Behind Unlocked Doors (Part III)
In light of Anba Hor's imprisonment, the Abbey belfry has hosted a lot of activity lately. Old cronies, murder attempts, sight-seers and maladjusted younguns--all flocking to catch a glimpse of the chained, ill-tempered captive. Most are hurriedly shooed out by the guards, but not before churning out a wonderful (if short-lived) scene or two!
This is a collection of my recent logs, edited only to remove OOC content; I preserved the messages (such as connects and disconnects) that would seen on the +radio broadcast.
[19:25:52] Anba_Hor is emaciated, looking tired. He seems as though he's just an animal now, and the brightness of his white eyes dimmed to some dull shade of grey. The fox blinks, coughing through his nose, too weak to even open his mouth for it, seemingly. Looking around, for something to eat or some stray crumb that fell from a previous tray, he sees one and goes to reach for it. Too far... the fox falls over before he can grasp it. He hears Psamathe and is still.
[19:26:27] Setting status: In Character. (IC)
[19:26:33] Anba_Hor goes In Character.
[19:29:01] The vixen enters without a word. Her mouth is fixed in a tight scowl, eyes glaring daggers at the gaunt captive. ".. question, Abner--" Psamathe eventually breaks her fuming quiet. "Jus' /who'sa'/ stripedog's been chasin' me lef' n' right?" She cuts right to the chase.
[19:32:27] Matthew Enters. His bag is on his back, but his sword is not with him. He takes in both Foxes and their position at a glance. He keeps his paws in clear view to show that he is not armed and addresses the non incarcerated fox. "I'm here to talk to the prisoner... I've got the consent of the king."
[19:34:36] Stat Player Sex Species Age Idle
[19:34:36] ----------------------------------------------------------------
[19:34:36] IC Turzel Female Mouse 31 Seasons 21s
[19:34:36] DYN Matthew Male Mouse 13 24s
[19:34:36] IC Theophilus Male Otter 7 14s
[19:34:36] IC Psamathe Female Fox Young Adul 0s
[19:34:36] IC Anba_Hor Male Fox 14 seasons 1m
[19:34:36] ----------------------------------------------------------------
[19:36:54] Anba_Hor coughs again, louder this time, before pulling himself up from all fours. He falls back on his tail against the wall, looking up at the ceiling and chuckling between several more hacks, "I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps some mangy black-and-white I tortured, or whose parents I skinned alive... who knows these things... I sort of like bothering their kind, if you hadn't noticed before..." He looks down from the ceiling at her. Then he looks at Matthew, whom he hasn't seen before, "Con... what did you say? What king, what are you talking about?! Speak!" In his anger, he seems to gain a brief burst of energy, as he struggles against the chains... he relaxes a bit, "That one won't have long to live... and his consent means nothing to the abbeybeasts. Shall I call the guards, mouse?"
[19:40:31] ".. king?" Psamathe clips, tilting her muzzle upward. She wears a heavy wool cloak, as per usual when visiting her imprisoned associate. Her jaw parts to, no doubt, share a string of unpleasantness with the mouse; luckily, Anba chimes in, and the vixen decides to stay quiet and listen for the moment. Dropping into a crouch, the fox simply fixes her eyes on the deflated captive. "Y'look a mess," she tells him, as if Anba was somehow unaware. "Shoulda' eated' that fishy when I gave ye' the chance."
[19:43:24] Matthew dropped his paws. "Well, to tell the truth, I didn't get the consent of the king, I just said that because it sounded like a good thing to say. Actually he strictly forbid me to talk to you. And told a fellow named Tuxedo to run me through if I kept poking my snout into places it didn't belong. So as you can see I've put my neck out rather far to come see you... and all I ask is a few minutes."
[19:44:05] Turzel descends the stairs.
[19:44:06] Turzel has left.
[19:45:03] Turzel has arrived.
[19:52:07] The fox, not one to give in to such an obvious coax to anger, simply stares at Psamathe; it's a distant stare that says 'I can kill you like I don't even know you, still.' Anba Hor looks from her to the mouse, who seems to just be speaking as if the two were friends. "Mouse... who /are/ you? Do you know who /I/ am?" The fox stares straight into the mouse's eyes with his own, the glare on his pale lenses blinding. "Look at me...do I look like a beast you should be talking to?"
[19:55:27] Psamathe dwells in her crouched position for a while, watching Anba; as if sizing up how emaciated he has really become--how much of a threat he still poses. A crooked half-smile plays the left half of her mouth, and the fox quietly rises. She begins to rustle around in the giant cloak, and eventually produces a smallish bottle of wine and another parcel--much like the one she had dragged up here a couple of weeks ago, except this one lacks the unpleasant odor. "Abner!" she naps, a bit indignant, as if offended that he switched his attention to Matthew.
[20:00:33] "I am Matthew. Matthew Lightpaw, And to tell the truth you look like a a piece of cheese that I left under my bed for two months one time and it got really hairy. BUT... that doesn't change the fact that Tuxedo and his pals are looking for your mouse pall. And by yourself, you're headed the same way as the king guy. "
[20:03:22] Anba_Hor's eye twitches as he hears his 'name' called. The fox has become paranoid, among other things... but he's still himself. He's very /much/ a threat. His black vulpine form turns around, cloakless, to reveal the rest of his blue tattoos on his back, as he sits facing the wall and seems to 'meditate'. The fox is silent, and except for the movement of his lower back and chest expanding with each inhalation, he doesn't move. The tattoos, a fiery scene of woodland massacre, with rabbits, mice, squirrels, volerats and moles, stretch across his sinewy frame. The cloak is piled up against the wall at his left.
[20:12:48] Psamathe exhausts a very short glance in Matthew's direction, but decides not to dignify him with much of a response. "Y'ain' got no business 'ere, shrinkrat." A cautious step is taken in the direction of Anba Hor. ".. Abner?" she pipes again, cocking a brow at the sight of his grisly tattoos. They put her stick-and-poke menagerie to shame for sure; the vixen absently brushes at an upper arm, still clenching the wine in the same paw. With the other hand, the vixen extend the parcel and braves a few more steps toward Anba--ever ready to leap like a rabbit in the other direction if he exhibits aggression. "Ah' brought ye' foodstuffs," she tells him, waggling the package; "It's not rotted this time--promise!" She pauses, still just out of the captive's reach.
[20:19:04] Anba_Hor waits. He waits until she is sure he's not a threat... he doesn't make any sudden moves, on purpose. The fox slowly turns his head to the side, in the direction of the gift, and looks up from it at her... he grunts and looks back at the wall, closing his eyes, "Much farther and I'd ask you to shoot it from a bow. What do you fear, Psamathe, old lass... it's me. If you /really/ wanted to convince me it's not poisoned, you'd set it in my lap. I won't ask that. Just put it next to me." He inhales deeply, craning his neck back and focusing on a point in the joint of the wall and ceiling.
[20:24:15] ".. Whatta' I *fear*?" Psamathe repeats, furrowing her brow in response to Anba Hor's question. "Hm--lessee', I distinctly 'member you tryin' t' skin me ah' *least* 'alf a dozen times by know .. for reasons ah'll never get." She pauses, still assessing him; eyes overcome with something like pity--at least the closest to 'pity' that the vixen is wont to get. With that, she steps again, entering the ring of fire; fully within reach of the captive. The vixen draws in a sharp breath, uncorks the wine bottle with her teeth and promptly inhales a drink. "Jus' *take it!*" she grunts between chugs, holding out the parcel to Anba.
[20:30:49] Anba_Hor waits, to make it seem as if he'll not do anything, even while she's within reach. Then, almost too quick to follow, the fox launches out and grabs the vixen, thrusting his arm between her elbows and back, preventing her arms from coming around to claw or scratch. He hovers his jaws above her neck, the fox's steamy, oppressive breath frighteningly close. The torturer holds her there for a second, almost clamping down a few times... then, for whatever reason, he doesn't do it. He withdrawls and chuckles, taking the dropped parcel and taking his arm out from behind her, "See, nothing to worry about." The fox gives her time to recover from what must have been a near-death experience, before speaking. "Now you see I have nothing to gain from your death. I may have seemed hostile towards you, but I need you. You know what we discussed before, and if you want to truly help me, you'll at least try." He takes the food at sniffs it, tastes it. The fox knows poison when he tastes it; moreover, there is little he hasn't build a resistance toward.
[20:40:57] Psamathe lets out a remarkably subdued yelp as Anba Hor yanks her down. Whether the lack of unbridled terror is due to a death-wish or due to the decided unlikelihood that he would choose to slaughter her here, of all places, is unclear; but the vixen's first reaction to the tackle and plunge is to shove her thumb into the mouth of the wine bottle. She saves the booze before her skin; unfortunately, both get a bit clanked and scraped as they hit the ground. When the initial shock dissipates, she sits upright, observing as Anba picks through the scraps within the parcel. A hollow pop resounds as she plucks her thumb from the bottle. The ragamuffin lifts it to her mouth and grunts a soft, "heh," in the tod's direction. "Nice, Abner--reeal nice." Her free hand rises to rub at her throat, coaxing the wine down.
[20:49:46] Anba_Hor looks up and behind his shoulder at her between bites, "I don't hear a yes or no in your voice... either you'll do it or not. Remember that fool of a Champion at the confrontation a season back... I /know/ you want to see that traitor fox squirm as do I... and the way to it is through his heart. No other way for a warrior with /honor/. Not money. Not the threat of torture or harm to himself. Through his loved ones, and through his own loyalty to love." The fox continues eating and chuckles... of course, you may have to... I may have poisoned you, just now... and you would need to cooperate to be given the antidote, or suffer a slow and painful death over time." Is he bluffing?
[20:52:05] Adriana has arrived.
[20:55:25] Psamathe reclines on her elbows, ears tilted back as she listens to Anba Hor ramble. "Like I tol' ya' afore, Abner--I ain' gettin' intimately involved 'n no more o' yer *schemes,*" she tells him, slurping at the wine. "I drink *far* too much ta' 'old many grudges." A broad smile cracks her features, and she leans her head back, staring out the window--almost upside-down from her perspective. She takes prompt note of the noise of approaching feet, creak-creaking up the steps, and shifts to the latter part of the subject before the impending arrival. "Poison? *Why* wouldye' poinson *me*? I *feed* you," she chimes, snapping forward to stare him down. ".. 'n if ya' did," the vixen breaks her statement for another chug of wine, ".. ye' kin' kiss yer lil' mealtimes goodbye. 'Ave a blast wastin' away to dust, mate. Fine by me."
[20:56:45] Theophilus has disconnected.
[21:06:34] Anba_Hor can manipulate the rest... but this one is being stubborn... he decides it's not him losing his edge; rather, he resolves that she is just too dulled by her constant binge to be in the state inside her head that's necessary to his persuasive methods. He turns back around and continues meditating, saying only, "Very well. We'll see who wastes away first. I've just had a feast; you've just been poisoned. I could put the question to a dibbun who has gotten the better deal and receive a pretty accurate answer." He smiles to himself, enjoying these short visits more and more.
[21:15:06] "Been poisoned fer *years*!" Psamathe hoots, removing the bottle from her lips to waggle it at him. Her lilac eyes cruise sideways, as if to consider, just for a minute, whether or not he really did poison her. But this prisoner is chock full of deceit; the vixen trusts what he says about as far as she can throw him, and chooses to take her chances with the alleged toxin.
[21:15:06] Either way, there is no way in hell that she plans to bow down to his threat and plead for salvation. She ends her lazing, hops quickly to her bare feet and adjusts her cloak--ensuring that it properly covers her recognizable bits, still wary of being recognized around here. Psamathe trots over to Anba Hor, crouches down next to him. ".. Spend a lotta' meh time 'wasted,' but this idea of 'wastin', 'n who's the one t'crumple outta 'xistence first? Apologies, Abner, but my bet's on *you*!" A bold paw delivers a hearty smack to his shoulder, and the other hand sits the wine bottle down beside him. With that, the vixen abruptly takes her leave--failing to wait for any sort of reaction.
[21:17:55] There's no place like home...
[21:17:56] There's no place like home...
[21:17:56] There's no place like home...
[21:17:56] You wake up back home, without your possessions.
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