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Entry tags:
Did you just get beat up by a god?
Who| Tabris and Thor
What| Thor is brain-washed and aggressive, and Tabris is just aggressive.
Where| Somewhere around the pine forest?
When| Beginning of Week 6
Warnings/Notes| Violence, swearing, discussion of death
They're dead. They're all dead. She can't get used to it. Tabris had come there, so sure that this was just another bump of strange mishaps in her life. She'd gather a force, defeat the bad guy, go on. But the force is all dead, save an injured man in mourning, and a child. And the bad guy, the real bad guy, the one who put her here, seems more far away and impossible than she could have imagined. This is no bump for her to get through with a few well placed deaths.
Not that a few well placed deaths wouldn't hurt.
But not against her team, not against everyone that she had known here. Cassandra, a woman as fierce and determined as Tabris could hope to be, Maxwell, who had instantly welcomed her, given her a bow, and taught her to use it. Hawke, with that quick wit and shared knowledge of what it felt like to have the world explode around you, and everyone expects you to clean it up. Even the others, the magister she had been less than kind to, the qunari, and the mage that had dared to give her a view of a world without Tabris in it. Which still probably sucked. Not that a human would care about what life might be like for the elves in that world, versus the one she had suffered for. Stupid shems.
She moved, quietly, slinking along the forest. Her scythe strapped to her hip, she was on the lookout--For food and for enemies. The weather, and lack of people to worry over, meant that Tabris could roam farther away from the camp, and she was eager to get started on culling whoever was left and openly hostile, before they could get to the two in her campsite. She had to protect them, and she was perfectly willing to spill blood over it. That was how she operated, after all. Success was just a swath of dead bodies away.
The elven woman stopped when she heard movement. Grabbing her scythe, she leaned against a tree, peering around. It was hard to discern what direction it was coming from, but it was definitely getting closer.
What| Thor is brain-washed and aggressive, and Tabris is just aggressive.
Where| Somewhere around the pine forest?
When| Beginning of Week 6
Warnings/Notes| Violence, swearing, discussion of death
They're dead. They're all dead. She can't get used to it. Tabris had come there, so sure that this was just another bump of strange mishaps in her life. She'd gather a force, defeat the bad guy, go on. But the force is all dead, save an injured man in mourning, and a child. And the bad guy, the real bad guy, the one who put her here, seems more far away and impossible than she could have imagined. This is no bump for her to get through with a few well placed deaths.
Not that a few well placed deaths wouldn't hurt.
But not against her team, not against everyone that she had known here. Cassandra, a woman as fierce and determined as Tabris could hope to be, Maxwell, who had instantly welcomed her, given her a bow, and taught her to use it. Hawke, with that quick wit and shared knowledge of what it felt like to have the world explode around you, and everyone expects you to clean it up. Even the others, the magister she had been less than kind to, the qunari, and the mage that had dared to give her a view of a world without Tabris in it. Which still probably sucked. Not that a human would care about what life might be like for the elves in that world, versus the one she had suffered for. Stupid shems.
She moved, quietly, slinking along the forest. Her scythe strapped to her hip, she was on the lookout--For food and for enemies. The weather, and lack of people to worry over, meant that Tabris could roam farther away from the camp, and she was eager to get started on culling whoever was left and openly hostile, before they could get to the two in her campsite. She had to protect them, and she was perfectly willing to spill blood over it. That was how she operated, after all. Success was just a swath of dead bodies away.
The elven woman stopped when she heard movement. Grabbing her scythe, she leaned against a tree, peering around. It was hard to discern what direction it was coming from, but it was definitely getting closer.