The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows [Kiah]

[Trost]

[attr="class","w460"]

The air is heavy and the sky is turning a gorgeous navy and purple mix, interrupted by flashes of bright light. Directly above me is a cluster of stars and that's why I'm outside, playing chicken with the rain. It looks as if the stars are competing with the building storm, vying to take over the night sky as the superior natural phenomena. I don't think the stars are winning. As the minutes pass and the wind begins to stir the environment around me, I can see them slowly being enveloped by clouds thick with rain.

I let out a sigh, enjoying the scene unfolding before me. Not many things put me at ease. Training is purposeful. Eating is purposeful. Existing is purposeful. The stars are purposeful too in their own way but for us here on Earth? They're something nice to look at. The hard ground beneath my butt is becoming painful. I'll go in soon... Pa and I had gotten into it today. First time in a while actually. It's been a good week or two with his arthritis at bay but I knew it wouldn't last forever. Today, a mouse had scurried through the hallway and he had noticed it. He had turned to me, a devilish smile creeping up, and said, "Want to have some fun?" It had taken me aback. "No sir. I think I'm going for a run."

No, I did not want to have "some fun."

See, I'm conflicted. I daydream about hurting people. I like to think about what their screams will sound like, how their blood will pool as it leaves their body. My dreams are full of scenes of varying morbidity.

But those damn mice.

All I see are a thousand little cuts. Cuts strategically placed to not quite dissect limbs from torso. I don't necessarily feel bad for them - they're small pests, determined to eat our store of food. But... I could never wrap my head around it. They know nothing of the grander world. They have no concept of tradition, history, familial ties, none of it. They're innocent and I don't see how somebody so much larger could get satisfaction hurting such a being.

I rise to my feet, shaking off the feelings. I love my Pa. The mice were lessons, lessons to not let ourselves feel so much lest we end up in a situation like this.

It's time to run.

I take off, slow at first, and ramp my way up. My feet connect solidly with the ground each step. I appreciate the feedback; tripping isn't any fun. I focus on my breathing, powering through the humidity. Buildings shrouded in the cover of night fly by me as I carry on. There's no route in mind tonight, just the looming pressure of lights out and the incoming storm.

I've only seen a few people out. Some are watching the storm form, others are finishing up last-minute duties before they retreat home for rest. Nobody pays me any attention. Well, a gaggle of young girls catch a glimpse of me and they're giggling and softly cheering as I pass by. It's not sarcastic - I think they thought I was cute.

I can feel the lactic acid building up in my muscles. Just a few more steps... No. I cannot. I stop and lift my arms above my head, trying to inhale all the oxygen around me. There's a loud boom in the sky. It doesn't scare me but I take a moment to assess my surroundings.

There, over by the closed shop. There's a shadowy figure and they're... I can't tell. The first few drops of rain begin to fall, trickling down my hair onto my nose. I take a step forward but my brain starts screaming at me - Stupid! You know nothing of the situation! What if it's somebody bad? What if they've got a weapon? What if they're waiting for some idiot like you to be nosy?

Too late. My feet are already carrying me towards the dark shop and the shadowy figure.

[k!ah]

OCTAVIA HAMMERFELL

🔪

"You don't have to do this." The man is on his knees, grovelling, as she prowled closer, her fingers clasped loosely around the hilt of a rusty knife. "I'll give you anything- tell you anything," he begged, tears and snot mingling, as his body shook with fear. "Pl-please. Please I-I have a family." To most people, his desperate pleas would have been a useful deterrent. The mentioning of his family a smart way to hook into a persons humanity.

But Octavia Hammerfell was not most people. And his pleas caressed her skin, making it buzz with excitement. She wanted more. Needed more.

Another step, her fingers artfully flicking the knife between her fingers. "Please, do tell me more," she purrs crouching down so that she was eye level with him. "Do you have kids? A loving, adoring wife? Or husband, perhaps?" She stops playing with the knife, holding it between two hands as her eyes examine his body. She notes the way his skin pales, the way his lips pull back into a whimper. The expansion of pupils. Fear could do many things to a person, she wonders how much she could push him. What buttons she might need to press in order for the full force of his terror to be released.

He tries to move away from her, but he is cornered, his back pressed against a wall, his feet furiously kicking out into the empty air in front of him. Octavia laughs, standing up straight as she closes the distance between them. She tucks the knife into the belt of her pants before her hands wrap around the collar of his shirt. The material was soaked with his sweat as she tries to push back the repulse that builds in the pit of her stomach. Disgusting.

"Please! Please!" he starts again, his body shaking as it is pressed against her own. A wicked smile begins to pull back the corner of her lips as she pressed him hard against the wall.

"Tell me," she whispers into his ear.

"I-I have a wife. Two sons. They are my world-"

She could already taste victory, and it tasted sweet. Her body buzzed with anticipation of the pain that would be caused, not just inflicted on him, but on his family. She felt her fingers twitch with the desire to have the hilt of her knife pressed against her palm. The urge to draw it across his throat surged through her. The desire to witness the blood cascade down his front, dying his shirt blood red. To watch as it puddled at his feet, his body collapsing in on itself. She wanted to watch as the light died from his eyes, as Deaths tight grip took hold of him and carried him away, for eternity.

Fingers dart for the knife, but stop short, a disturbance behind her causing her to freeze. Eyes narrow as she slightly turns her head to see a boy behind her, gasping for breath. She clicks her tongue, her eyes darting back to the mess before her, the longing desire to finish him off pulses through her. Maybe she could do it. She had already tasted it, victory hooking her in, tempting her. Maybe she could take out both of them. She had trained her whole life for this, she was lethal. Everything about her was dangerous. She wanted to do it, to test herself.

Biting her lips she pressed her forearm into the mans throat, pushing the weight of her body against it. She watched as his fingers scratched against her arm, desperate, as she crushed his windpipe. Cutting off his source of oxygen. She wanted to watch him squirm but she turned her eyes to the boy, her lips pulled back into a twisted smile.

"Can I help you with something?" She asks sweetly, digging her arm in a little deeper.

[Trost]

crius.

Wish I was much more masculine
Maybe then I could learn to swim
Like (fourteen miles away)

As I step closer, ignoring the voice inside my head, I can make the situation out more clearly. There's a man, sniveling and pale, and a woman. She has her arm against the man's neck and her muscles are bulging. I see something on her hip and intuition tells me it's nothing good.

I stop in my tracks.

There's no blood yet. At least from what I can see. Part of me is upset. Too bad he isn't already bloody and bruised. For one, that would have been an interesting sight. Two, if I turn a blind eye to escape and he somehow also escapes, he might recognize me later and enact revenge.

The woman smiles and it sends a chill down my spine. You can't help how your body is designed to react - only how you respond to the reaction. I'm standing rigid as she says in a sickly sweet voice, "Can I help you with something?"

I only have a moment to react. I don't know what to do. Every option I think of seems worse than the last. I can tell she's more powerful than me, maybe even faster. I've fought opponents larger than me before and I'm not scared of a beating but... Fuck. Even I have my limits.

The confidence I normally feel has evaporated, unlike the sweat covering my back. It's starting to rain now too. I need to make a decision.

I like to think I'm an honest guy but sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do to protect yourself.

"N-no. Just thought you'd like to know there's a Peacekeeper making his rounds and he's bound to be here any moment." I'm bluffing. I bet she sees right through it. "He doesn't look too happy to see you."

I don't turn to leave. I know I didn't sound convincing and she exudes the energy of a predatory animal. And what do predatory animals do? They chase their prey. I'm familiar with the area but the building storm does me no favors.

I'm staring at her belt. I think it's a knife. There's a knot in my stomach as I await her response.

I don't want to die yet. I've got too much I want to do. And I don't particularly want my face scalped. Pa wouldn't be happy with me, defending a man who should have been able to defend himself.

I feel like a mouse.

[k!ah]

OCTAVIA HAMMERFELL

🔪

The question sits in the air no longer than a few heartbeats. "N-no," he stutters, his obvious nerves shinning through, causing her brows to lift ever so slight. "Just thought you'd like to know there's a Peacekeeper making his rounds and he's bound to be here any moment." She almost chuckles at the lie, her lips pulling back into a wicked grin as she pushes her elbow in that bit deeper, the man caught between herself and the wall squirming, his fingers more desperate, scratching into the flesh of her arm.

Octavia knew these street like the back of her hand. She knew the peacekeepers rosters. Their routine patrols. And she knew for sure that none would be looking her way tonight. She had called in an emergency earlier, bluffing about a vicious stabbing on the other side of the district. Most of the peacekeepers would be preoccupied tonight, attending an incident that did not exist. "He doesn't look too happy to see you."

Did anyone? Octavia oozed danger, people around her tending to avoid her. Only those who she thought of as family often greeted her with a grin and a playful scuffle in the dirt as greeting. Eyes darting back to the Kan against the wall she quickly relates her hold, shoving him to the ground before kicking him in the gut. His breath is expelled as he grunts in pain, his body folding in on himself as he fights to breathe. "Not happy to see me? That would make," she pretends to count the figures on her finger. She lifts one, for the 'peacekeeper'. Another for the man on the ground. A third for the boy who stood nervously before her. "Three people who don't seem all that pleased to see me."

She notes the way his eyes dart to her belt, the way he he tenses. The way the colour of his skin seems to fade ever so slightly. Each factor excites her, washing over her skin like the morning rays of the sun, bathing her in a delightful warmth. Temporarily forgetting the withering figure behind her she stalks closer to the boy, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. "You look scared. Are you scared? Do I make you uncomfortable?" The words escape as a purr, as she circles around him.

"Should we kill him?" She asks sweetly, pulling out her knife coming to a halt behind the boy. "Look at him, he's pathetic. Weak." The mans eyes widen at the words, his lungs finally starting to regain their use. "I would be easy.

Have you killed before?"