Silk, Lace, and Flame

[Mira Nightingale]

((This thread is closed to everyone except Verdan. If you post, you will be IGNORED. Also, please note that this thread has some suggestive material required of my plot, and I rate it PG-13. Read at your own risk, lol.))

The mansion was lit in a single window from several candelabra littered about the finely furnished room. The rest of Mira’s elaborate new home was dark and silent, except for the servant’s quarters on the ground floor. The noise down there could not be heard on the third floor master bedroom, which was completely silent and still except for a single figure.

That single figure was seated on the large bed in the center of the room, hands clenched tightly in her lap and trembling every now and then, as the room’s only source of warmth on the freezing evening was a crackling fireplace halfway between the bed and the room’s door. Her blood red hair was held high on her head in a loose bun, easily taken out by removing the two elaborate jade pins that held it together; presents she had received earlier. The figure was also dressed in a simple, practically sheer nightgown of silk and lace. So small compared to the large bed and chambers, she looked like nothing more than a small child.

But she was no small child. Her name was Mira, she was eighteen years old, and she was officially the wife of the man who owned this house. Her wedding ceremony had been a disaster, and during the after party people had been nervous and sullen. She, herself, had felt strangely empty, like a part of her soul had been torn out. The day had even gone by in a blur, and that was not from fun, but from her mind not really being completely in this world. It was truly a strange feeling.

Glancing once out the window, Mira tensed as the branches of a nearby tree scratched at the panes of glass. Realizing after a moment that it was no ghost she returned to staring forward like a soulless creature. That lasted for a few more minutes, until the doorknob turned signaling the entrance of the other person this room belonged to...

[Verdan]

((Sweet. I get a post all for myself. <3

Haha, PG-13. Come to The Six Spheres (sixspheres.proboards75.com/index.cgi), and you'll see some REAL PG-13. Or maybe even more. Hehe.))

Verdan was having a great day. The sun was brightly shining upon him, the birds were singing and he was strolling through a beautiful-smelling flower garden, Mira alongside him. For one reason or another, the pair stopped. Their eyes locked. They leaned closer to each other and suddenly, Verdan blew the nearest tree into woodchips.

He woke from his daydream, a bloodlust burning in his red-rimmed eyes. He was going to murder that Lord Bryant. Probably sooner than later, that piece of wealthy blubber was going to die. By Verdan's hand. And the noble was going to scream in agony, pleading for death, but no. It would be way too fast and way too simple. He was going to die a slow, torturous death.

A maniacal grin spread across Verdan tired face as he, garbed in black robes, stole his way through Avaren. He had his hood up and it cast a dark shadow upon his face, making it impossible to recognize the Scholar. Not really realizing where he was headed, the mage ended up in the housing district of the City of Warriors. Lifting his head up just enough to cast an indifferent glance around, he continued his slow path down the street.

[Mira Nightingale]

((Pfffff. Six spheres is more like PG-16, if not R.))

Blue-gray eyes stared at the slowly turning ornate gold doorknob as the finely wrought oak door slowly opened as well. A man slipped into the chambers, wearing loose gold pajamas that hid his rolls of blubber, a matching nightcap that hid his balding head, and a long, thick black robe that hid his pajamas. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and he locked the door easily.

As he turned around, Mira couldn’t help but shiver, and it wasn’t from the icy feel of the room. A slightly concerned expression crossed the elder’s face as he strode across the room toward the fireplace. “Cold, my dear?” he asked Mira in his pompous, stuffy voice. Mira tried to answer normally, but her usually strong voice came out meek and soft as she replied with, “A bit, my lord.”

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Lord Bryant stoked the flames for a few long minutes in which the thickness of the air practically choked Mira. The looming dread was unbearable, especially how Lord Bryant didn’t even seem to care about her reaction at all. Then again, she was a wife now, and she had her duties to her husband.

Finally, although horribly, the flames were roaring to a much warmer degree, even though the room still remained icy to the woman wearing practically nothing. Lord Bryant undid the tie of his robe with as much grace as his chubby hands could offer, and then swung it over the back of the chair of his nearby writing desk. Turning around, he eyed his wife for a long, extremely uncomfortable moment before slowly undoing the top several buttons of his shirt and advancing on Mira.

[Verdan]

((We can make it NC-17. *Wink*))

Realizing that he was somewhere in the vicinity of his residence, and the Nightingales' residence, Verdan picked up his head. Seeing one of the windows in a house suddenly flare up much more brightly than it was just a few minutes ago, the mage figured that someone had just walked into the room with a large candelabrum. Or they just lit a fireplace, or added fire to an existing one. No matter the cause, the effect was the same: an increased amount of light. Not realizing to whom the house belonged to, Verdan rewarded it with only a slight pause of his wandering eyes.

((Short, yes, but idk what to post...))

[Mira Nightingale]

((It’s okay. I just don’t want to make my posts super long, so it’s taking longer than expected. And no, no NC-17 site. One, that’s against Proboards rules. Two, you’re too young for me. ^_~))

Her fists clenched tighter in her lap, and her nails dug painfully down into the palms of her hands. This could not be happening. It just couldn’t. Not realizing her distress, or either not caring at all, Lord Bryant raised a hand and slowly caressed her cheek, before moving it to the nape of the neck and then reaching up and pulling the pins out of her hair. The beautiful jade pins fell away onto the floor without a sound, and Mira’s long hair fell free from its constraints, cascading down over her shoulders.

Heart pounding from fear rather than any kind of excitement, Mira clenched her hands harder and tried to stop herself from crying, trembling, or making any kind of noise. The faster this nightmare was over with, the better. No matter how hard she tried, though, the second Lord Bryant kissed her and reached down to grope at her chest, she squeaked in shock and horror, pushed him away with as much force she could muster, and scampered toward the door.

The door was locked, and apparently Lord Bryant had expected some kind of resistance from his young bride, because he had hidden the key as well. After trying to pull it open several times, she swallowed and turned back toward Lord Bryant, who had disposed of his shirt in her attempted escape. The rolls of fat made her stomach churn unpleasantly, and then when he opened his mouth and laughed harshly, she almost started crying.

“Come back here. Where did you think you were going?” he practically snarled, taking a few steps closer and reaching out to grab her roughly. Darting out of the way, but realizing she couldn’t go toward the bed, she pressed herself against the other wall, feeling completely helpless. There was no where she could go. Why, why hadn’t she run away with Verdan when freedom had been so close? The answer, in the end, was her pride. She couldn’t turn her back on her family and everyone she had known all her life. She was too proud for that. Her current predicament showed, however, that pride got a person absolutely no where in life.

[Verdan]

((I don't mind uber-long posts, provided that they're not pointless crap.

One, really? Hm, you learn something new every day. Two, 2 MORE YEARS!!!))

so verdan wuz liek waking anbd thehn he heard a screm. i tghinik ill bland into teh shaddews noww he says. so he gows and liek blands into the shadows

((Hurry up and finish the story so Verdan can go and do fun stuff))

[Mira Nightingale]

((No. Not until you fix your post. I don't reply to crap.))

[Verdan]

You know what's funny? That you didn't reply to any of my other posts in this thread either, considering that you're just writing what's happening. Had the two characters been interacting, you would have had any right to say that. However, seeing as they're not and you're merely stretching out whatever it is that you wish to say into a gazillon posts, you have no right to. I can't keep writing three paragraph posts of how Verdan was walking along. Now, hurry up and finish whatever you're planning to.

[Muryllis]

(( XD ))

[Mira Nightingale]

I don't need a three paragraph post from you.
Just something READABLE that shows a little bit of INTELLIGENCE.

[Verdan]

Why? You don't even need to read it. Just write your little story. And when Verdan comes in, I'll write intelligent stuff. Promise.

[Mira Nightingale]

Five sentences. That's all I need you to post.

[Verdan]

1. Verdan was still walking down the street.
2. He was very depressed and angry.
3. He wondered about how Mira was doing with her new husband.
4. Remembering how she treated him, a wave of anger washed over the mage.
5. He blended into the shadows.

[Mira Nightingale]

Taking another step back was futile. The fire crackled merrily mere centimeters from her legs, not understanding the distress Mira had gotten herself into. The wall was against her back, and a heap of lard was closing in on her, not caring about her at all. Gold could shine too brightly in the eyes of many, and Lord Bryant was no exception. Her dowry, her name, and her youth were all he cared about. Nothing else at all, and she shouldn’t have hoped he could change. She should have put her destiny into her own hands, should have…

His hands came down roughly, most likely bruising her, as he jerked her away from the wall and turned to shove her towards the bed. She yelped loudly, reaching out to slap him, but something else happened first. Just as it did when she was with Shadow, the fire reacted to her emotions. It burst out of the confines of the fireplace, growing in strength and magnitude as easily as a volcano could erupt.

Mira’s yelp was drowned out by a loud, horse, and very male scream. The room blazed, Mira shielded her eyes and was successfully tossed across the room. Landing heavy on the ground and her right ankle, she winced as pain shot through it. That pain was long forgotten, though, as the loud screams continued. Looking up from her position sprawled on the floor, Mira screamed as well.

Where Lord Bryant once was, there was a large ball of blackness and fire. Waving limbs of blackened, peeling skin slung about in every direction as blood and pusses oozed from starched body parts and dripped onto the carpet, which was covered with flakes of black and red. The figure continued to scream, but then another noise penetrated the still night; the pounding of at least twenty feet, and corresponding shouts, on the staircase. They would be at the room in less than a minute.

Still screaming for her life as the bed curtains sparked ablaze from the mass of flame, Mira threw herself at the window, scrambling for the latch. She would not burn alive, and she would not be hung for murder, whether intended or unintended. She would take her own destiny into her hands! The latch sprung open, and Mira pushed the window out as far as it would go. It swung on the hinges, providing her with a large enough space to exit.

Gripping onto the windowsill she chanced one look back, and was greeted by a loud pop of skin, a corresponding scream, and a whole finger falling onto the floor. At least she thought it was his finger. It was impossible to tell. Pounding on the door to the room started, and Mira jerked her eyes away from the carnage. Without a moment’s hesitation she threw herself at the tree outside the window, slamming hard into the trunk and scrambling for a hold on one of the branches as she slid down.

The next few moments were a blur. Mira remembered sliding down the trunk, landing on her aching ankle and hearing a loud, sickening snap as the bone broke. She remembered crying out, and feeling blood dripping down her face from a cut the length of her cheek. She remembered running and limping as fast as she could away from the house, her ankle burning every time she put weight on it. And through all that she didn’t even notice that the shouts in the house had ceased, or the fact that her already thin nightgown was practically in tatters. All she could think about was survival; and those instincts of survival controlled every burst of adrenaline and thought that raced through her mind as her very being was intent on escape.

[Verdan]

((I'm very pissed right now 'cause I had a really good and really long post and then it got deleted. So now I'm about to kill everyone. And this is gonna be a crap post too. GODDAMMIT!!! Luckily, I did not write anything that's highly relevant to the situation. So now, I'll just leave it out.))


Verdan was startled by male and female screams. Someone was clearly having too much fun. However, they were not screams of pleasure, but those of pain, terror and panic. The window that warmly flared up a short time ago was now blazing with blinding orange light that stood out against the darkness of the rest of the street. Suddenly, the window flew open and a figure dressed in a white nightgown threw itself out at the tree growing nearby. When the shape reached the bottom, all that was left of the nightgown was dirty rags. A disgusting crunch of bone announced a clumsy landing.

The figure somehow managed to pull itself up and began to limp away into the darkness. His curiosity awakened, the young Scholar disconnected from the wall and began to follow the young woman who was clearly in shock from the fire in her house. She was traveling surprisingly fast for someone with a broken leg, but adrenaline does that to people. Picking up his pace, Verdan took a turn into an alleyway, ending up cutting off the girl. Stepping out of the shadows directly into her path, Verdan caught the panic-stricken noblewoman in his arms.