COURTESY CALL
She climbs, ascends like the Olympian she is. Virgil knows better than all that her physique is to be treasured about all else; muscle must be toned and strong, mortal casings to be perfected until the scarred woman is nothing but perfect. Usually she relies upon running to craft her physique, but today the woman has taken to climbing, limbs carrying her higher and higher. As she continues her climb it gets more and more treacherous, footing looser and looser. She does not fear; fear is for the mortal. And yet, all it takes is one loose foot, and then gravity does the rest. She tumbles quite a way, body nothing but a ragdoll against the forces of gravity and mountain alike. As her head slams down a few times she finds herself rather concussed, on the verge of drifting into unconsciousness. When the woman finally comes to rest she cannot move, her head is spinning. Eyes open and see shapes, and limbs twitch, but true movement is not possible in this moment. A sinking feeling hits her gut; she is vulnerable and exposed like this, her season having taken longer than it should to expire. She is at the mercy of fate, and Virgil knows more than any that fate is a bitch. |
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Everything is blurry, and though Virgil tries to move her limbs, she finds herself mostly incapable for the moment. Lids peel back to reveal golden eyes briefly, before the light becomes too much and she has to shut them again. Whimpers escape her ears, and it is only the presence of a tongue on her face which alerts her to the presence of somebody. Wearily her head raises, eyes opening once more to take in the stranger?s figure before she flinches, the light making her head ache far more than it already does. Her legs try to pull beneath her, words far away from her lips, and she cannot find any sense of real control in her as she attempts to gather the senses required to stand up. She feels vulnerable in multiple ways, her head dizzy and groggy and torn in what feels to be a million different directions. She is too out of it to truly recognize the danger of being around a strange male while she?s incapacitated and in season. |
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She feels like a boat, drifting away on a torrential sea. Reality drifts to her in short bursts, blurry at the edges and incoherent. Alas, she is able to slowly piece together the truth of the situation. For all her strength, she is a goddess in mortal casing, a powerful soul damned to wear chains. She cannot fight against the male, and she can only further attempt to pull to her feet when she finds herself shoved beneath him. Her heart beats rapidly, eyes opening once more, nostrils flaring as she tries to take in all that she can of her attacker. If she cannot harm him now, then she will rip his head off and place it on a spike later. She is afraid, more than she has ever been. Her eyes close as she tries to drift away into the blur of her concussion, attempts to leave behind this humiliation that she never imagined would belong to her. It is her first time; she once thought it would belong to a man chosen by her Oracles, and then she thought perhaps it might belong to the Amenti Alpha who had given her a home, and recently she had thought it would be with her dearest Raisa, but it is not. Alas, the golden woman has it in her not to try. This demon, this vile creature, he will not see her shed a tear over him. She will burn him to ash. He will be the first conquest of her Empire. She can do nothing, however, as flesh joins with flesh and she lets out noises of vague protest, attempting to pull away as best she can. This isn?t supposed to happen to her. |
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