Marking a Thief (Zandelia)

by **Ana Sol Starris** on March 20th, 2013, 12:39 am

Continuation from Why?
Safe Haven Hostel

The thief had never experienced such a cruel beating before today, there had been times in Sunberth, of course, that she was caught but allowed to live with a fierce belting. Other times when Shroud had beaten her with the pommel of a dagger, but never explicitely brutally. There had even been harsh beatings in Zeltiva, harbored in the house she had never called truely home because of her father, because one of her older sisters had anger issues. Not like Ana could blame the young Liddy, her older sister had been the main object of their father's aggressions, had taken the brunt force of the violent waves of horror, and terror. Her mother came second, and then Ana, without ever touching the 2nd older sister the thief had.

Never had Ana experienced such extreme brutality, it made her sympathize with Liddy all the more.

For pitys sake, the monk that had apprehended her had been absolutely brutal to her; he dragged her by the collar of her shirt on the ground, clothes dishelved, both hair and face had been dusted with dirt, while underneath what clothing she still had clinging to her body was bruised head to toe- the outline of hands taking shape. One side of her face was swollen with a black eye, blood seemed to dribble out of her splitted lip, and Ana could feel some of her teeth towards the back rather loose- one was definitely missing. Spat out onto the street where she had been caught, and the thief could only hope it wouldn't be too obvious. Laying on top of her body were her arms, or rather- a broken forearm. The other arm was fine but the wrist was fractured.

She could feel the stone drag itself underneath her body, head tilted to the side as she focused on breathing in, and then out, always concentrating on living and not succumbing to the black that threatened her vision. Made her want to hurl, but there was nothing left to wretch out from her bowels but stomach acid, it had all released itself chimes after a singly devestating punch to her gut. Please... Please let this aid my goals, please.. please let this help Zandelia.. Let this not be in vain.. Let not my pain go to waste, please.. please.. She continued to chant inwardly with each breath, she groaned out, and shivered- hot tears plummeted themselves from her eyes as the monk did a particularly nasty movement with his hand that jerked her about.

Pet-a-ahh-petch... Her control shattered as she let out a broken sob, ceasing when the monk did another sharp movement and scolded her.

He pulled her in front, throwing her ungracefully to land on the ground with her arm and wrist underneath her body. It gave her reason to cry out, to schriek and then gasp as a sandaled foot came to rest on the back of her neck threateningly. Pain, there was so much of it that it became near blinding as her body quivered there on the ground, tears mixing with the dust, and muddying her already dirty face up. Monks from the East Quarter, and more specifically the monks that had been with her tormentor when she was caught at first framed the Hostel. Vysia was amongst them, her strict gaze staring hard at the thief, the foreigner she had taken in at the start of the season with her friends, Zandelia, and Ximal. Dissaproval, it was quite clear.

"This is an example of what happens to foreigners that break the laws of Nyka, our fair mother city" he gestured to Ana whom was underneath his foot, at his mercy "..let this be a warning to all of you that find themselves under the same path as this mind addled, thieving whore" he pressed harder on her neck, causing Ana to writh in pain. The malice snarled in his voice, nothing but a thug in robes as he awaited for the hot iron to be brought to him. All intents and purposes to brand the thief he had caught in broad daylight, in front of many witnesses.

by **Zandelia** on March 20th, 2013, 9:33 pm

The morning, for once, had been spent in nothing more than a tender embrace with her returned lover – something she could still barely believe despite the time passed. Usually she would be out in the streets by now, her tongue and her fists earning her the secret reputation she was hoping would be upon the tongues of those in power soon enough. Oh, she was not so vain as to imagine that those at the highest ranks would know of her, but those of the more thuggish and lower variety was a possibility she couldn’t ignore. Many philosophers had stated in book she had read that one should remain secret – she preferred a different idiom, it worked better for recent times.

It’s a lot more preferable for them to all know just exactly what I can do, even if it’s not the extent of my ability. Always nice to keep something reserved for a surprise if needed she mused as she slipped out from underneath Revy’s muscular arms and shivered at the air caressing her nude form.

As she donned her cotton clothing – trousers blouse and corset – she reasoned that it would only be a matter of time before she would have been found out at any rate. Nyka loathed foreigners, so to her it seemed perfectly logical to play them at their own game. To lure them in with the possibility she was any different from what they considered the rabble, to talk to them cajolingly about what she could do for them – to them. To be open was to play a hand that was perhaps unknown to them, not a beggar but someone from abroad actually willing to help them. So far it had worked relatively well with a few well-timed nudges from herself.

“To be noticed is dangerous, but to be ignored…that cannot stand” she muttered as she donned her studded leather armor, the gauntlets and various weapons following the attire. She kissed Revy upon the brow once she was fully ready and slipped out of her door, closing it softly – she knew hoe much her lover needed her sleep, she had had precious little of it before laying in her bed and was still catching up on seasons worth of insomnia.

Descending the stairs she checked herself – today would be one of action, not of melding into the crowd, She had donned her attire of battle as a battle is what she foresaw – though not physically. Still, it helped to back up her blackmail with the threat of possible death. Satisfied she reached the bottom and made her way to the door. Today was going to be a…disaster! The first thing she experienced was shock, rippling to her core, as the scene unfolded before her. Neilles, broken and upon the ground squirming under the boot of one of the Monks from the Eastern Quarter. After shock ame anger – they dared to do this to her friend! Even though Neilels had done harm to her she could not help but wish to intervene. Thankfully Vysia caught sight of her first, ZAndelia’s shocked state buying precious moments.

“Amelias!” she hissed at her, taking her concentration away from Neilles, “do not be foolish! She has broken the laws of Nyka!”

“What laws?”

“Thievery. Not the worst but..enough. She is to branded”

“You cannot let them do this Vysia! She has helped me protect this place! Your home!” she whispered back, voice growing turgid with wrath.

“I have no choice! You think I like this?”

Zandelia walked past her, unheeding of her words. Wrath was her all, though none assembled but Vysia and Neilels would be able to read it – she was a cunning killer.

“AMELIAS!” Vysia shouted at her, halting her in her tracks.

“What did you say Vysia? Amelias?” the Monk crushing Neilles under his sandal smiled, a treasure delivered to him, “yes…I have heard of this Amalias. She has helped the Monks, yes?” he asked Vysia, gaze hard and penetrating.

“After a fashion, but..” Vysia was cut off.

“Then ler her prove her loyalty to use then! Brand!” the order was venomous, scathing as he was handed the heated iron and passed the handle to Zandelia, “brand her Amelias. The Monks…are watching”

What? No…nononono! No..I can’t Not this! Not here! her min rebelled at the thought, her face trying not betray the inner-turmoil. There was too much at stake.

“Amelias…” Vysia’s cold, stern voice whispered towards her, a snake in the grass of hope.

by **Ana Sol Starris** on March 20th, 2013, 11:34 pm

Ana lay there, the fight in her had died utterly with nothing more but sputtering embers to signal she was still there, kicking. She had to be truthful with herself, Ana didn't exactly know how this would help Zandelia at all- for all Ana knew, the entire plan could backfire right in her face. Just as it had in the streets, earlier when she had simply begun displacing items within the Flaxen District, picking at the denizens pockets for coin, and causing all around secret mayhem for the populace. When she had been caught first, she ended up stabbing a man- and gods, Ana could only hope he was still alive after that, that had been a plot point which backfired.

Then there was the being caught by Monks, part, she hadn't intended to be caught in the first place, or for all this to happen to her. Her intentions had been to raise the roof, cause some trouble, confess to Zandelia (if it would have been possible) and set up one last stand between the two of them. Or, if fate would have been kind enough, the rumors would have spread so quickly that a thief had been terrorizing the District, and such things would reach Zandelia's ears. Then the woman would know who had done it, and then would proceed to rat out Ana, and glorify herself but that all backfired on Ana. All of it. Instead she was being branded by monks.

Petch.. Shoulda waited and gained more skill.. She coughed into the ground unintelligbly, inhaling the dust into her lungs. Inspiring more coughing fits as she choked on both spittle and blood, she hacked, heaved, and then spat a wad of blood out onto the streets. With her head spinning she cracked open one good eye that was not swollen shut because of intense bruising, felt her world tilt and then whirl about. It was not as if she did not hear voices, or the call of a name being repeated- all sound was warbling within her ears. Deafened by the whoosh she could hear in her chest, the heart, her ears, the very life essense that kept the embers smouldering alive.

There was Zandelia standing nearby, staring at her, and then to the monks, the look on her face- Ana tried to make it out through the blur of her vision. She was stopped for a moment as the monk that had been on her neck before now pulled her up into a kneeling position without any regard to her broken bones, the empathy in the motions were apathetic, and nonexistant. Once upright, Ana stared at Zandelia dumbfoundedly, and then at the hot iron branding in her hands. Zand... The thought was brief as Ana's own demeanor hardened, and encased itself towards the unexpected results. The look on Zand's face was heartbreaking, Ana could see.

If it wouldn't have been for seasons of knowing the woman, Ana would have broken down into tears at such an act of total, and utter treason to eachother. Perhaps it was just another way to get back at Ana, instead of killing her? There her friend was- getting ready to brand her, monks all around, but at a single moment as one gold eye would meet one emerald eye a message was passed. Silently, without use of words, or gestures, nor any form of silent communication besides a simple gaze into eachothers souls. Ana knew what had to be done, knew that if Zandelia refused what was being put on her shoulders- they would both suffer for this.

Her eyes shut for a moment just to enjoy the cool blackness, and serenity lurking about her mind. It was painfully out of reach, so she tilted her head back to look upwards into the air, inhaling the sweetness that was life. Then her gaze traveled to scan the crowd which was forming, eyes cracking open briefly, before shutting once more- she would go through with this. It all came down to her... Her actions... She had started this mess, she would end it. Ana snapped, her eyes flying open as the fire rekindled itself into a blazing inferno of agression, hate, and sorrow- she ignored the pain which radiated from her body, and she took it, Ana took the pain and turned it around to put power into her voice.

"DO IT ALREADY YOU BLIND WHORE!" Ana schrieked out at Zandelia as loud as she could in utter frustration for her own helpless position. Mixed with anger, and lamentation, from her ragged throat as the monk would grip her hair and pulled her neck to the side- neckflesh being revealed, and to be promptly branded. Ana mustered a way to kneel forwards, to stand, she wanted to throw herself at Zandelia but the monk kept her in place from even moving "ohh, are you going to just let her say that Amelias?" The monk snickered as he looked to the woman, goading her on to get on with it and proove herself to the Monks of Nyka.

by **Zandelia** on March 21st, 2013, 10:40 pm

The world seemed to slow for her, her mind unable to fully comprehend what the universe was asking of her. The situation was too terrible, far too mind-numbingly horrific for her to even begin to process it. It was true that Neilles had been insulting, she had acted out of turn and descended into what approximated something akin to madness. What under the rays of Syna the small woman had decided to do now, why she had decided to do it – it was immaterial. At that moment the only thing that held any true substance for her was the lump of glowing iron that was pressed into her palm, cowled presences curling her fingers around it. She was leaden, her limbs felt heavy and her joints refused to react in their usually dexterous way.

This can’t be! Brand…Neilles?! For what, taking what others could afford to lose? Why...why ask this of me? her mind rattled at her, thoughts flashing through at a pace she wished she could replicate under normal, rational circumstances.

“You want me to…brand her? A foreigner? Me?” she asked, her tone of voice possessed of an stunned awe that could be forgivably heard as close to reverence.

“Yes, it is an honor no?” the Monk holding Neilles responded, voice and eyes growing flinty hard, “do it and prove yourself! Or suffer the same as she for your crime of association” the threat was well delivered, hammering home into her chest like a knife.

She felt her breathing accelerate, her ribs seeming to tighten as the full implication of what she was about to do – had to do – rushed through her. It felt like thousands of tiny blades ripping her insides to pieces, she hoped she would die of internal bleeding. She knew she wouldn’t though and that merely made it more abhorrent. She had been a slave, had suffered cruelty and abuse and to exact the same upon a woman she loved, loved like a sister….it was too much to take. She looked Neilles in the eye then and despite the understanding that passed between them she couldn’t help but feel her resolve waver, begin to unravel. She had achieved some pretty dastardly things in her life but…never this. If she hadn’t been close to being torn apart herself she would have broken into tears then and there – as it was her own survival instincts managed to dam that river.

"DO IT ALREADY YOU BLIND WHORE!"

Her mind latched on to Neilles’ words, treating them life a mental life raft. She could have kissed her then, made love to her in front of the whole damned city. Neilles had seen her strength begin to crumble and had saved her...again. She could never find a way to repay that kindness, a kindness she didn’t deserve in the least.

Oh Neilles....my beautiful, wonderful Neilles...how did it come to this?

“No!” she snapped at the Monk’s words, she was still near breaking point emotionally but she managed to force out the word with a strength she was not convinced she had within her, lashing it out like a barbed whip.

She walked towards Neilles, glowing mark tilted towards the ground, leaving a steaming trail of sparks as it scraped ominously against the ground below them both. She looked down upon her, one last and honest gaze shared in secret, and brought her left hand across – gauntleted hand slapping her across the cheek. She had pulled the strength of it, Neilles would hopefully realize that, had only inflicted enough to cause a further trickle of blood from the side of the woman’s lips. She quickly assessed her body for the points of most damage – she would never touch those. She jabbed the tip of her leather boot into Neilles’ ribs on her right side to cause her to crumple a little – again not enough for serious damage.

“You will never speak to me like that again you little bitch!" she hissed, with every words engraving something upon the tombstone of her morality.

She grabbed Neilles by the hair then, yanking her forwards a little as a startled yelp forced its way from the smaller woman’s lips. It forced the Monk to let go of her, a small look of irritation flashing across his face before enjoyment of the spectacle reasserted itself. The surrounding crowds may have been enjoying it, a chant beginning to emerge from the rabble of mouths. If this was to be done though, she would see it done with only Zandelia touching her – she could give her that much at least, that it was a moment between the pair of them. The sentiment, if it could be called that, made little sense – but then nothing made sense at that moment. She leaned down and spat in Neilles’ face, using the moment and the noise of the crowd to cover two, tiny words.

“I’m sorry” she whispered before pulling herself back up to her full height.

“Brand! Brand! Brand! Brand!” the chant was picking up now, the faces of the crowd becoming grotesqueries.

She lifted the brand high up in the air, playing to the crowd as she tried to drown out the death of her inner self. She looked down at Neilles after taking in the glowing tip of her given weapon. The last of her that was good and decent seemed to shrivel, rasping out its final death throes. She made it quick, turning the brand and shoving it downwards – plunging directly into the side of her ex-friend’s neck. The scream that ripped across her ears as, even with broken arms, Neilles tried to struggle and shove herself away, flayed her with wounds that would never heal.

“Again!” the crowd shouted, their lust for barbarism pummeling Zandelia’s psyche.

“Yes Amelias,” the Monk told her with a cruel twist of his mouth, “again…on the chest” he ordered before stepping forwards to rip Neilles’ clothing open further to expose her breasts – the memory of the tent invaded her and shattered her spirit further.

I have no choice she told herself…it was easier that way.

She thrust the brand forwards again, right into the center of Neilles chest, the smell of her searing flesh repugnant to her senses, overwhelming her. She threw the brand down then and stared the Monk in the eyes, her own dead and devoid of emotion. There was a silent battle of wills before he gave way – she wouldn’t do it again no matter what the repercussions – but the man was satisfied. He had had his moment of delicious sadism.

“Whaaaaaaa!” the cheers of the crowd buffeted her.

She couldn’t find enough in herself then to even feel disgusted. She was dead inside.

And I really deserve to be… the last of her conscience mocked her before that, too, was snuffed out.

She would never be the same again.

by **Ana Sol Starris** on June 1st, 2013, 7:35 pm

Ragged rasps of air escaped through her mouth like dieing wisps of her own willpower, a distinct burning sensation over took her body, shaking, from both the mental strain, and the pain in her arms, and all over her body. She should have been despairing over her situation, she should have been crying, she shouldn't have said what she said, she shouldn't have done all that she had- which lead up to this point. If there would have ever been a way to go back in time and stop the events that had transpired previously, that travelled to land the both of them in this situation, she would have grabbed for the chance and clung to it desperately. All that had happened was her fault, it was her problem with sleep, dreaming, her social awkwardness that pushed her in twenty different directions to be something she was not.

What was she anyways? She tried to ask herself;

There was no answer.

There was still strength in her eyes even if her body was exhausted, and unable to move past the weak struggling against the Monks hands. Ana watched Zandelia with a very sharp glare, willing the older woman to go through with this- do it you foolish woman... You and I both know this HAS to happen. The sounds of teeth gritting against eachother were drowned out by the growing hum of the accumulating crowd around the spectacle. Ana could have been compared to a cornered dog, bearing sharp fangs, hackles raised, and a shiver to her otherwise stilled body.

"No!" the exclamation from Zandelia made Ana falter, somewhat.

Stupid! Cold fear rushed to be next to her burning anger, a rather nice combo, given the circumstances, and the situation. Was Zandelia going to go against the will of the monks? That was a foolish thing to do, eyeing her soon to be subjugator, wondering what the woman was going to do, what she hoped to achieve...

Eyes drawn to the hot sparks flying from the ground, the acursed red white iron waiting to imprint itself onto her flesh. Ana could only wonder how it would feel, if perhaps Ximal had remained awake during such an event, at what age again? Gods, she couldn't remember... Couldn't bring herself to care at that exact moment. Dread came to rest on her shoulders, slowly crawling to push itself into her mouth, down her throat, and sit within her gut, poisoning her the nearer Zandelia got. Then she stopped in front of Ana, her eyes travelling from the iron to the emerald eye she knew so well, could feel her expression fall underneath the gaze, how Ana wanted to cry right then and there but was frozen... She couldn't do anything, helpless, and completely not in control of the situation right now. It was terrefying for her.

Blood pumped harder, faster, stronger, travelling around her system and much more defined. Swearing internally.

It stopped dead in her veins as a boot struck her side, froze her, and illiciting a pained gasp as heat flooded there as well, next to the myriad of pains all over her body. She hardly registered Zandelia's words as she would feel a sharp tug to her hair, strands being yanked out with the violent movement, all this movement, Ana tryed to supress a whimper. Eyes watering as she forced them to remain cracked open, she had to see everything that was happening, she would not allow herself to miss a single moment of this. She would memorize the conglomerized crowd's faces, she would take note of whom she had irked, the monk with the wicked stare and devious eyes. She wouldn't forget this, would ingrain it into her memory, and she would make it her personal mission to undermine every Monk present... Barring Vysia.

Disgusting spit hit Ana's face, and she heard the whisper, registered it, but couldn't fathom what was to come next. Staring up at Zandelia, Ana felt her heart sink and break, a regret spilling out for what she had done. This was completely her fault, she should have thought logically on how to go about this and she had not.

The brand rose itself and then burned her neck with a sudden swing of Zandelia's arm, Ana, despite her wrist broken, and small hands bruised, had attempted to push the hot metal away. It pushed her into the ground, huffing and puffing for air as her body began the long process of entering shock, the scent of char skin filling the air. Everything around her seemed to blur, and melt together becoming a painful world of color and shapeless figures, only coming back to clarity as another sudden and burning sensation spiked its way onto her chest, right in the middle, and just above her now unclad breasts. Feeling her body jolt at the intrusion of hot metal to soft flesh, she began to shake, spasm, and twitch, screaming in pain.

Screaming, until finally she would stop.. Her world had gone into the black world of comas, for what had seemed to be an eternal darkness afterwards.

by **Abstract** on June 28th, 2013, 12:36 pm

Loot, Lore, and Skills!

Ana :

Zandelia :

Interesting, and pretty freaky emotion-wise. I loved the way you wrote this Ana, and sort of the 'we have to do it' thing. A very good read

Please PM me if you have any questions, concerns, or comments!

by **Zandelia** on February 21st, 2014, 3:03 am

Zandelia threw down the brand as the inner self that she kept carefully sealed away from the world all but shattered, the pieces piercing her heart and causing what she was sure would be wounds that would lead to her death – yet after a few moments of deep breathing and silence she was still standing, still alive. Her face was impassive, her body locked into stillness as she gazed down upon the small form of Neilles and the realisation of what she had just done to her finally locked into her mind. It was a memory that she would relive in her deepest nightmares she was sure but, for now, her emotions merely flickered and died. They were replaced with a cold void where nothing lived, a barren wasteland.

I am sorry Neilles…so sorry she thought as the rest of her shut down with the shock. The silence continued until she became aware that the Monks were all looking to her now, watching and assessing.

“So much for thieves” she managed to breathe out with a surprisingly airy tone.

“Well done, few would take up the task of righteousness. This will be remembered” the leading Monk intoned solemnly with a bow of the head before they began to dissipate into the streets as if they had never been.

Ghosts…we are all but ghosts in the end came the words within the coldness of her mind.

She knelt down and picked the small, fragile and altogether too light form of Neilles from the floor and pushed herself up until she was upright and the girl was in her arms like a babe. The smell of seared flesh engulfed her and it was all she could do to stop herself from dropping the body and running for the rest of her life. She steeled herself and made her way to the hospital – she could not remember its name at that moment. The rest became a dream-like blur as she gave Neilles over for care silently, not bothering to explain and not able to do so even when asked. Blankly she left and headed for the Safe Haven Hostel – she had to get there before the Monks did. Neilles did not deserve her things stolen from her.

“Amelias!” Vysia all but shouted at her and she realised the female monk stood between Zandelia and the stairs.

“Vysia” she spoke coldly.

“I realize that you msut feel-“

“Don’t tell me how I feel Vysia, I don’t care. Get out of my way”

“No”

“Get ou-“

“No! Not until you give me your oath you won’t do anything stupid” Vysia hissed backa t her.

“Stupid?”

“Your friend was caught, punished. To seek vengeance would be foolish”

“I don’t ca-“

“Yes but I will not have my Hostel turned into a charnel house! Amelais!”

They stood in silence, neither one backing down until finally Zandelia’s gaze broke off to the side.

“Fine”

Without another word she pushed past Vysia and plodded up the stairs, the weight of her body seemed too much for the task. She made it to Neilles’ room and could see nothing of note beyond a small pack under the bed – she took it and dragged it open. It merely contained journals which she had not the heart to read at that moment. She shrugged and stowed it in her own room before collapsing onto the bed.

The world turned black as the tears finally came.

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