< atton revisited > The information page for Atton has been fully revised and updated with the new map!
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Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Post by Ichabod Afof on Jan 10, 2018 16:12:28 GMT -7
The monstrous minds of the fledglings before they grew out of their desperate hunger lead to an animalistic naivete, practiced with a hiss of fear at the illusion Ophelia created. There were two that were proving they were beyond that, however: The Sriae worshipper, and the once-city-guard. They were matured past scavenging, they were predators. Smart. Deadly. And they could smell the difference between Ophelia, and the air of empty images.
Ichabod was on his knees in the snow, his own blood now mixing with that of whatever victim had been devoured nearby. His forehead was pressed against the cold of it, and it was keeping him alert. He had heard Ophelia come to his rescue, and had even uttered a small, hoarse laugh at the happening. She was a fool, and he adored it. She was going to walk into certain death to give him a few unfettered moments before he met his own end, which certainly meant she would brave other insane dangers for his sake... So long as he could get them out of this mess.
"Ophelia," He called out, summoning all the energy he could muster to make it a loud, though strained sound. Mother was working on his wound, his organs turning to clay so that they could be patched without a stitch. He hoped she would leave a bloody mess, an open gouge, something to show to Ophelia later to prove the danger he had been in. If she didn't... Well, he could talk his way out of it. He usually did. For now, he needed to continue to play the part: "Ophelia, don't do anything stupid. Ophelia!"
"Opheeeeelia," The woman of Sriae teased, taking a sudden step towards the woefully unprepared girl. She could smell the fear on her, and she wanted a taste, "Opheeeeelia..."
"Run," Ichabod commanded, suddenly behind the female vampire. He had his bloodied knife to her throat, and his hand was tight in her hair, pulling her scalp back into his shoulder. She tugged desperately at his arm, the fear evident in her eyes, her body turning to animal instinct one last time--
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 11, 2018 13:22:31 GMT -7
It had worked! Her illusion had worked! ...On some of them, two seemed unfazed by the threat she had created, her army of silent walkers, and she knew that was a bad thing. If she could have moved, she would have run, but she couldn't move, so she didn't run, and so she just stared at Ichabod on the ground, bleeding, and the two vampires, who were saying her name because Ichabod had said it. Was this really going to be the end? She had a chance at love and it was going to die to... Whatever these things were?!
The girl monster-thing stepped towards Ophelia, who gasped at the step and shuddered with the movement. She had never seen anything so terrifying! But just as quickly as Ichabod had been hurt earlier, this monster was going to be hurt now, because Ichabod appeared behind her like lightning, grabbed her hair, and put a knife to her throat, and Ophelia gasped again. Ichabod told her to run, but the command was too late and her body was too frozen in place, so she just stood there... And the other vampire, the man, lunged and bit her neck.
Post by Ichabod Afof on Jan 14, 2018 17:02:44 GMT -7
The Sriae worshipper bled and crumpled at Ichabod's feet. The cut hadn't merely been a slit throat, Ichabod was never one for the small and sightly. His knife slicked through skin, muscle, cartilage, esophagus, trachea, and finally stopped itself, lodged into her spinal cord. It was a clear message to the other vampires, who all recoiled and flattened themselves on the ground, perfectly supplicant to the God they hoped would show them mercy.
All but one.
The idiot guard had made it clear the side he was on, and Ophelia had not run, and so the masculine monster was suckled on the girl's neck. That wouldn't do. Ichabod pulled his old knife free of the now-lifeless, nearly decapitated neck of the Sriae girl, brandished it at his slaves, and then pointed to where Ophelia was being mauled. It was a silent command, but one that was swiftly obeyed. The group of them pulled the guard off of Ophelia, whose neck and coat were now stained in blood. Who had likely never experienced anything quite like this. Who would not most certainly have her feelings for Ichabod tested.
The vampires swarmed the guard, pulling him to the ground and blocking him from view. Before Ophelia could see what was truly happening to the creature, Ichabod paced himself over and and grasped at her cheeks. He looked in her eyes first, managing a somewhat convincingly heartfelt-- "Ophelia... You saved me--" before turning her face (away from the carnage) to see the damage. She was not going to die. She was, however, in poor shape.
"You need a doctor. Now," Ichabod did not give her a chance to respond before stooping and setting one arm just above the crook of her knee, and the other partway down her back. He was strong, thanks to Mother, but he hoped she would give him a little burst of something to make this seem effortless to him. He needed to come across as Ophelia's hero.
Thankfully, Mother was watching. She saw the worth Ophelia had. She would be useful with her own seal. She would prove her worth in breaking Sriae's. And most importantly -- Miynie's tricky little thing. She gave Ichabod her own strength, encouraging him to lift Ophelia like she was a mere paper weight. He would wager that if she wasn't so distracted by pain, she might be impressed.
As he walked, he knew his children would not disobey again. They knew what could happen when they did. He was a generous God, feeding them on his own flesh. He was also a righteous God, and he could remove them at any moment. They could cut him, stab him, kill him... And still he would return to deal with them. He had just proven it. They thought him dead, but he was not so easily killed. He had them now. Hook, line, and sinker. They would complete their meal and return to the tunnels where they belonged. He hoped he had Ophelia convinced, too.
I WILL GUIDE YOU, Mother insisted.
"I know of one nearby, just hold on," He whispered through the cold air, and he carried her away from the desperate carnage of the night.
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 15, 2018 12:19:56 GMT -7
Ophelia was VERY familiar with emotional pain, and to her it always felt like it took over body, so it had become a physical thing that altered her everything, she was intensely saddened most of the time, depressed even, but the pain in her neck when the thing bit her was COMPLETELY different than the pain in her heart, and it shook her to life, activating a response that wasn't jsut to stand there and take it. She screamed, and locked her hands onto it's face, one over it's eyes and nose and the other on it's chin as she tried to pry the thing off of her, but it was like the thing was attached.
The next thing she knew, there was a pulling along with her own. It hurt almost as much as the bite first had, like a tearing of her skin and it made her cry out as it happened, but then the intensity of the pain decreased and she didn't feel so warm and she realized that the other monsters had grabbed the monster that attacked her!!! She tried to look and see what exactly was happening, but suddenly Ichabod was there and grabbing her face and he was out of focus and she realized that she was bleeding a lot.
He said something, maybe about a doctor, and she just clutched as his shirt with hands that looked TOO pale. Before she knew it he had picked her up like nothing, and was carrying her through the snow. As he did, she took one look out behind her and saw in a blurry mass the monsters on top of the one who attacked her. They were tearing like she had been teared, and she cried, and buried her face in Ichabod's shoulder. She was terrified, of him, and of everything else, but she didn't have the energy left to fight.
Post by Ichabod Afof on Jan 19, 2018 16:17:33 GMT -7
Mother was Ichabod's guide through the streets. She gave him the route that was fastest without dipping into the tunnels, to the best that she could conceive from her extraplanar vantage point. Walls would obstruct them on occasion, and though when alone she could move him through them, she had no such power over Ophelia. It was a reminder of why he was doing all of this. Mother seemed all powerful from within his body, as she used him like a tool of her power, but she was nothing outside of him. She could not do anything to Ophelia, to Solana, to Pelagia, to the vampires. Not without him. He would remember that thought, even as she hissed him to remember who she was.
Mother was Ichabod's strength as he traipsed through snow. He was not a weak man, but he was not a hulking power house, either. Pushing through snow that raised up his calves, carrying Ophelia, fighting the stretch and pull of the openness of his wound? It was too much for him without Her. She made him resolute stone, and he broke through snow like a bulldozer, lifted Ophelia like a mountain, and ignored the pain as if he were inanimate.
Mother was Ichabod's healer, as well. His wound was not fully healed yet, though the internal damage had been fixed. He was not bleeding to death, but he was still bleeding. Ichabod could not tell her to stop her actions, not without Ophelia hearing, and so he could not will her leave him a bloody gouge. He wanted the doctor, and Ophelia to see it's proof. He hoped that she would let it remain... And of course She would. She knew the plan better than he. He was just a tool.
THE FOURTH DOOR TO THE EASTERN FRONT OF THIS STREET, Mother commanded. Ichabod did as he was ordered.
He raised himself up the steps to the door, leaned upon it with one arm, and cradled Ophelia's head with his forearm to keep her from brushing against the wood. Then, he knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Three, four times.
Then he shouted, "She needs a doctor!"
"She needs a doctor, now!"
"A healer, anyone!"
Then he knocked a fifth time.
The woman who finally opened the door looked spooked, and exhausted. Dark circles were under her eyes, and harsh lines were carved around her mouth, across her forehead, and at the corners of those tired pupils. Her hair was dark, but light at the edges as she had greyed with age. "Are you the doctor?" Ichabod let his voice be breathy, tired, he was still performing.
The woman shook her head, but opened the door as she saw Ophelia. "The Sir is inside, come now, quickly," She lead them inside, the warm of the hearth finding Ichabod's skin and rolling right back off of it.
The woman walked him down a hall, and into a small room that might have once been a parlor, but was set instead like an examining room. A table in the centre of the room was covered with a beige linen, and Ichabod couldn't wait to see it bloodied. "Right there, on the table! Lay her down gentle, now."
Ichabod did as he was told, and then the woman pushed him aside to fuss over Ophelia, "Girl, girl-- Are you alright girl? Come on, wake 'em up--"
"Her name is Ophelia," Ichabod offered, his voice hoarse now. Or at least, he made it sound hoarse.
"Miss Ophelia--" The woman caressed Ophelia's forehead, "Come on now, tell Nurse Dove... What happened t'ya child?"
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 22, 2018 11:14:35 GMT -7
Ophelia did not know how long it took, but eventually the cold of everything was replaced by the warmth of a home, except for the cold of Ichabod, her first thought was to be more scared of him, but her second thought was to realize that he was bleeding and so he very well could be struggling to hold on just like she was... The fact that he was putting her first would normally have given her a thrill, but instead she just groaned as she was lain on a table, wetting it quickly with her bleeding neck.
Someone started talking at her, and only when she heard her name, first from Ichabod and then from a woman, did she focus on what was happening. That woman was asking her what had happened, and Ophelia was both not sure what the answer was NOR how to answer.
There were monsters, they had attacked, no but not before Ichabod had been talking to them, not before she had stepped out because they had attacked HIM. The monsters bit her, on the neck, oh god was she going to get a disease, or was she going to die? She did not want either to happen, she had not even been kissed in over a decade! Errance would not be so cruel, would she? The monsters... The monsters...
"We were attacked," She finally said, bringing a hand to her neck and feeling it warm and wet and stinging, "They got Ichabod, and then they got me... But he saved me, please, can you help the pain, it huuuurts."
Post by Ichabod Afof on Jan 24, 2018 20:37:24 GMT -7
Ichabod didn't know if her answer was for him or not. Ophelia told them that we were attacked, but she didn't say by whom. She did not describe the monsters, in fact she did not use the word monsters. And she mentioned that they'd gotten him, too. If she was being intentioned towards his good graces, she was giving an excellent performance.
"Ichabod?" The woman looked up to him questioningly, and he nodded somewhat, moving his hand off of his wound to show the blood, the woman just shook her head, "We'll do all we can."
She busied herself with a warm bucket of water, from which she drew a cloth that was draped over Ophelia's forehead and eyes, and a second cloth which she used to dab at Ophelia's neck, clearing it of the gore that hid the actual intensity of the wound. While she bought time for the Doctor, Ichabod filled in the blanks: "She was bitten, I... I was stabbed. But she saved me, you know? She saved me, so you've got to make sure you save her, alright?"
"And what is all the fuss here?" The doctor was younger than the woman, younger than Ichabod. He had a smooth face that was shaved except for an unfortunate moustache, and eyes that were too wide and bright for a man in his profession. He looked the actor, playing a doctor on stage. He looked like a child in his father's clothes.
The woman's lips formed a stern line for a moment, before she gestured to the girl on the table like it should be obvious, "They were attacked. She's bleeding. She needs stitches-- Him too. Her first, it's her neck... Her name's Ophelia."
The doctor nodded, shaking his head of dark curls and stepping in beside the woman and before Ophelia. Ichabod lurked in the shadow of the wall. "Ophelia, can you hear me?" The man asked, running a hand over her face gently, and giving a near-silent interjection of: "Always sad to see the pretty ones like this," Before continuing: "Ophelia, you're going to be alright. You're in good hands, you're in my hands."
Ichabod scoffed quietly, and only the woman turning her head to look at him. He wanted to ask Mother about her choice of 'help', but he could not speak without notice. So instead he would just assume it was the same reason she couldn't sense Ophelia. The doctor had Mother in his heart, where Ophelia was not so selfish. The Doctor was a beacon to Mother's eyes, even from the Underworld.
"Please, hurry," Ichabod urged, hoping the insistence came across honestly enough.
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 26, 2018 11:53:48 GMT -7
In some time where Ophelia wasn't here because she was bleeding out, this doctor's touch made her blush, and she would realize there was a reason that Claudius only let her see a midwife for any 'issues' she had, which she would never bring up to him because of how embarrassing it could be, but now she didn't blush because the doctor was just an undeterminate form above her.
And yet Ichabod's voice came through as he urged them to hurry, and she knew how confused she was outside of the pain about exactly who he was, but it made her feel better anyway.
The doctor did his work, and the woman held her hand which Ophelia squeezed very very tightly, and eventually he was done. Her neck had been stitched up, and while there was nasty bruising and it would be a scar, she was technically 'healed'. If she were more conscious she would worry about how to explain this to anyone, but for now she was going to slip into a dreamland. A dreamland where Ichabod was not confusing, where she was not attacked by a monster, and where the scene of his embrace had jsut continued into something more.
Post by Ichabod Afof on Feb 2, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -7
For once in his life, Ichabod kept quiet -- if only because, for once in his life, he had a reason to. He needed to mitigate any suspicion in order to maintain this ruse. He needed them to properly heal Ophelia. He needed them to trust that he wasn't the kind of person he actually was.
He held onto his quiet as the Doctor and his Nurse worked. They were delicate with Ophelia, and whispered quietly to one another as they worked. Ichabod might have usually been able to hear, but Mother was speaking brusquely in his mind, giving him information he had not asked for. She told him they were not to be trusted, he did not need to be told. She told him he was a fool for the trouble he had caused, he did not need to be chided. She told him that Solana was a mistake, and she had warned him -- he realized with that note that she was using this opportunity to scold him because he was being silent. He was not going to answer her back, and so she could lambaste him all she wanted.
Clever Mother.
"Let me see that," The woman had moved quickly (or he had not been paying attention) and was now standing in front of him. He thought to question what she meant, but she was already strongarming her way to his side and looked at the shallow wound Mother had left him with. He hissed at the mild sensation of pain, overdoing it as he acted. "You said you were stabbed?" She asked, and Mother hmmed in his mind.
"Barely," Ichabod tried to chuckle through faux pain, "It hurt a lot more when it happened-- But I think it barely got me."
"It?"
They were going to want the full story, and Ophelia wasn't awake to corroborate, or learn how to corroborate, him. If she woke up and told them something different, when she was more coherent? He needed to be vague, but accurate. He needed to tell a story.
"It... Them. They... They came from the tunnels. The ones under the city?"
"The tunnels are sealed, aren't they?" The doctor asked with a sigh as he leaned back from his work and took in his success. Ophelia was stitched up, bandaged, and he was now lightly running a hand over her soft but well-tousled tresses.
Were sealed, Ichabod thought. The tunnels had almost entirely been sealed before Mother taught him how to access them. Some had been left untouched, however. Some, she had warned him, were inhabited by people who could be as unpredictable as they could be useful. Assassins. He had strayed a distance from where they occupied the underground. Out loud, he answered: "I thought so, too. But I guess... I guess... I don't know. You ever hear the legends of stuff down there? Old monsters, old traps? Things from the days of the royals."
"I've heard plenty about treasure, but monsters?" The Doctor was now standing and cleaning his hands in a basin. The woman was tugging Ichabod to a chair, where she sat him down and began to take shears to his shirt where it had been split by the knife. He remembered to wince whenever she got too close to the sensitive flesh. "Sounds like an old wives' tale," The woman stated blandly, applying something cold and mildly stinging to his wound, he grunted in return.
"Yeah, well it looks like old wives know what they're talking about, sometimes, because they're real. And they got out of those tunnels. Barely saw them before they jumped me... If Ophelia hadn't been there there," He let his voice catch and his eyes languidly droop to the view of Ophelia a few feet away, "If she hadn't been there, well-- She wouldn't be like that."
"And you would have died," The doctor sat down next to Ichabod now, smiling the sleazy smile that seemed to characterize him fully. It reminded Ichabod of Ophelia's husband and the unwanted kisses and touches he had endured for the sake of performance. Why were humans so obsessed with intimacy? "I guess so," He tried to pull a flush out of his cheeks, and failed. The doctor added: "Seems she's quite the hero, then."
"How did you escape?" The woman asked as she handed the Doctor a set of tools. She was much more the problem. The Doctor, whether or not he believed Ichabod, didn't care enough to be suspicious. For some reason she did. Ichabod did not need anyone having questions. Ichabod did not need anyone to be curious enough about Ophelia to find out where she was from. Ichabod needed Ophelia to be well, to go home, and to wear turtlenecks for the next several weeks. Claudius would never look, he figured.
"I killed one of them," He chose not to lie, but he did not let his voice revel in the glee of it all, "When Ophelia distracted it... I grabbed the knife and I got it from behind. The other ones... I guess they were scared. I saw them go back into the tunnels, but Ophelia could barely stand, so I didn't look back. I just brought her here-- Is she going to be okay?"
"Just be glad you're not in Telon. The doctors there are nothing to write home about," The doctor smirked as he stitched away at Ichabod's wound, "Though it's strange. Your wound... It stopped bleeding on it's own, and it looks like it's healed somewhat. I'm guessing you're a magic user of some kind?"
"Yeah," Ichabod nodded, "Transmutation." It was the most sensible lie. If he needed to prove anything, Mother might be able to turn his hand to rock. He hoped he didn't have to prove anything.
It didn't seem like he did as the doctor nodded vaguely, "Well, a few stitches then to help your magic along and you should be golden. I'd like to keep Ophelia here though, for a few days of observation. She's lost quite a bit of blood, and I don't want that wound to get infected."
There it was. The challenge. Ichabod considered what he could say, and what he could do. If he gave the Doctor or the Nurse a hunger, they might target Ophelia instead of each other. Ichabod could attempt to kill them (and he would succeed) but what if Ophelia woke up? He could try to talk his way out of it, perhaps? Maybe even... A combination. Yes. That was it, wasn't it? There was no wrong answer here.
"I'm afraid that won't work," Ichabod interjected, teeth gritting as he felt a needle lightly jab him. The nurse narrowed her eyes at him, and he wished he could narrow his eyes right back, "Her husband..."
That got their attention. The Nurse's suspicion turned to something else - mere curiosity? - and the Doctor scoffed a small laugh. "And I'm guessing that's not you, is it, Ichabod?" Ichabod shook his head, "I'm afraid there aren't any other options. I think her husband will notice if she has a wound above her clavicle."
"You'd be surprised."
"So you just take her home, wrap her in a scarf and call it a night?" The Nurse was such trouble. Ichabod hated her. He wanted to pluck out those eyes and force her to eat them before killing her.
Instead he shrugged, "He cares more that she's at home, then what she's wearing. Besides, it's winter."
"I'll tell you what," The doctor decided, going to wash his hands once more now that Ichabod was left with the Nurse to be bandaged, "You give me the information on where she lives. I can visit her there, under some kind of pretense that seems appropriate to you. That way, we can make sure she doesn't get infected, and you can try to get away with your secret love affair. How's that sound?"
It sounded terrible, honestly. The plan was flawed both from the Doctor's own knowledge of the problem, and for Ichabod's actual plans. It wasn't going to do, but could he say that? No, of course not. He still had a ruse to maintain. "Yeah, yeah that could work," Ichabod nodded, trying to be a kindly gentleman just trying to protect his love. At least for another few minutes. "Is she going to wake up soon?" He asked, "I want to get her home before sun-up--"
"No, she'll be unconscious for hours still," The nurse answered, finishing up the application of his bandage, "When she's ready we can arrange a carriage back for you, to keep her motion limited. Assuming you've got the coin to pay for all this--"
"That shouldn't be a problem," Ichabod smiled, a real smile of his, now that he knew how peaceably Ophelia would be sleeping, and for how long. "You take jewels, I hope? I don't carry coin."
"If they're real, we'll take whatever you've got," The doctor laughed as he dried his hands. The man stopped and froze somewhat as he saw the smile on Ichabod's face grow.
"That's good," The demon told them, digging a hand into his pocket and feeling his Mother take hold.
When his hand came back out, his fingertips were sharpened emeralds, and with a powerful thrust he dug two into the nurse's eyes. He could feel them bend to his sharp touch as soon as they pressed through the first lens, and the feeling of cold turkish deligh embrace his fingers. He reached his other hand for her head to push her more deeply against his fingers, and relished in the cry she released in exchange.
The doctor had already grasped a scalpel as Ichabod pulled the woman's head off of his fingers, the eyes pulling out with them, and the optic nerves tearing from the force, but he didn't care. The doctor stabbed him in the same moment that Ichabod reached out and gripped the human's jugular. The stab hurt, and Ichabod let out a groan, but he maintained eye contact with the doctor and smiled once more. "Hungry?" He asked, his grip rippling with gluttony and filling the human from his esophagus and down into his stomach. Then, Ichabod brought the two eyes up to the man's mouth, like grotesque skewers of meatball. Unable to resist Ichabod's thrall, the man's mouth slowly opened (oh how he fought) and his tongue lapped out for a taste as Ichabod jammed fingers into the man's mouth, choking him with the eyes.
He held them there for a time, and felt teeth nashing against his hard-as-rock fingers, attempting to relieve the sensation of near death. It wasn't enough, though, and the man began to lose consciousness. As his grip on the scalpel fell, and the doctor's eyes closed, Ichabod released him, and pushed him onto the floor -- but he wasn't dead yet, just unconscious.
Ichabod turned to the nurse, knowing that he had not landed a killing blow on her, either. She was attempting to crawl away from him, a weeping mass touch-seeing her way through the room and crashing into everything along the way. In three purposeful strides he caught up to her, and grasped her hair in an iron grip, pulling her head up and feeling hair rip from her scalp with the force. "Oh no, dear, I'm not done with you yet..." The nurse wept in response, clawing at him and trying to get free, but Ichabod was not a man of pity, and he had pretending to be someone else for too long today. Right now, he was himself. And boy oh boy was it good to be back.
By the time Ichabod was done with his prey, they were hogtied, blindfolded and gagged using whatever he could find in the house. He had managed to get the location of the carriage from the doctor once he was conscious, and as he begged for food - which Ichabod provided in the form of the Nurse's tongue - and loaded the two inside of it before returning to gather Ophelia, who he treated with far more gentility.
It wasn't far to the next hidden entrance of the tunnels, which was just where he wanted to go. Ichabod took the carriage to it, loaded in his three sacks of flesh, two with a rough toss and one gently placed in the snow, and then slapped the horse to have it gallop off in some random direction. He was more concerned with his prey than with evidence that might be left behind.
Once inside of the tunnel, Ichabod left the two whimpering, bound masses of worthless human not far from the entrance, and made them a promise: "Don't worry, you won't be alone for long. You also won't be alive for long, but... Unfortunately that's not my duty for this evening." He chuckled at them, and enjoyed one last look at his handiwork before traversing the tunnels to the place where he and Solana had made their temporary home.
His creatures had returned, it seemed. They were in the corner as they usually were, bent down and whispering to one another. They froze as they heard his approach, and turned to sit on their knees before him. They must have expected a 'talking to' of some kind, but Ichabod could be a benevolent God on occasion. He laid Ophelia on the bed, and then turned to them as they sniffed for her blood.
"She's not for you," He chided gently, wiping his bloodied hands upon their waiting tongues, "But this is. Follow the scent down the tunnels, and be wary of traps, my dear ones. You'll find them with beating hearts and blood rich for the taking. Do with them what you will. Remain in the tunnels tonight. Avoid me if you smell me. I need time alone. Understood?"
The coven of them hissed and growled and thanked him, and soon they disappeared through the door and down the tunnel to the source of the blood that Ichabod wore. Soon -- he was alone with Ophelia.
With a sigh he went to the water basin to wash himself of blood, knowing he had only an hour or less before Ophelia would awake. He wanted for his face to be the first she saw when that happened, and he wanted that face to be free of gore. She was still a delicate proposition, after all.
Last Edit: Apr 23, 2018 9:46:19 GMT -7 by Ichabod Afof
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Feb 7, 2018 10:09:38 GMT -7
Ophelia did not dream as she rested, because her body needed to focus on healing itself. Instead she just existed in a nothingness, oblivious to the evils that Ichabod was doing around her in the real world.
When she did wake up it was in a place that was dark, dank, and unfamiliar, but Ichabod was sitting above her. It took a moment to figure out what was happening, but as her neck ached she remembered: Monsters, bite, doctors, now... here?
"Where... Where are we?" She asked, trying to sit up, "Where is the doctor?"
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