1866-09-15: Of Restless
Of Restless
Summary: Emilia reflects upon returning to Pacitta, and goes about trying to deal with the restlessness that arises from it. (OOC Warning : It's Emilia, there are the Voices. Some find it creepy…so thee are warned…and stuff.)
Date: 1866-09-15
Related: Emilia things

A light breeze blew through the window causing the curtains to ruffle and drift, sending strange shadows across the floor under the starlight. Shadows changed in time across the city beyond the window as dark eyes took in the activity that yet went on in the merchant city. A breathe was released in a faint sigh, she had not looked forward to returning here. Those few who could sense it of her, had simply assume her apprehension was about having to go through that faegate again. They had not been entirely wrong, it was a thing that had weighed upon Emilia's mind. What if more days became lost, or worse? But that had not been the only cause.

We are returned. We must hunt.

More than a year had passed since she had been in Pacitta. It would be the same for others, would it not? So many had not returned to the city since the Great Raid, as they called it now, had occurred. Because of it, there would be others who were likely not comfortable returning to the city. She had seen others in the streets, the markets walking with care, a stiffness to them. The added alertness to their movements, the sweep of their eyes. It was understandable. The city tried to be welcoming, but memories did not fade so quickly. And yet, that was not her reason. She had fled even before the raid had begun.

We are hungry. We must feed.

A breathe was drawn before Emilia moved to perch within the window, taking in the city from the slightly shifted perspective. Watching the shadows at play amongst the people as they moved beyond the walls that surrounded the manse. the shadows that danced about the buildings. How easily she could yet recall their faces. The two men. Their drunken bravado and certainty in claiming their prey. The confusion that followed and turned to horror. Their screams as the blood flowed, as their faces had been become….. Emilia closed her eyes as she tried to shut out the memories.

We are ready. We know you hunger.

It was little use, it was still so clear in her mind. She swore she could even yet recall their…taste. They had been the first….but not the last. The bandit. Victor. She recall their surprise, the taste of their blood just as easily. Her bare feet found the ledge as she slipped from the window, she could feel Their excitement, the growing anticipation as she worked her way along the ledge. Just another shadow moving along the building. None of the guards noticed, none of them truly bothered to look up. It did not surprise her, they were not Huntresses. They did not know, did not even think to watch in such ways.

We knew you would see. We know your need.

Her eyes tracked the guards and their movements for a long time, before she turned her eyes back to the streets and walkways of the city. Noting the drunken staggers of some at this late hour, the few who traveled along alone. Tracing along routes that would lead to areas where people would likely be found, alone…if she waited long enough. She watched the movements, the drift of the shadows. Thoughts came and went like wisps of clouds passing before the starts, she listened to the whispering of the shadows, to the murmurs of the Voices. Encouragement to one area, the burble of excitement at the prospect of making a selection to hunt…to feed upon.

We will be glorious. We will feast.

There was a flicker of a smile as she found the window she had been after, just before the wince came as They screamed Their protest when her hand touched the window ledge. A foot soon followed and she eased herself into the room, ignoring Their anger, Their outrage. Her bare feet soundlessly touched the floor, ghosting over the floor like a shadow. Before she eased slowly into the bed and settled in against the form already occupying it. The questioning noise from him had Emilia simply murmuring,"Was of restless." Nestling in closer when his arm settled about her waste. Her stoic features easing a touch as the raging Voices faded into a rumbling murmur.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License