C u r s e - Human Version Teaser (DRAFT #1)
Nov 6, 2016 20:37:45 GMT -5
phantomstar57, ⁻ ⁻ ☾ ᵇˡᵘᵉ ᵐᵒᵒᶰ, and 3 more like this
Post by » ѕнαdσω ⚔️ on Nov 6, 2016 20:37:45 GMT -5
Hey guys! I promised to show y'all a teaser for my Nano project which turns out to be a humanized Curse novel. This is a new prologue I'm messing around with. As a forewarning; this is a draft. This is not my polished, fully blown up work. This is just me writing down what is inside my head. Not going to lie, it's like listening to someone scratch at a chalkboard when I read this, but I know it's good enough for a teaser.
This scene has not yet appeared in Curse (the fan-fiction version) but it's not really spoilers. We all know Snow and Shadowface have to face each other eventually.
This is PG - 13. Nothing here should be "inappropriate" for my readers. Honestly this is quite tame compared to some of the scenes in Curse. :'P
Wind howled through the tight, confined space of a leather tent, drowning out the sounds of a struggle. Two warmly dressed men in furs, leather, and skim, dull iron armor dragged a woman by her upper arms from the shelter and out into the storm. The woman was bound by her legs and wrists in a thick green vine that grew from her legs and arms and met in the middle at her waist, completely constricted by its tendrils. A cloth was also thrown over her head so that she could not see, but this did not dampen her resolve as she wriggled in her confinements.
Grunting and screaming, the woman was dragged from the tent that had held her for the past seven days and into a larger, more concrete abode.
This tent was much larger than the others clustered in the ravine up against the mountain side. It was made out of the practical animal leather, but also had layers of branches leaning up against the outside wall, adding the appearance of a wooden hut.
The woman could feel the sudden heat of the inside of the structure as she passed through the entrance. The smell of burning ashes wafted into her covered nose, and she could even detect the slight aroma of strong herbal medicines.
She was roughly set down and forced to her knees. She shook off the hands of her guards from her shoulders, hating the feeling of their rough hands on her.
Then, the cloth was ripped from her eyes, and she could see why they had taken such precautions in her transportation to this location.
Directly in front of her, sitting upon a carved wooden seat covered in luxurious furs, was the person who had led her to this predicament.
Snow, leader of the un-pledged rebels.
Long white hair cascaded down her shoulders and over her chest. Woven into her hair was circular pieces of copper, each with a spike protruding from the side. Her clothing was just as eye-catching. She wore a leather corset around her waist with copper plaiting outlining the top and middle sections. Her belt was leather as well and outlined in copper metal with a thick cut out of grey wolf fur hanging from the center. Her armor descended on either side in a box pattern over her pants. Up on her right shoulder, she had layered leather, while on her right she had more wolfs fur.
Leather wasn’t a very reliable form of protection, especially not for a rebel chieftain. Yet, she wore it with confidence. She was not concerned in the slightest about being killed. Either she was a fool, or a skilled fool.
Snow snapped her fingers at the two men. “Make her more comfortable,” she ordered.
The two men warily came toward the woman again, removing a few of the vines around her midsection, shoulders, and upper legs, leaving her hands, wrists, and ankles bound to the bizarre plant. They also carefully removed the cloth tied between her lips. Her teeth had been clamping down on it for over an hour now. It was a relief for the woman to finally be able to move her tongue over her cracked lips.
Snow waved her hand back, letting the men take watch beside the exit.
The woman was not to leave until Snow let her.
“Ah, finally, we can talk at last,” Snow said to the woman, leaning back into her chair, her chin resting in her hand.
The woman licked her lips again, her eyes assessing the rebel leader’s quarters, then returning her gaze to Snow’s exposed appearance.
“You could have come to see me any time you wanted, Snow,” she rasped.
Snow laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Yes, perhaps I could have. But my advisers were concerned with my safety. Apparently you made quite an entrance.”
The woman smirked, but the amusement did not reach her eyes. She let her head fall forward, her black hair falling over the right side of her face. “I apologize for any trouble I might have caused.”
Snow sniffed, the light in her pupils dimming. “I know why you did it. I annihilated your clan and you wanted revenge,” she said simply.
The woman’s hands tightened in their constraints. “You slaughtered them,” she spat, still looking at the ground.
Snow rolled her shoulders, a cold smile spreading over her features. “Yes, but that is not why I wanted to see you, and I think you know that as well.”
The woman lifted her head, her midnight hair sliding back in place over her shoulders. “I’m not sure I do,” she said quietly.
Snow chuckled, then released a simple iron dagger from her belt, standing and slowly walking towards the kneeling woman. “I brought you here so that I can find out what you are…and what makes you so…unique,” she explained, her gaze locked onto the woman’s fiery eyes.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, and then the two men were holding her again, hands braced on her shoulders and arms, holding her in place.
“What are you doing?” The woman demanded, attempting to break free even though she knew it was useless.
Snow brought the dagger forward and aimed it at the woman’s stomach.
“Remove her cloak.”
The men unclasped the black furred cloak from around her shoulders, then tossed it to Snow where she caught it, and held the clasping mechanism up to her face.
“This clasp…,” she murmured, tracing a finger over the polished steel with an engraving of an eye surrounded in flames, “what does it mean?”
The woman did not reply. Her nostrils flared slightly, her chest rising and falling beneath her armor which was comprised with a mix of leather and iron.
Snow tossed the cloak aside, then nodded to one of the men. “Untie her corset.”
Before fingers could even begin undoing the leather ties and straps, the woman was leaning backwards, purposefully falling onto her back and somehow finding the momentum to kick her legs out and up, striking the ends of her leather boots into the sensitive area between the man’s legs.
He grunted harshly, then staggered a few steps back, clutching his lower stomach which had been the only place iron was not protecting him.
The other guard was on her in an instant, forcing her legs back into submission and quickly got the patterned corset off of her, leaving her in a long sleeved grey shirt.
Snow watched the whole ordeal with amusement, her arms crossed and the cold steel of her blade resting comfortably against her arm.
“Thank you, Daren,” Snow said to the man who had gotten the armor off.
The woman spat at Snow’s feet, and Snow only smiled wider in response.
“Much better, now I can see the warrior that lies underneath its mask,” she nearly purred, bringing her fingers up to stroke her blade.
“You seem to like your blade?” The woman taunted.
Snow nodded. “Was it a blade like this one that took your right eye?”
The woman’s lips twitched, but she gave no answer to the origin of the deep scar that ran over her right eye. The eye itself was intact, but she would forever bear the scar on her face. A reminder of a past she could never change.
Snow leaned in close to examine the scar.
“You had to have lost the eye. The scar is much too gruesome for there not to be any damage at all,” she mused, placing her finger on the woman’s warm cheek where the end of the scar was.
“I was lucky,” the woman said stiffly.
“Or you healed very well,” Snow responded, taking her hand away and placing it on her hip, the dagger in her other hand spinning absently in the air. She then walked around the woman, stopping behind her. She gently grabbed a handful of the woman’s thick, wavy black hair, twirling her finger around a lone curl.
“Such beautiful hair. All the woman in your family had it, didn’t they?”
The woman shut her eyes and didn’t reply.
Without warning, Snow sliced her dagger through the back of the woman’s shirt, exposing her bare back to her.
The woman gasped, shivering at the air that now brushed her exposed skin.
Snow touched an area on the woman’s spine that stood out. A part of the spinal column slightly stuck out, a bump in the smooth core of bone. The alignment of the spine itself was also slightly curved where the bump protruded.
“No one in the valley comes back from a spinal injury. Not even prestigious warriors such as yourself with access to herbal specialists,” Snow snapped, her eyes full of curiosity and wonder.
When the woman didn’t reply, Snow reached over the woman’s shoulder and lifted the front of her shirt up to expose her stomach which was devastated by stretch marks.
“And yet, you still have the scars of childbirth. Wouldn’t these special healing powers you possess be enough to rid yourself of such pesky marks?”
The woman jerked away from Snow, curling around her knees.
“I was lucky. That’s it,” she protested.
Snow walked back around to stare down at the crumpled woman whose shirt was torn and whose eyes betrayed her words.
“Look at me.”
The woman did not lift her head from her knees.
Snow narrowed her eyes. “Look at me, Itzala.”
Itzala’s head shot up, her fiery evergreen eyes glowing brightly in the dim light of the tent only being lit by the two small fires on each side, casting long shadows against the walls.
Snow’s sparkling silver eyes lit up with anticipation. “Hair as black as the wolves of the Enchanted Pass…eyes as green as the pines on the mountain slopes. Irises filled with a bewitching fire that ensnares men caught in their gaze. You are a Blackmore for sure. Itzala Blackmore, daughter of the late Blackmore chieftain, Malar.”
Itzala Blackmore strained against the vines around her wrists, tugging and pulling and struggling with all her might.
Snow shook her head in false pity. “You can’t break free of my grasp. I specifically chose those vines for their unique qualities. Can you feel them feeding on your power?”
Itzala shook her hair from her face, her expression twisted in pure rage. “You will regret shackling me!” She shouted. Then steam began to erupt from around her wrists and ankles, and she fell forwards, burying her head into the floor as she began panting and grunting, sounds of distress echoing in the small space.
Snow kissed her blade and placed it back in its holster on her belt. She then turned and walked back to her chair, quietly chuckling to herself. “I think you will regret defying my power over your kind. After all, I am the one who holds your daughters.”
Itzala choked, raising herself back up. “You…you have them?”
Snow nodded, giving her men permission to take Itzala back to her prison.
“No! Wait, stop, please! Tell me, are they alive?”
Itzala tried once again to break free of the vines, but they only grew thicker and stronger the more steam came rolling off her skin. She didn’t even notice the men picking her up by her arms and forcibly dragging her away from Snow.
“Snow!” She screeched, desperate to hear an answer as she struggled to free herself and strangle the rebel chieftain, “Are my daughters alive?”
Snow smiled cruelly, leaning back into her chair, the copper pieces in her hair glinting like tiny flames.
“One lives…but the other…she is only as alive as you are.”
Itzala went cold, the fire in her eyes dimming as all the fight went out of her system. Steam turned to tiny droplets of moisture, and the vines shriveled against her skin.
Then, she whispered under her breath, “I was too late…”
