Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

Rise By Sin

(1/1)

hot dog:
Somewhere near Vallaki, 768 BC

“Why can’t you just be happy for a single moment?!”
Nastaszia’s voice quivered.  She was near her breaking point.  Barely even a woman, she’d never wanted to be married.  The arrangement had been made to the benefit of her parents - an exchange for debt they couldn’t pay.  Being thrown in a cell for the remainder of her life would’ve likely been a less painful option. 
“You don’t listen!  You don’t obey!  You’ve been nothing but trouble - you’ve brought me nothing but trouble!  Your mother assured me that you could cook.. that you’d be silent, that you’d do as I say and please me as I demand.  You’ve done none of it!  None!”
“But I do- “
CRACK
The sting of a large, coarse hand coming into contact with her cheek coaxed tears to her eyes.  She whimpered and winced in what was truly a pathetic sight.  As if in preparation for the next hit that was to come she guarded the other side of her face.  Before the blow made contact a loud knocking came at the door of the small, dingy shack.  She wiped her cheeks and turned around as the door flung open. 
“Teodore, pack up!  The Barovian’s are here.  Get your things and go before they find you!”
Nastaszia choked back a sob.  Perhaps this would mean her freedom.  Talk of Barovian’s was never done so on a good note - but could things truly get much worse?  Maybe this would be her way out. 
She swiftly darted for the door, though found herself jerked back moments before getting close enough to escape.  Her long mane had been snatched, the grasp on her locks used to fling her halfway across the room.  She cried out as the corner of the table jabbed into her back.  In a heap upon the floor she landed, immediately curling up as if the change in position would ease her discomfort.
“You think those Barovian’s will treat you any better?  You’re a fool, Nastaszia - stupid is what you are!”
“If I could just go.. you’d not have to deal with me ever again!”
The foul bark of laughter was enough to leave fresh tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.  She begged and she pleaded, but in the end it was never, and would never, be enough.  A swift kick to her back and another to her abdomen left her unable to breathe.  She could hardly move - he’d certainly be done now.  Her eyes fluttered open just in time to see the bottom of the dirty boot come crashing down against her face.  The world went black.
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Cold drops of water splattered her face and brought her back to consciousness.  Her head throbbed and she felt physically ill.  She couldn’t move her legs and couldn’t feel her fingertips.  The smell of smoke assaulted her nostrils.  Teodore was nowhere in sight.  Help would come, she just knew it.  It had to come.
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In the end, help never came.  For three days Nastaszia lay on the floor, drifting in and out of consciousness.  The sun was beginning to set on the third day.  She awoke just briefly, but this time she wasn’t alone.  She saw him in the corner, garbed head to toe in the finest black leathers she’d ever seen.  His face was hidden by an excess of fabric.  He was seated on an empty barrel, smoking from a pipe as if the scene he was witnessing was one he’d already familiarized himself with.
“Are you going to just lay there?  It’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”
“My - . . . I can’t feel my legs. . or my hands.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?  You can’t feel your legs so they’re completely useless?  Have you even given them a try?”
She slowly bent her left knee.  A sharp pain shot through her back, from the base of her spine up to her neck and into her head.
“If you move any slower we’re going to be here another day, and that just won’t do.  Come on, up you go.”
It took her quite awhile but in the end she did manage to find her footing.  Most of their belongings were gone.  Any item which might’ve had a sliver of value was missing.  Their stores of food had been emptied.  Nastaszia packed a small sack of clothes and went to meet the mysterious stranger outside.
“We’re going to make it to the woods.  We’ll camp there tonight.”
“They say those woods are haunted… ‘Sullen’, they’re called..”
“Haunted woods?  I heard your husband spent part of his life in Zarcroft.  You’re really concerned about so called haunted woods?”
“Where is it we’re going..?”
“Vallaki.  You heard of it before?”

hot dog:
Nastaszia's eyes fluttered open to gaze up at a painfully bright, blue sky and canopy of snowy tree branches.  Her entire body ached
 and she felt a sharp pain radiating from her bones.  In the freezing cold she was without clothes, and sometime during the night portions of her bare skin
had frozen to the sharp, icy ground.  The slightest movement caused the uppermost layer of her flesh to be torn away, leaving her bloody and staining the
snow a deep shade of crimson.  Her teeth chattered so hard she feared they would break and her voice was so hoarse she couldn't even cry out for help.
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Given the way that her chestnut locks had frozen to the ground it was difficult to turn her head.  In the distance she heard footsteps - boots
snapping branches and packing down the layer of snow that dusted over the ground during the eve.  Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to freeze
her eyelids shut.  The figure halted beside her, the shadow obscuring the thin rays of sun which had at least provided a sliver of warmth to her freezing figure.  As her eyes adjusted to the change of light she began to recognize the figure standing above her - garbed similarly to the gendarme of Dementleiu and carrying a
heavy pack upon his back, the man looked to have no intention of aiding her in any way, shape or form.
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Instead he gazed down upon her and lit a cigarette.  For the moment he was silent - uncomfortably so which left her baffled and perhaps even a bit fearful.  He stepped closer, maybe to provide her aid?  She was wrong.  His lips had curled into a sinister grin, as if he took pleasure in seeing her so helpless - so close to death.  From the corner of her eye another figure caught her attention.  Standing near the treeline was a figure clad head to toe in black.  She recognized his features and the sound of his voice might've brought her comfort had it not been for the content of his message.
"How many times have I told you not to go trusting people you hardly know?  I thought we'd been through this, but I was wrong."
Unlike before he didn't come to her aid nor offer her any form of encouragement.  Instead he simply looked on, shaking his head as she struggled to free herself from her frozen restraints.  Once more she shifted her gaze to the figure above her - just in time to see his boot come crashing down towards her, cutting off the pathetic attempt at a scream as he crushed her trachea.---------------------------------------"Wakes up!  Up, up, up!"
The hiss of agitated words suddenly drew her from the nightmare she'd been having.  It took her a moment to recognize her surroundings, and despite
the familiarity she remained tense.  Her skin was coated in a layer of cold sweat and her raggy garments clung to her flesh.  She shoved a few locks of hair from
her face while catching her breath.
"Humie girl was dreaming bad, she was.  Was screaming loud and disrupting the boss, she did."
With a shaking hand she reached for the flask that was always nearby, and after removing the stopper she drank far too much than what could be
acceptable for such early hours.  She dressed in silence and took her leave quite hastily, ruminating on the dream and the very obvious warning that it
delivered to her.  Had she indeed made a mistake?  Only time would tell.

hot dog:
The last time she'd shared a bed with a man hadn't been so enjoyable.  Sleeping next to her husband was never a pleasurable task - in fact it was
quite the opposite.  She dreaded the intimate contact.  How could something that was meant to make two people feel closer leave her feeling so filthy
and ever so lonely?  She cherished his infidelity, for it meant that he craved less physical contact from her and found his happiness in the arms
of other women. 

It was during these times when she was most alone that she found company in the form of her mysterious, dark clad friend - a man
who refused to give her, simply enough, his birth name.  She didn't complain, however, for there time together was often spent out in the woods
or even lurking about the shadows together.  He was quiet by nature, though so was she, however the silence between them never seemed to cause
either of the pair any discomfort. 

It had been, by now, at least a few months since she'd last seen him.  He'd been there to coax her from the floor when she'd been driven from the house
she refused to ever consider a home.  He'd accompanied her through the journey to Vallaki and then vanished as he usually did, however his absence this time
had been lengthy.  She began to grow worried, though she'd seen him in combat and knew that he possessed capabilities far beyond her own skill - he'd certainly
still be alive and in good health.

"Even when you can't see me, know that I'm often there with you."

The statement which would've unsettled some gave her comfort, and she truly believed those words.-----------------------------------------------------------------------The city of lights was hardly her favorite place to frequent, though somehow her most recent trip had been far more enjoyable then the others.  A private dinner of
unique delicacies and flavorful drinks had left her feeling quite content.  They'd eaten until their bellies were full and then retired to a well furnished room within
The Governor's Hotel.  The suite was far fancier than even the house she'd shared with her husband.  The bed was plush and full of pillows of and linens.  It had likely
been years since she'd had such a wonderful night of rest.  The feeling of safety and security was one she rarely felt, and the peace of mind that it provided her had
made it all that much sweeter.

Shortly after the sun had rose she'd climb from the bed, dressing quietly as to not wake her sleeping companion.  She collected her belongings, scribbled a note of thanks,
and made her way back to the Mist Camp.  After browsing a few shops she made her way back to Vallaki; back to the place she now considered to be her makeshift
home.  She'd begun to feel alone just as the sun was setting.  It was her job to refrain from indulging in what most would consider to be normal friendships - such
things could be risky and lead to unwise mistakes.  She knew she'd never be alone, however, and a brief glance over her shoulder reinforced this idea when a number of
dark figures peered through the treeline at her.  Her lips curled into a relaxed smile and she continued on.

"I told you, Staszia.  We'd never leave you."

hot dog:
From within the darkness of a Tigan's Inn room a young Gundarakite woman packed her bags.  She gathered up her belongings and the bed for her small, runty pup and tore a page from her private journal, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it behind the dresser before making her way out of the Gray City.

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