his lips together and nodded, 'Terrified...'
He flinched a little when she brushed her fingertips along his cheek.
'What happened?' she asked.
He looked at her and then at his hands, and then at Violet in his lap.
'After Ira threw me to the Wolves I can't remember much...' he replied, 'I remember him...' He shook his head unable to go on.
For the first time in a long time, he felt tears sting his eyes.
'... I don't remember much else...' he said softly, 'After that I remember pain... So much pain... Wanting to die. Screaming for nobody to hear... And then waking up... Alone.'
She swallowed, 'That must have been such a nightmare.'
'I knew I had it coming though,' he whispered, 'After the raid against Detroit I noticed he was acting strange... None of my men looked at me the same... At the time I didn't understand but now I look back and I can see it.'
He pressed his lips together, 'Every part of me believes I deserved it.'
'Nobody deserves that,' she whispered, 'To be betrayed by their own brother over something as little as power...'
'I do,' he argued, 'After all the death and destruction and pain I've caused...' He shook his head, swallowing, 'The pleasure I found in it. I deserve everything that has happened to me. Except Violet.'
She looked at him, leaning back against the wall of the trailer,'You're different now. I can tell.'
He looked at her, his brow furrowed and his amber eyes lit with a strange, frightening mixture of self hatred, regret, pain, and anger.
'I'm a fucking monster,' he whispered, his lip snarling over his teeth.
She was quiet.
'Killing,' he whispered, 'That's all I can think about... It's all I want... To taste blood and flesh again.'
'Is that all we are?' she asked, 'Fucking monsters?'
He looked at her, seeing the pain and the fear in her eyes.
'If that's all I have to look forward to,' she whispered, 'Then I don't want to be...'
He looked away, 'I was a monster before I ever became one.'
She nodded.
'Can I ask you something?' he asked.
She looked at him expectantly.
'Why do they call you Vixen?' he asked.
'After my tribe was slaughtered by a gang called the Renegades,' she began, 'They took a few of us girls with them and gave us all pet names and tattooed them on our hands... Pierced our ears...' She pressed her lips together, her eyes filling up with tears at some horrid memory, 'Mine was "Vixen".'
'Why do you still go by the name?' he asked.
'It's a habit,' she replied, 'Once I didn't answer to it when he called me... He made sure I never forgot it...'
He swallowed, 'Can I ask your real name?'
'Eden,' she replied.
'I like that one better,' he said softly.
'So do I,' she whispered, leaning against him.
He looked down at the top of her head, tensing at her touch on his skin. After awhile she had degree back to sleep and he relaxed a little. Violet yawned and sagged against his chest, her eyes heavy with sleep. Louis stared into the fire, wide awake. LOVE this.
Eden. Violet. The longer they sat there together the more "right" it felt to him. It was as though he was waking from a nightmare to a sweet dream.
Dark (continued)
He gulped, unsatisfied with this end but aware that nothing could be changed. He did not even try to cower behind his arms as some sort of defenseless shield, facing his death head on like any other man of his reputation might have done.
But it never came.
A silent shadow passed overhead. The shadow did not vanish as it rushed into the light, but instead it enveloped it. Ira heard the shattering of glass and the rush of wings, and then the rumble, flesh tearing, and then a crash as the beast was knocked off its feet. Then silence and blackness once again took over the corridor, briefly. Maybe this is just me, but this was an awfully short description of the fight.
Fire lit the dark in a sudden burst. Ira rolled into the gutters just as the flames roared toward him, covering his head with his arms as the blazing heat rushed above him. When it had passed he looked up to find lanterns on the walls that were before hidden by darkness had all been lit, and the bodies of what few men had made it this far with him were burning as well. ooh I like the last line
Ira blinked, his eyes struggling to read[space]just to the low light. In the middle of the corridor the beast lay; Ira could hear it gasping for breath and the shallow gurgling in its throat as blood filled its lungs. It was larger than he had assumed, with bulging growths on its face, sprouting between each of its four eyes and a lower jaw with jagged yellow tusks protruding from its exaggerated under-bite. It still held the chain in one hand, which was attached to the collar around its thick throat.
Just a few feet away from it, no comma stood the hulking figure of a man, looking menacing in the firelight that illuminated the tunnel. Immediately, Ira wanted to get as far away from him as possible yet something held him there, like a firm grip over his entire body. He did not like the feeling that crawled all over his skin, though through his flesh down to the very core of his being. It all radiated from that calmly poised being don’t repeat ‘being’ when you used it to describe Ira in the previous sentence whose back was turned to him.
The only way to describe it was electricity, static. But not the type of static one felt if they touched a broken generator or that which clung to a blanket, but the kind that surrounded a bolt of lightning. Power at its most pure, most raw, [and] most violent. to me, I don’t really get how this works, so it felt just like he was being surrounded by a bolt of lightning? Personally, I imagine that to be more painful than binding.
He noticed a series of deep gashes and lacerations all over his body, his flesh exposed to the elements. How he was standing, Ira did not know, but (because) wounds like that would have put any normal man into his own grave.
Ira swallowed as he looked over at the creature lying on the floor and went pale, feeling the bile in his stomach churn and rise when he saw claws burst through its belly from the inside out, ripping the tough hide like it was little more than damp paper.
He could only sit there, watching in horror as another creature slithered out of the beast’s belly, with gangly forearms and stout little legs attached to a long, thin chest. Bones protruded from its loose gray skin, slick with gore left over from its mutilated host.
This new creature opened its four eyes one at a time, shaking its head back and forth as if disoriented by its surroundings.
The creature licked its teeth hungrily. It roared at the man standing before it, rearing up on its little hind legs, teetering about like a toddler who had only just learned to walk without the aid of a parent.
Ira watched, his muscles taut with the tension on the air.
It snarled, seeming to double in size simultaneously. A light flickered between each of its eyes, each one becoming steadily brighter with each breath that it drew. It gave one last roar as it lunged for the man without fear.
The man made no move to dodge or even defend himself from the attack as the creature sped toward him, but stood there motionlessly.
The creature launched itself into the air, reaching out its scrawny arms for the man’s throat. Ira blinked and suddenly the man was in the air in a mighty leap over the creature’s head, his hand on the nape of its neck. All time seemed to slow down, and to Ira’s shock, the creature’s gray skin was turning a charred black color that started at the man’s hand and spread all the way down its massive frame. It dropped to the ground and slid across the floor behind the man, who landed on his feet again without even a whisper of sound. I don’t know why, but I’m having a little trouble keeping up with what’s going on here. I’ve read through this several times. So from the troll thing’s dead body, a baby troll thing ripped its way out of the dead stomach. There’s a strange man standing in front of it with lightning powers that the baby tries to attack. Then I guess the man burns the baby to a crisp from the inside out.
I’m wondering where that raven thing is during all this.
Ira glanced over at the body in time to see it crumble and breakdown to ash in a matter of moments. He returned his attention to the man to find his flesh and skin repairing itself. That was when he noticed the peculiar markings that criss-crossed his dark olive skin.
They swirled around his arms and legs and chest, semicolon the only skin untouched were his hands, his face, and his feet. The tops of his hands were bare, something Ira had never seen before in his life time. Anyone who lived had their identity on their hands, even slaves whose hands were marred and mottled had once been somebody. But nobody had markings like him.
On his back the bold pattern wove itself into a design that looked like a raven with outstretched wings.
The markings glimmered in the dim light like faceted onyx stone. He noticed a faint blue pattern on his left breast just over his heart. It was different from the others in more ways than color. There was a gentle glow to it, appearing to pulsate with the strong rhythm of a beating heart. While the other lines were sharp and jagged and bold, this one in comparison was soft and clean and supple. The black lines were simple, and this one was intricate, fine as a spider’s web. The entire left side of his chest was untouched by the black, though Ira could see faint scars outlining his skin where once they had ruled that area as thickly as they did the rest of his body. It seemed that one marking had driven away the rest. the tats are definitely interesting
Aside from his skin, the man held even more an imposing appearance, from the sharp angles and jagged planes of his face, to the slight curve of his ears, even down to the way that he held himself in a statuesque pose. He was blindfolded, and there were heavy manacles with bits of broken chain around his wrists.Everything about him screamed “fierce”.I just wasn't a fan of how you blatantly stated this. The descriptions are clear enough and we can decide for ourselves how awesome he is without relying on you to tell us x)
‘What are you doing here?’ the man growled at him, his voice a deep, resonating baritone with only the slightest brush of an accent.
Ira, unable to shrug off the sense of impending doom, only stared at that blindfolded face.
'I asked you a question, Eradicator,’ the other growled impatiently.
'I fell...’ Ira replied, gulping. He did not realize until then, but he was shaking, as was his voice. Had this man really reduced him to such a level? He felt like a rabbit cornered by a lion.
The other said nothing more, but looked down the corridor in the direction from which the monster had come.
Ira looked as well. The raven came soaring silently into the light, and lit onto the man’s shoulder, draping its long tail feathers around his neck.
Even as he stared in a confused daze, Ira saw spots of black filling his vision. He tried to blink them away but they only grew larger. His chest was tight, he could hardly breathe at all anymore. He felt his grip on reality fading at the same moment that his head began to swim. He sagged to the floor, no longer strong enough to hold himself up. The dark overcame his vision and swallowed him whole. Was this it then? Was it over?
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