Halne Gallagher (_fallengrace) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-05-09 09:59:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-07-13 |
Blood and darkness
Who: Halne
Where: Zale's apartment
When: Some six or so hours after Halne's dropped off by Adair and Simon
It was the scent of blood that pulled Halne from the long dark tunnel of fatigue. She instinctually tried to sit up, but was kept from completing the movement by cloth that bound her. She blinked frantically, her eyelashes fluttering against the material of a blindfold. A length of cloth was also in her mouth, and she spat at it in the hopes that it would come out, working her jaw. After a few moments, her mouth was freed and she sighed aloud. The cloth made her body feel bruised wherever it touched her, even if it was through clothing. The smile that curved Halne's mouth was bitter and unforgiving as the memories of the evening hit her. At the same time, she registered that it was Zale's blood that she scented.
Halne wriggled, panic-stricken, against the bonds, her sire's name a sorrowful cry in the rank air of the apartment. Her weakness was making it very hard to rise above the curse that had been woven into the fabric. She stilled her body, unable to free herself. She writhed once more, reflexively, almost making the choice to free her wings until her shirt moved and the cursed cloth wrapped around her torso made contact with her bare skin. Halne had touched cursed metal before. The cloth did not feel the same, but it was far from comfortable. In her helplessness, Halne's spirit flickered, her hope guttering like a candle in the wind.
The scent of Zale's blood kept assaulting her senses, and just when she thought she'd gotten used to its fragrance, another thought would go through her head about what might have happened. It wasn't the evidence that scared Halne and paralyzed any further attempts to get free. It was the not knowing. Not knowing whether Zale was alive. Not knowing if he was just left somewhere to die. Or worse, if he were somewhere close by, and Halne still could not get to him. Halne had always been fond of him, despite the circumstances of their history together. It was Zale. Profanity and teasing aside, he was her sire.
And she was in love with him.
Not knowing whether he would tease her again made her catch a breath in her throat that she no longer needed to take. Despite everything, and maybe even a little because of it, Halne was undone in the face of anything that involved him. She'd struggled with that fact for a long, long time, not even wanting to admit it to herself.
It was in coming to Scarlet Oak that she'd felt it more strongly. Like the way the moon pulls at the ocean tides. Sickeningly inevitable and unfailing.
In the face of his supposed final death, Halne was shocked numb. She curled herself into the fetal position, her upset far beyond tears. She felt raw all over, like someone had torn her flesh with a holy weapon. But this was a wound that was unseen.
And one that would go unhealed should Zale be proven dead.
Tumultuous thoughts crashed in her mind, over and again. Was he alive? Was he dying as she lay there? Did he need her help? Could she get to him in time? The panic beat against her like a frightened bird, all talons and pinions, slashing against her sanity.
In a cold voice that was not her own, Halne made a promise to the air, and to her crazed enemy. "If you have killed him, I will hunt you. I will bring every Ophanim down upon you. We will find you. We will trap you. And we will kill you."
The cold rage and panic took its toll as she felt the energy leaking out of her like a broken glass. Gratefully, Halne slipped back into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.