Red River || OPEN || Jun 17, 2014 23:53:07 GMT -4
Post by Eden Iesabel Jensen on Jun 17, 2014 23:53:07 GMT -4
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[attr="class","eName"]Eden Iesabel Jensen
[attr="class","eLines"]Pride is the master sin of the devil
[attr="class","eLines"]and the devil is the father of lies.
[attr="class","eIText"]The wall mural climbed its way around the room, slithering around furniture bolted to the floor and right past the tall Overmind of Pride standing in the middle of the cramped space. Eden's golden-blue eyes followed the sprawling drawing, a montage of twisted images, what she envisioned must have been the hallucinations of a diseased mind near its end.
The room she'd found was a vault-like space. Its heavy door stood ajar with its little peep-window. This particular wing of the penitentiary was of great interest to her. She had never before noticed a fact she already ought to have: great mortal peril bred genius.
But Eden wasn't here just for the view. As much as she enjoyed dinghy hallways and claustrophobic spaces that felt too low for her lofty height, she occasionally did have a purpose. She turned her gaze off the walls and back to her feet, shod in gladiator sandals two inches from a puddle of crimson
A girl, maybe only eighteen or so, barely out of high school, lay crumpled nearby, her vacant eyes looking up into Eden's face with no recognition. Her stiff face was frozen in an expression of shock, as if she hadn't even had time to fear what had chased her here.
When Eden had first stepped in and kneeled down by her, mindful of the knee-length hem of her flowing, purple dress, the girl had been dying. Her eyes sought out the Overmind's, but before she found confirm what Eden already knew, she'd succumbed.
She had been Eden's acquaintance for a while, more specifically, a slave-to-be in the amiable way Eden usually tended to lure them in, all promises and smiles of safety – promises she always intended to keep. The girl was sent out beyond the walls of Eden's hide-out in Fort York on a short errand. She had never returned. When Eden went to find her, she saw the girl rush into the penitentiary nearby, chased by a man she couldn't identify from the back.
Eden was sure he was still here somewhere. That was fine, she thought, rising to her feet. She reached up, twisting her long brown hair up into a bun and stabbing the pencil tucked over her ear through it rather viciously. She'd find the fucker. And she would repay the favour.
Anger was a strange, unwelcome feeling. It made her act irrationally, which never ended well. Yet there were a few things that triggered her temper, dormant though it might usually have been. A strike to her pride was one thing, a strike at something she considered hers a whole other shitstorm. She had spent days getting the girl to trust her, to befriend her. Eden wasn't one to take by force what she could get by alliance. Now, some douchebag high off bloodlust had ruined it in one fell swoop of his no-doubt football-sized fist.
And, childish though it may have been, she had fucking dibs on this human. Nobody else should have gotten to decide what to do with the girl.
Maybe he had left. She hadn't heard a shuffle since she'd entered the place. He had worked efficiently, which made her decide it was likely an Overmind or a rarely cautious Reaver. Taking a deep breath, Eden moved through the empty hallways, listening.
Nothing. A spike of hot anger shot through her, and she forced it down. What was the fucking point? Getting pissed would get her nothing but a raging headache and bruised knuckles. He was likely gone.
She turned to head back toward the vault-like chamber. At the very least, she could see about moving the body – no Lesser was getting a free meal today.
She forced herself to slow down every now and again as she walked, and examined the various scratches on the walls in pencil. pen, crayons (seriously?) and some unidentifiable thing she thought was maybe dried blood and candlewax.
Intrigued, she stopped, temporarily ignoring the lashes of her Sin in her mind. Entering the jail cell, Eden paused in the door, her eyes taking in the dusty bed before returning immediately to the red writing on the wall.
Food/med plz at...
The rest of the pleading message had run. Perhaps the summer heat and stifling, closed room had caused the blood to thin again. She didn't care to examine that. Either it was a genuine plea, or a trap for a naive, desperate human seeking aid.
Wouldn't that be amusing?
Inspired, Eden withdrew a marker from the messenger bag she carried everywhere, not so coincidentally red. Crouching, she added on to the message:
LOCATION CHANGED. MEET @ room 201 at 2300.
Then she stood, capping the marker, and stepped out of the room.
[attr="class","eTags"]TAG: OPEN TO ONE.
[attr="class","eTags"]NOTES: any race welcome.
[attr="class","eLines"]The pride of your heart has deceived you. – Obadiah 1:3
[attr="class","scredit"]skye at caution 2.0