Thread: Lost and found (Tristeza and  Lanolyt)

Dreams. She had once wondered. Mommy, do demons dream? Of course, my dear. But aren't they evil? I thought evil people couldn't dream! Oh, my silly little child, of course they can. Not all demons are evil, you know? Just like not all angels are good. No, like you said, they are people. And people can be both good and bad, regardless of what they appear to be. Wooooooooow... The bliss of the dream back in the past faded as the grim tang of reality called her back to the world of the living. Of pain. But, first and foremost, of a foreign face. His words, albeit kind, fell on deaf, panicked ears. Had he stood closer to her, his thoughts might have become real, as it had for a cruel henchman not too long ago. One that now lay dead on the cold floor of the very same grime filled dungeon she had crawled out of. A fate that could be also shared by him. If he was close enough. However, he was not, leaving her the enough space to not feel trapped. The enough space to give her the impression that she could flee once more. The enough space for her to move based on such a notion. A wrong notion. The adrenaline rush wasn't nearly as strong as the one that had impulsed her into rushing for freedom. How could it, after all, when all of such juice had already been consumed? And so, not even her mind could force her to brave through the searing pain of broken bone trying to pierce through the ribcage muscles and lungs. It didn't matter that her sore legs were readdy to run again and lifted her up, or her arms helped in the process, or even that her eyes followed a route out. The horrible pain robbed her of all strength, instantly falling beside the stone, claws scratching the moss off the wet stone surface as she tried to keep herself up. To no avail. The golden female felt powerless and completely at the mercy of this slaver. What horrible things would he resort to now that he had finally caught her? Sell her back to the vampire? Put her on sale on another market? Keep her for himself? It took a few gasps of the pure, fresh forest air to realize she wasn't where she thought she'd be by now, after passing out for who knew how long, exposed to whichever soul desired to have their cut out of her small form. No, this wasn't the putrid atmosphere of the slavemarket, or the fake invitation for lust and pleasure that lingered on her ex-master's manor, disguising the scent of death and decay that plagued the whole perimeter of the hold. It was the forest. It still was the forest. Slowly, she dared. Dared to look back to her... her... savior? The scent was strange, it didn't seem to match what she saw... but how could she know what was real and what wasn't? For all she knew, this was still a dream. In fact, they were carrying her off, back to the sludge pit of a dungeon of that arrogant, power hungry man. It was all fake... but then, why did it hurt so much. So, the scent was really odd. And the man before her wasn't a slaver... but a savior. Her emerald eyes were wide open, watching his every move as the partially oxygen and blood deprived brain tried to piece it all back together, the only things that moved other than her greatly heaving chest, breathing evidently a strain for the girl, lurched over to the injured side for protection, detaching herself from the rock. Her hands grasped on a material that didn't feel natural as they reached for her side, her pupils straying from his face to dissect what fabric it was. Bandages. Definitely, he was her savior.