07-11-2016, 08:33 PM
Just a little squeeze on her index finger and the doubt he posed would be out of her life forever. She’d never have to answer to Nanaki, he was on the opposite side of the field, and he’d never even know the difference. The temptation leaked into her weighing expression, she made the mistake of waiting to choose. Life, death, or the pursuit of what she knew as complete bullshit? Her nerves actively traced the edge of a cliffside, “How do I know you’re not lying?”
Arrows whizzed past her, the sniper had forgotten she was standing in no man's land and leapt to tackle him, pinning him down below the ocean of grass with only her knee, he shouted, “My pocket, my left pocket! Reach in-”
Christa growled, shoved his face into the soil but reluctantly reached. Hidden within it were two ruby apples, not exactly something a cannibal would be carrying around, an evil witch on the other hand... “Tch. I don’t have the time to ask you stupid questions, you could be a plant, some kind of spy and you know what? I have shit I have to do-”
“Please... Oh dear God, please save me,” he pleaded with the merciless woman, who perhaps, had tasted too much blood, “I don’t belong here, not with these monsters. Your friend, he was driven back into the woods, that’s where the camp is... I could take you there.”
Christa had seconds to decide, the last of her smoke-shaded cover was drifting away in the breeze. Looking up at her, though he was struggling little, were a pair of eyes that knew pain. The inhumanity of it sunk in. Damn. Killing someone like him would be just too damn pathetic, freeing him, the equivalent. “Fine, but put your two hands together.”
Of course, there was no rope, but these seven foot tall pieces of grass were quite starchy, and the chained cannibal wouldn’t know the difference. “There’s a place just that way, none of them will go near it, there’s a cat totem making it sacred land,” the speaker blathered on.
“Looks like you’re right,” she agreed, there was no tribal smoke, nor trace of indian footprints. Her smoke grenade had fizzled out and they were safely behind the tree line, narrowly avoiding a few arrows that chased behind them with Thwack! as they crashed into the crackling bark. As they plunged deeper into the forest, smoke began to billow up and licked the darkling sky with wisps of flame. Worse yet, they were going toward it.
“Keee basa! Keee basa!!!” mixed in with the panicked gibberish were the hurried scuffling sounds of the murderers feverishly attempting to rescue their flaming camp. Shrouded in shadow, Christa gasped as she saw where they had laid Red before the fire had steamrolled through. His limp form lay on the tall stone altar, waiting to be slaughtered by the butchers, soon to be sacrificed to their broken notion of god. And he wasn't moving.
Fear stiffened the blood lining her bones, “That’s your friend, isn’t it?” the man spoke, gazing into the infinite layers of fire, "These people, they worship cats. Guess yours wasn't so lucky.”
“He’s not dead." Of course he wasn't, he couldn't be, "And I will not leave him. Help me, I can't carry him alone,” as though her prisoner had needed extra incentive, she held up the knife in her hand as though deciding where would be the most painful way for him to die. Then, she slit the bindings on his wrists. The speaker dashed forward outright, eager to get away, while the exotic patterns on his face blazed in the lively fire. Christa quickly followed, dodging a few of the cavemen and lips of flame along the way. Acrid fumes had disoriented the village, blending into the fragrance of baking flesh and pungent disease that hung in the air.
It all happened in a blur. Climbing the last step, the speaker's eyes fixed on something over her shoulder. “Kee baaa shi!!!” the tusk of an elephant had been sharpened to perfection and arched downwards, its path clear and unheeded. It would’ve hit, too, had the speaker not done some quick thinking and grabbed a stone bowl–still full of blood–and used it as a shield over her head. While the thick ichor drooled on her, it was better than accepting a meaningless death. Her eyes flashed a thank you while she kicked the ivory-wielder down the stairs and into the hellfire. Together they dragged him using the corners of the blanket below him, it would have to double as a makeshift stretcher.
They escaped just in time, lighting their path through the darkness of night was the red inferno as it devoured the last of their homes into dust.
Arrows whizzed past her, the sniper had forgotten she was standing in no man's land and leapt to tackle him, pinning him down below the ocean of grass with only her knee, he shouted, “My pocket, my left pocket! Reach in-”
Christa growled, shoved his face into the soil but reluctantly reached. Hidden within it were two ruby apples, not exactly something a cannibal would be carrying around, an evil witch on the other hand... “Tch. I don’t have the time to ask you stupid questions, you could be a plant, some kind of spy and you know what? I have shit I have to do-”
“Please... Oh dear God, please save me,” he pleaded with the merciless woman, who perhaps, had tasted too much blood, “I don’t belong here, not with these monsters. Your friend, he was driven back into the woods, that’s where the camp is... I could take you there.”
Christa had seconds to decide, the last of her smoke-shaded cover was drifting away in the breeze. Looking up at her, though he was struggling little, were a pair of eyes that knew pain. The inhumanity of it sunk in. Damn. Killing someone like him would be just too damn pathetic, freeing him, the equivalent. “Fine, but put your two hands together.”
Of course, there was no rope, but these seven foot tall pieces of grass were quite starchy, and the chained cannibal wouldn’t know the difference. “There’s a place just that way, none of them will go near it, there’s a cat totem making it sacred land,” the speaker blathered on.
“Looks like you’re right,” she agreed, there was no tribal smoke, nor trace of indian footprints. Her smoke grenade had fizzled out and they were safely behind the tree line, narrowly avoiding a few arrows that chased behind them with Thwack! as they crashed into the crackling bark. As they plunged deeper into the forest, smoke began to billow up and licked the darkling sky with wisps of flame. Worse yet, they were going toward it.
“Keee basa! Keee basa!!!” mixed in with the panicked gibberish were the hurried scuffling sounds of the murderers feverishly attempting to rescue their flaming camp. Shrouded in shadow, Christa gasped as she saw where they had laid Red before the fire had steamrolled through. His limp form lay on the tall stone altar, waiting to be slaughtered by the butchers, soon to be sacrificed to their broken notion of god. And he wasn't moving.
Fear stiffened the blood lining her bones, “That’s your friend, isn’t it?” the man spoke, gazing into the infinite layers of fire, "These people, they worship cats. Guess yours wasn't so lucky.”
“He’s not dead." Of course he wasn't, he couldn't be, "And I will not leave him. Help me, I can't carry him alone,” as though her prisoner had needed extra incentive, she held up the knife in her hand as though deciding where would be the most painful way for him to die. Then, she slit the bindings on his wrists. The speaker dashed forward outright, eager to get away, while the exotic patterns on his face blazed in the lively fire. Christa quickly followed, dodging a few of the cavemen and lips of flame along the way. Acrid fumes had disoriented the village, blending into the fragrance of baking flesh and pungent disease that hung in the air.
It all happened in a blur. Climbing the last step, the speaker's eyes fixed on something over her shoulder. “Kee baaa shi!!!” the tusk of an elephant had been sharpened to perfection and arched downwards, its path clear and unheeded. It would’ve hit, too, had the speaker not done some quick thinking and grabbed a stone bowl–still full of blood–and used it as a shield over her head. While the thick ichor drooled on her, it was better than accepting a meaningless death. Her eyes flashed a thank you while she kicked the ivory-wielder down the stairs and into the hellfire. Together they dragged him using the corners of the blanket below him, it would have to double as a makeshift stretcher.
They escaped just in time, lighting their path through the darkness of night was the red inferno as it devoured the last of their homes into dust.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus