Darian Trump (![]() ![]() @ 2012-05-07 19:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | darian trump |
Who: Darian Trump.
What: Flooded.
Where: Arcturus' basement, then the river between the Northern and Southern Woods.
Rating: PG-13.
Status: Complete.
OOC Note: I'm leaving it there for anyone to come find her. PREFERABLY a Freki.
Drip. Drip. Drop.
Darian could hear the beginnings of the storm take over Shadow Falls, and it made her all the more anxious. How was she going to tolerate the new moon in this cell? She couldn't explain it for reasons unknown, but she had been more anxious than any of her other moons and she couldn't find an explanation for it. Other than the situation she had found herself in.
Arcturus, once he had revealed to her exactly who he was, kept her in the basement of the quaint, average abode that he called home. The confinements of the dungeon were far from ordinary of the house's appearance; it was so secure that despite how often she shifted and tried to ram her way out of the bars, she had been unable to escape. Owen seemed to miss her frantic screams of terror, whenever she thought she heard him upstairs. She didn't know anymore. The past few weeks of nothing but the stone walls, silence, and the occasional torturing and mockery of Arcturus had been immensely painful and demeaning to her sense of overconfidence and pride. Darian was destroyed. Exhausted and destroyed.
No matter how many times she pleaded, begged, asked for him to cut her tongue so that she could never say who he was- Arcturus had none of it. He enjoyed her blood, he had told her, and a girl as foolish as she, who trusted vampires so easily, deserved the ending she got. But it was if he wanted to withdraw insanity from her, because he never killed her, only strung her out further and further until she became a hollow shell of a person who quietly endured the torture that came in waves; when Arcturus was bored, or when she suddenly found the gusto to challenge his authority. Claim that Freki would find her and that he would be overthrown. Storm had said it, hadn't he? That the vampires of the town didn't necessarily like the vampire's authority and he would be rid of soon. Darian could only hope that would come before her own demise.
But all of that was not what came to mind, when water began to seep in at the woman's feet. Bright eyes flew wide with terror at the idea that the basement was flooding, but she held in her panic until she felt water pool around her knees. "Arcturus! Arcturus, let me out! Arcturus, please, PLEASE!" Her hands slammed against the bars, knowing that she would shift soon, that it would be harder to try to slip through the bars and find her way out. Having fur would protect her from hypothermia for only a short period of time, because she was certainly a better swimmer when human. "ARCTURUS!" The scream was shrill, petrified, somehow more desperate and pleading than all of other other screams. Because for some reason, Darian knew at the bottom of her chest. This was it. Something about the point that the water had risen to her waist in such a short period of time indicated finality.
Before she knew it, the blonde's head was submerged, water swirling all around her. Desperate, struggling, the werewolf used every bit of last energy she had to swim to the ceiling of the cell, managing a last breath before the cell was entirely submerged. She had to be able to get out, right? Her hands went to the window that she had never been able to reach, far higher than her hands and head could ever reach from standing on ground, and Darian pounded her fists against the glass...harder, harder, trying to conserve every last breath she possibly could, before unconsciousness took her, and the lack of oxygen took her completely moments later.
There, Darian lay, face-down into the water, limbs spread out almost beautifully. A corpse. Darian had died.
As if to do the werewolf a sick justice, to give peace to those who had been looking for her, the glass of the window that she had been trying to escape from, cracked a few hours later from the pressure of water. A body, hard and cold, floated out from what was the dictator's basement, into the street, until a mop of blonde hair and emaciated limbs arrived at the river near the Southern Woods, where her body finally lodged between a large rock and two other dead humans.
Darian looked like she was everything from peaceful in her last few moments. A strained expression on her face which held until the last breath, eyes wide with horror, it was clear on the twenty-seven year old's face that she was not ready to have her last few moments yet. Her body, marred with cuts and scrapes, burns and wounds, told any person who would happen to find her that the physical damage was not from banging against surfaces in her travel to the woods when deceased, but that she had been a tortured being for a long time prior to her death. Cheeks sunken in, lip torn, limbs almost as blue and red with injury as they were white from passing, Darian lay there in the river.
Who knew who would find her.