Thread: 〖 A U R O R A 〗 [Frost / Erebus]

Liath perked up, standing tall as Cyan called for her. Her pale lips curled downward in discontent at the raider's brutish nickname for her, though it was far more likely that the bluenette simply hadn't bothered to remember her name. That was fine with her. Liath hardly felt the need to correct the bandit leader, not that she had the nerve to the woman was terrifying even when subdued. Today had been no different, and it sounded like a particularly harsh session. Normally she would attempt to mute the sounds by simply ignoring them, bending over a ratty old book or rearranging her supplies. Sometimes it was difficult and she recalled the cries of anguish in her small cot. She nodded as Cyan brushed past smeared with blood she gathered her things and edged her way into the dingy cell where Ember was holed up. The woman had been beaten badly, that much she could see from the dim lighting though she was already well aware of it. The shaft of soft light gave away her features easily from where she was standing. Her eyes were colored silver, edged by silver-pink swirls woven through her irises. They resembled a pair of cut pearls, making her gaze seem oddly vacant and unnerving and framed with pale lashes. In fact, her entire, thin body could be considered pale. Her nape was where her own artificial brand was located a solid, notched circle of murky grey, it did not glow so much as it was a sickly black-white bio-luminescence which peaked out from beneath long, white hair. The oddity there was the black undertones streaking just beneath the white. Liath hid her brand by leaving her locks to free-fall down the length of her spine, past her shoulder blades yet not quite reaching her waist. Her body was normally fully covered to protect her fragile form from the changing temperatures, but also under the order of her current boss. She wore a traveler's garb, paired with sturdy boots and gloves. A thick cotton muffler wrapped around her neck and covered her chin while the hood attached to it was pulled over her head. She knew she was unnatural, even more so than the Auroras victims. Shed been taken from heaven knows where, an infant without a future and threaded with purpose. Or at least that was what she first thought. The by-product of a zealous experiment and impatient scientists, Liath was ever searching for the overarching reason for her existence. She had spent near fifteen years with the men in white coats, where the tail-end of that familiar life trickled away into one of neglect and behind-the-corridor whispering. With the power to suppress most brands, she was hoped to be used as an infiltrator a weapon in the shadows to render their opponents useless. But something had gone wrong during the sequence. She could not nullify so much as she could simply dampen the effects, and in their eyes, she was considered a failure a simple stepping stone to something much larger. Years of education, of nurture and training gone to waste Liath was cast to the wayside, quite literally with nothing but the clothes on her back. You should stop struggling so much. Liath said with a frown, setting aside her small crate of supplies to survey the damage. She'd done so many times before that the sight of blood and bruises and battered bodies didn't bother her in the slightest. Her gaze roved up then down in clinical silence, brushing a gloved thumb over her own cheek in apparent thought. The collar was a necessity to Cyan and one Liath wished she could remove. Her powers, mediocre as they were, would have been enough to stave off the fiery womans attitude. As it was, she knew that temper could not be controlled and a simple spark could set off a network of electricity. She started with some cotton swab and water, wiping away the drying blood dribbling down Embers wrist all the way down her arm before cleaning up other patches of tarnished skin. Only make it worse for yourself She muttered before discarding the stained squares and picking out some bandages and balm to begin the process anew. It sounded bad. She spoke up quietly as she worked diligently the comment sounded out of place and awkward even as her fingers worked deftly to smear the cooling ointment over her patient's abdomen. I mean, it sounded worse. It didnt sound pleasant. She padded each wound with cotton before wrapping bandages around them tightly. She knew that Cyan would remove them or simply allow them to fall off of their own accord. Further still, Liath had been ordered to remove bandages from the healing process from time to time. Whatever the reason, she would obey without question but considering Cyan hadnt said so in particular this time she supposed it would be alright. Once done, she looked over the woman once more, seemingly satisfied with her work and packing away her things in the little linen basket. She placed it to the side before turning her attention back on their unfortunate prisoner. It was this part she was most eager for. Tending to wounds was textbook, done with calculation and repetition. Liath highly preferred to talk when she could, about anything really. Truthfully, she hadn't been told that she wasn't allowed to talk to Ember, even though it was clear Cyan would have told her no. She felt oddly attracted to the girl, largely because once she'd had coaxed her out of her shell, she had many fascinating stories Liath loved to hear about. She even went so far as to place two fingers on the other's cheek or wrist to temper her brand and in turn, stave off the pain from the shock collar which was a barbaric instrument in and of itself. Ember should have been no different from the rest of those that Cyan brought in for her own personal entertainment. But she and Ember had a particularly... clashing relationship, and Liath had found herself tending to this woman a lot more than she would other poor victims. Either way, she supposed it worked out for the best though she didn't quite know where her curiosity would take her. I could try to talk her into getting you a new set of clothes if that would be preferable. Liath added, tugging on her scarf as if the personal pronoun flustered her.