A creak can be heard through the silent night as the door to a inn is pried open. A black clad foot slowly steps through the opening, followed by another. To the bar the feet did stroll, and the figure attached to them tossed some coin to the counter, they shined in the light as her deep black eyes starred to the fat and sweaty man behind the counter. He knew what to get her without speech, as she is usually his only customer this late at night. On occasion he was even woken by her knife slammed next to his head on the bar, he would rather prevent that from happening again. He scurried over to the cider barrel after grabbing a tankard but he was stopped by a soft and charming voice. ''Ale tonight Barli'. He grinned and hapilly oblidged, ale is more expensive than cider. The pint was plopped on the bar before the fat mans grubby little fingers snatched out to take each silver piece greedily. The man slumped back into his chair behind the bar to rest after his nights customer had visited. This made her snort as her slender fingers took the tankard by it's curve. The contents frothed back and forth, splashing onto the figures black attire as she turned swiftly the cloak upon her back wafting the air lightly. The deep and peircing black eyes of the woman starred blankly to the door whilst her ale slowly dissapeared, hapilly into her stomach. As it was made to...she thought to herself.
The door once again creaked open as the figure slipped through the space she had once come. A strand of the figures hair blew lightly behind her as her feet carried her from the inn she found herself in so very much. Down the cobble streets her shoes took her, almost like lifting her through the air, a blade of grass in the morning wind, and the ale was her dew. To a halt came her black tinted feet upon the reaching of looser gravel, rougher rock. The figure loftily handled the hilt of the sword at her waist, standing speechless to the entrance of the beggars part of town. Her breathe rippled through the cold nights air like a disturbance on a seemingly frozen pond. After moments again her feet strode her forward without sound to one of the pathetic homes. The figures face leaned to a window, wipping grim from it as her dark and hard eyes starred into the mess that had once been her home. Her home with the gang atleast, the ones who took her in, who sheltered her, who gave her meaning. Snort she did..and aplenty to remember this notion told to her. After a while the figure turned upon her heel. Her feet leading her forward, but swifter now, each step held importance. As on this night, for the first time of many, she had a purpose.
Out of the Combe gate rushed the figure, her dark cloak as a ravens shrouded feathers bristled in the wind. Leaves and twigs snapped under her feet as the Chetwood forest lay infront of her. Yet again did her feet stop cold, she reached to her breasts and positioned the knife between her twins more comfortably for the moment she might need it. The dark shadows welcomed her black engorged figure as one of their own. Rats, foxes, rabbits, many breatures of the forest scattered before her path, allowing her to pass. Slowly did the soft skin of her palmsclench together, her nails digging into them in hatred as a small shimmer of stone flashed before her eyes between the darkness of the forest. She passed unnoticed by the forest itself, the moonlight falling ahead of her, the sword and spear upon her person glimmered from the light of her mistress moon.
Silence and serinety flowed through the night, as if time stood still. Though something broke that silence even if just lightly. The sound of clicking as a lock was picked slowly followed by the light creaking of a door being opened. But the expected did not come, silence rushed back over the forest, the trees, them home like water upon sand. What was the figure doing when her intentions were so obvious? Perhaps stalking her prey, teasing, observing. Hours later, atleast it woudl seem that way, a thud was heard from inside the small and serene home. And then a snap followed by a scream, that of a grown man. Another snap sounded, though muffled this time as he was gagged by his 'master'. The forest stiffened and the deer froze, the foxes shook, and squiels shivered. The sound of steel against flesh seemed to echo across the wood, followed by a gurgle and a repetitive drip. Crimson liquid seeped from the mans neck as the black cladded feet slowly crept from the body.
Tears were reflected silver from the moon that shone down upon the figure, standing upon the entry of the home. The moon looked down upon her, shining and illuminating her like a silent judge. Slowly the figure dropped to her knees, she choked as her tears started to fall in steady streams, as she clenched her fists the crimson liquid so knew all so well slowly dropped from her hands. her chest heaved as she cried silently, her sobs like a whisper throughout the forest. But why did she cry? What she came to do had been done had it not? Perhaps she cried for the loss of her innosence, perhaps for her lost mother and verginity that was taken form her as if it was a toy without meaning, perhaps it was because before she took the life of the one she hated most...she thought. thought of her past, the future. She knew what was to come, what as to happen to her.
Her life had always had sad beginnings but happy endings.
From now on it would start with happy beginning and have sad endings
Slowly did the figure stand, her dark piercing eyes starred to the sun that was rising before her. Brynal Brooks had her revenge, and she had her satisfaction. Her heart was changed of these recent days, down her face mask fell as her slender fingers grasped the curve of it. The mark of a love bit upon her lip from days earlier. She removed her shoulder pads, revealing the rest of these bites, allowing her shame to be seen. Her breathe still was shown to her by the cold night, the cold morning, from her cold heart. Brynal started her way back from where she came, her feet carried her up that cobble road, past the ruint house, to the wooden door and through the space. A knife landed next to the disgruntled fat mans head. she took her ale and tilted it to her lips to refresh her broken soul.
A gasp was heard in the baedroom of Brynal Brooks home as she awoke form her dream, tears on her eyes. Slwoyl she sat up and pulled her shirt away to feed her children, to nurture her love. After she fed herself slender sausage, with a bit of burn to it as she loved. Slowly did she dress in her black shoes, her black hat, her shrouded cloak like a ravens feather. She headed out her door to replay her night she had seen, to replay her dream.
To replay her future.
