Posts by STARBABY -

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[img width=510 height=106]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Svetlana&name=leaguescriptnumberone.ttf&size=100&style_color=C5D9CE[/img]

The hardest part is never the killing, at least not anymore, it's the hiding.

I can feel the scrutinizing stare now, his piercing blue eyes burning through my cloak. I lift up nimble fingers to pull the hood further over my eyes so the shadows cover my face, so that he won't notice the faint dust of freckles over my nose. I feel like all the men in our group are too curious for their own good, and it bothers me that even Lucas can't help his inner curiosity. As a kid he seemed to be just as adventurous and never was one to take caution. Now, he's alert and fights admirably well, but I see that little boy has yet to grow up. But I can't be one to judge.

Thinking back to a little Lucas makes me long for my youth. Not saying I'm old! But.. being a child was so much easier. Now, I have blood on my hands and sins I will never be able to atone, and if I could they would come with great effort. I wouldn't mind it though. Being a princess with a life of adventure is far better than the fairytales of being locked in a tower, even if it involved death. Admittedly, I never wanted to marry the Prince of Ireland solely because I feared he'd leave me in one of those high towers in the first place. I even grew out my hair just incase the said misfortune ever befell me.

I lift my head now, desperate to shake childish memories from my mind. It's easy to be lost in your head, I should know. For a moment, my hands have to run over the hilts of my twin katana blades just for the reassurance I'll never live that life. I walk after our leader with as much dignity as I can muster beneath that wondering gaze, and dare not lock my eyes with Lucas because of such a determined look. It'll be a flood of memories, and that is one gate I have no desire to go through. I'm something else now, we're different. We'll never be those royal blooded children with foolish minds anymore. We're adults with a duty to death.. I squeeze the hilts and look away entirely, look away to a mother whisking her child away from us. They fear us now? I think to myself, lifting a hand to push loose strands of hair from my face. The cold takes pleasure in chilling me, and takes game in sending gusts of wind to blow my hood away. I grab the edges of the hood and pull it down, looking rather silly compared to the men around me who stand tall. I could care less, they have nothing to hide from! I tell myself, a calming excuse for the way I appear now.

[i hope this was ok! I didn't really know who was older than who and such, so on my next reply I'll give her details. Oh, and welcome back of course! <3]

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[img width=510 height=106]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Svetlana&name=leaguescriptnumberone.ttf&size=100&style_color=C5D9CE[/img]

I keep going at a steady pace, not really paying attention to whoever's stalking us. My intentions are to not be left behind because of some stupid wardrobe malfunction. I'd like to believe I'm safer without a cloak, but anyone would be sure to notice my light freckles across the bridge of my nose, and even the smallness of it. I've made changes to myself for extra security, and so the cloak shouldn't be mandatory, but I've gotten too cautious over the years and too doubtful.

Sure, I'd dyed my hair, silken black waves traded in for straight dull white, as the first measure of my disguise. However, the waves are barely seen at the roots, crimping down to hair the acid of the dye has killed. To be honest, I loved the flow of the waves and how they caught on the wind and I would've kept it, but it remains soft and silky despite the fact it lays flat on my back. I resent the way my face looks too. I've thinned, by cheekbones have gotten sharper and my features are no longer the plumpness of a little girl. However, there are just some things you can't change and though they are small details, I feel they are the most noticeable. I've regretted not trying to show myself, at least keeping it a secret amongst the mercenary group, but then I'd be treated different. There are member here who seem to hate royal blood already. Would they apologize, spare me even, despite their loathing? And because I don't know, I have no choice to remain hidden.

I'm broken from my thoughts when the horse to carriage whinny in surprise. Keeping my hood pulled taught around my face, I look up with narrowed eyes of dark honey. It's rare to be stopped by civilians, rare to none, and I'm about to ask what the delay is when a predator springs from the crowd. The man's armed, and it takes no time for Lucas to respond. It's a clean, yet partially brutal kill, and it's admirably quick. Look at you Lana, not paying attention and running right into a trap. What will be said now? I can't help but scold myself for being so petty and so side-tracked, and I grit my teeth with determination. Yet, another man dares run up to the carriage from the opposite side, and I'm blinded by the need to redeem myself that I jump before our leader and whip out my blades. Stolen objects of death. At first the man flinches, and he reaches in his pocket for something, no doubt a gun. Laughing softly to myself, I dash in for the few seconds he gives me vulnerability, but he seems to be not so dazed I'd thought. He whips out his pistol and clicks the bullet in place, and I stand erect in the line of sight.

"Shoot me, if it's in your wish," I tell him, and the man seems to look over me uneasily. It's probably the cloak, the fact I wear it and my comrades don't. It must make me seem special, in a frightening type of way. In his moment of hesitation, I get low and kick him fiercely in the shin. With a cry the man buckles and I kick him again in the chest. With a blinding need to fight, I'm on him like a cat, and the man reaches a hand up to my hood with gritted teeth of malice. "My apologies," I whisper, but it seems the man has no intent on dying, and though he's the one without the advantage, he takes joy in grabbing the top of my hood along with some hair and I yelp. Meaning for one katana blow, it seems I've gone for two. His hand is in a death grip, fist full of fabric and hair, and protruding from his neck come the blades and the ruby-red pool. Grimacing, I'm quick to take the blades from his throat and rise so sharply that some of my hood tears away, even a few strands of hair. I'd be frantic, to be honest, if I hadn't been too busy staring at his torn throat. Yet another tally to add to sea of tallies, and it captivates me in the worst of moments.

[literally.. where did all this muse come from ;x;

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[img width=510 height=106]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Svetlana&name=leaguescriptnumberone.ttf&size=100&style_color=C5D9CE[/img]

When Lucas pulls me away from the man, I feel like a baby. I stand there, letting him hold me and it's not until the horses neigh in the distance when I regain myself. White strips of hair flash across my vision, whipping against my cheeks, and then I yank my arm from Lucas' grip. I turn on him right then, ready to give him a sharp retort, but then I see he's wounded. There's a wound still drizzling from his cheek and blood gushes from his thigh. I can't believe he's protected me even after he's got his own problems, and I don't think he even knew who I was. For a moment, I'm lost in why he'd even attempt to save a hidden life like mine, but then I'm running my fingers through his black hair as I once did when I was seven. I can't help it. It was so amazing soft and fluffy then, and it's yet to change. Promise never to cut it like a soldier? I'd asked him years ago, and I wonder if he ever listened.

When his eyes glitter with determination, I look up and realize we've yet to win this battle. Men slink towards us, and I snicker at the way they look. Sure, Lucas might've sent the horseman away, but the snobbish weasel wouldn't want to be touched by these ugly brutes. Wouldn't want to ruin that fur coat, right? I push the strands away from my face and grip the hilts of the twin blades. "I don't want you getting up Luca, just stand off a bit and make yourself a tourniquet to stop all that bleeding," I tell him, a firmness in my tone that surprises even me, the nickname alone gives me a shudder. Despite the gentle tone, I have a need to return the deed he's done for me. He's saved my life, and now I'll return the favor so I've no debts to hang by. I shouldn't be thinking this way, it should be easy to simply fight for his safety because he was so handsome and boy I was once to be betrothed to. But this is the repayment you give to a stranger, and it's the unfamiliarity crashing with the familiar. He's a stranger now, so unrecognizable his own people to recognize him and he doesn't even need a cloak to cover himself.

I sigh heavily and position myself like a cat ready to pounce on its mouse. When I was younger, my father used to call me kitten. Now, I wonder what nickname he'd give me now. Panther? Tiger? Beast? In my distracted state, Aiden has to yell at me to raise my right katana and take a swing at the man's neck. It makes a clean cut, and he crashes to the ground with a sickening crack and leaves a splash of color on the dull cobblestones. Instinctively my eyes narrow, and I raise my head for the next onslaught. It's a female now, her head shaved to brown stubble, and she comes at me with a snarl. She's got two daggers, quite long, and when I go for a quick slice at her leg, she has no problem deflecting the attack. We trade blows and grunts, and she has the nerve to give a sharp laugh of amusement, and so startling the laugh she catches me off guard. It comes first with a fiery pain in my side and then a heavy thing to my head. I crumple to the stones, holding my head as I curl into myself.

My side shrieks in protest and my vision blurs as my head sings a shrieking symphony of pain. Grunting, I have a hard time adjusting my blurred vision, and when I see a foot cocked back to kick my face, my hand shoots out to grab the oncoming foot. I use it as leverage to pull myself up a bit where I grip at the woman's clothes. She's cursing under her breath, readying the dagger for a final blow, but I'm able to catch hold of her wrist. I must have a deadly grip on her, because she gives a sharp cry of pain and I hear a clatter before my hand slips. It's wet, maybe with blood? I don't know because black dots my vision so violently I can only muster a grin and lay my head down on the stones, trying vainly to regain full vision.

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[img width=510 height=106]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Svetlana&name=leaguescriptnumberone.ttf&size=100&style_color=C5D9CE[/img]

I gasp when I wake, and it takes me a while to realize I'm knocked out. Red lines my vision on my left eye, and rub vigorously at it only to see red flakes rub onto my fist. I grimace at the realization I've been bleeding and equally knocked out, that I'm not the least bit concerned about the change of scenery. Not until I sit up atleast, ready to wash the mess off on my face. There walls of dark wood surrounding me, a table, a fridge, an over-hanging light, two small rooms, probably a bathroom and a kitchen? Beneath my fingers is satisfactory softness, and then I realize I've changed from stones to a bed.

I don't know why, but I'm infuriated, and I ache all over but at least I'm not disarmed. Hell, I'm not even cleaned up! I should be thankful for this hospitality, but instead I grip one bloodied katana and with great effort, of silence and strength, heave myself over the edge of the bed. Then I see him, and it blows my mind how I hadn't noticed him before. He looks mildly troubled, and he's running his hands through his hair and leaning so casually against the wall that I can't help but scoff and plop back on the bed. Part of me is relieved a stranger hadn't picked me up, maybe even worse, but another part of me feels anxious and invaded. I feel so small every time I'm around Lucas, so insignificant I'm weak. And maybe he's looked over me in my time of vulnerability and realized who I really am. The inevitable hits me in a thousand different ways and I hug myself for reassurance, hissing when I realize the effort stings. I lift up my shirt a bit, revealing a toned stomach only in such condition by my lifestyle, sliced by a thin red line. I hiss at it, and slam my head back into the bed only to hear a ring in my ears.

God it hurts so bad.. "Thank you," I say curtly, trying to change the tone of my voice. It's got a softness made for a generous princess, but I'm no princess anymore. No. I'm not generous anymore.. My eyes flutter as I turn my back to him and run my hands through my hair. "Did we win at all? Where's Aiden and the boss?" I ask again, trying to avoid an awkward silence between them.

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[img width=510 height=106]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Svetlana&name=leaguescriptnumberone.ttf&size=100&style_color=C5D9CE[/img]

He's so gentle, so soft, that I let him clean me up. Deep down I know, that if it was anyone else I would've snapped at them, shoving their hand away and screaming their ears off. But I can't it in me right now. That fiery side is momentarily kindled, especially when he caresses my face and so freely touches me. Like it's no problem, and he heals people all the time like this. Well, maybe he does. Maybe he does and I don't know. That's when my cheeks flush, and the heat is so intense I know my lightly tanned skin will look a bright red. He'll notice, and he'll surely make a comment. Like a nervous schoolgirl around her crush, I give a soft giggle and bat his hands away. I feel embarrassed for not doing anything sooner, and even more so for responding the way I did. He shouldn't fluster me, but he does. He shouldn't care, but he's so concerned and the intensity of his blue eyes moments before made my heart beat so loudly I though he might've heard it. He shouldn't feel the need to protect me, what's to protect of a girl he doesn't know.

Then I tense up and flinch away from him altogether. That's right. He doesn't know me, and I don't know him. We only know our names, I hope he remembered mine at least. I never talked much when the mercenaries gathered and they've so rarely seen my face I'm pretty much a shadow. Insignificant and belittled beneath my cloak. He's been too curious, and I've been too ignorant, and he's no right to feel such duty the way he does. Protecting a stranger? How heroic, and somehow sickening. I don't know what part makes me ill the way it does, but it's there nevertheless. I pull my knees to myself, and remember with a sharp pain, that my side is wounded. How many times of stinging retorts will it take me to remember? At least he's cleaned it though, and the cry's dulled to a faint throb. "I'm fine. I may be delicate, but I'm just as capable as you are," I tell him, although it might be a bit sharper than I'd like. I can't look at him, and thinking about his gentleness, his capacity to be so deadly and then a sweet little puppy makes my face burn, and I slam my fists to cover what must be a bright bloom of color spreading into my face.

"When are we getting back on the road?" I ask again, always coming with questions. I know I'm not exactly fit for travel, but I'd hate to stay in this hotel any longer. I'm anxious at Lucas' side and I fear for what my comrades and the Weasel will have to say. I'm worried at how long Lucas will make me wait, sitting here till I'm better. At once I realize that I don't need his consent, I my face only worsens when I think I need him to tell me what to do. Heck, I could leave now if I wanted... right?

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[img width=510 height=106]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Svetlana&name=leaguescriptnumberone.ttf&size=100&style_color=C5D9CE[/img]

When he cocks his head, I realize I was right about the whole curious puppy comparison. That's really all he's being right now, a little puppy who seems intent on testing her limits. He pokes at my burning cheeks for a while like a little boy, and then there's this cheesy and flirtatious glow about him. It makes my heart thud in my chest and gives my body a shudder. Honestly, what was his true intentions? Just another pretty boy doing pretty boy things, and instead of being affected by it, I choose to deflect it. Confuse him even. My former reaction, of more intense blushing and desperate need to avoid his eyes, is carefully manipulated into leaning towards him, our noses touching. I grin back, his light-hearted and mine mischievous. I didn't see this as a change of view about him, but more of a deeper way to deflect his charm. I'd never think of Lucas to be so two-sided so easily. He's playful at heart, really just a big baby, but I'm caught in the storm of how many women he might lock in a hotel room and flirt with her. Probably none, you paranoid parasite, I scold myself, because those are pettish thoughts.

Tilting my chin upwards, I laugh equally gently. "A piggyback ride, hm? Wouldn't that be thrilling! You could be my stallion and I'd be the knight, and we'd ride away into the sunset as heroes and appear before Aiden and Jake as victorious warriors," I purr, tapping my finger to his nose before pulling back. Human transportation has always been one of my favorites, especially since I'm not tiny, but still small, and shockingly light. I'm further considering this until he offers to prank the soldiers, and my eyes widen to the size of saucers. The thought comes off too appealing, a temptation that blooms within me as a good thing. It'd surely be exciting, and I'm always such an imp when it comes to fooling with people. But I know him and I are hardly in condition for such a thing. We might accidently get hit in our weak spots and then slow down, even be caught. So I give him a flutter of thick lashes and a raised brow.

"Do something fun?" she repeated it, and the words sent her spine crawling and her heart thumping. "Honestly, I think you being a horse would be very fun to watch." I grin at him, sitting on my knees and still leaning a bit towards him with a humorous smile.