Encounterlogs
Elanoras Odd Encounter Sr Claudia 240508
Elanora's plight began in the eerie quiet of the pre-dawn hours, bound and captive in the back of a moving vehicle, her consciousness fluttering to life amidst whispers of her uncertain fate. Her realization of being kidnapped, illuminated by the flicker of hope offered by the meager comforts of her makeshift prison and the distinctly human voices of her captors, marked the starting point of her desperate quest for freedom. The narrative took a turn when, disregarding the tight ropes that promised only pain and the dangers that lurked in the unseen, Elanora decided to fight back, leveraging her ingenuity against her captors’ momentary distraction. Her efforts paid off—her ankles were freed by one captor, easily swayed under the guise of concern for her well-being, which she exploited with a blend of seduction and psychic persuasive skills.
The situation escalated quickly outside the vehicle, offering Elanora a fleeting chance at escape. She seized it with a mixture of fear and urgency, darting into the encompassing darkness of the forest. The narrative unfolded with her frantic run for survival, the forest around her alive with the unnerving sensation of being watched, and the auditory illusion—or perhaps reality—of something or someone following. Eventually, her bound hands were freed by serendipity or the strange machinations of the environment itself, only to confront a new horror: a sentient, hungry tree that transformed her bid for freedom into a fight for her life. Through the dense forest that promised sanctuary but delivered peril, Elanora's resolve was tested against nature’s most ancient and unpredictable whims, leaving her fate to be determined by the forest’s enigmatic entities.
(Elanora's odd encounter(SRClaudia):SRClaudia)
[Tue May 7 2024]
In Inside The Stately Living Room of Repentance House
Adjacent to the entrance hall, the living room serves as the heart of the Phi Beta Chi home. It's a spacious area where white and azure blue dominate the color scheme, from the plush sofas to the ornamental throw pillows. The furniture arrangement promotes both social interaction and individual contemplation, with seating clusters and solitary armchairs near bookshelves lined with literary classics and academic journals. The room's central coffee table, a piece of white craftsmanship, often holds current newspapers, scholarly magazines, and strategic board games, all underscored by soft ambient music that whispers through hidden speakers.
It is before dawn, about 58F(14C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target has been abducted by the syndicate for potential sale offworld, they must escape or stall their abductors long enough for their allies to be able to come rescue them before the transaction can take place.
)
In the before dawn ours that bear a heavy mist, there is nothing but silence at first. It's disturbing, suffocating - stretching on and on. Elanora, not yet aware of the predicament, is blissfully unconscious - for now. Should the distraught sounds fading in the darkness of the forest stretching on either end begin to stir her awake, it'd be the sound of a truck that arouses supicion first; the binds at her wrists and feet following close second in their restrictive hold. There is the chatter of a radio, frazzled and static, switching from station to station between two men that sit behind a windowless wall of metal that give insight upon them from the opening - the sound of muted music mingling with their quiet argument. One thing is for certain, she's on the road, she's taken, and her destination unknown.
Thick lashes flutter over eyes the colour of liquid gold as the first tendrils of conciousness reach Elanora. Her breathing catches as she tries to move and her body abruptly stiffens at the feel of the restrictions around her wrists and ankles. Stilling, she lies there, listening, pretending that she didn't wake, as the sound of the road and the radio reach her sensitive ears. What... language were they sleeping? Had she been drugged? She risks opening her eyes just a sliver, looking carefully around herself.
Thick lashes flutter over eyes the colour of liquid gold as the first tendrils of conciousness reach Elanora. Her breathing catches as she tries to move and her body abruptly stiffens at the feel of the restrictions around her wrists and ankles. Stilling, she lies there, listening, pretending that she didn't wake, as the sound of the road and the radio reach her sensitive ears. What... language were they speaking*? Had she been drugged? She risks opening her eyes just a sliver, looking carefully around herself. (fixed)
As the mote of light returns to her life, Elanora would find she's at least on the relative comfort of a hardcushioned backseat, separated by the divider between her and her captors. Maybe she isn't a threat, because there is nothing that keeps her where she is beyond the locked doors and the rope at her hands and feet binding them separately, albeit very tightly, done by an expert hand. The voices she hears are plain English, nothing unusual, if not for the contents drowning out the buzz of the constant static whenever the station changes, muffled if only by the rocking of the truck heading into further and further darkness within the woods.
"We're fuckin' late,"
"Ain't me that wanted t'undress her first."
A bit thick, but the new englander accents arguing is unmistakable. The second voice more disinterested, lazier in his drawl, the first, more worried - "Stop playing with the fuckin' radio, and you never know what she might've had hidden." What an excuse. The first voice doesn't buy it, he continues, waves off dismissively an open palm towards his companion, and continues to search for any station whatsoever that would pick up as he drives along further and further away from the light of day and into immutable darkness of the forest with all that it hides.
Elanora bites her lip to muffle a soft moan as she tries to move her fingers. Whoever tied the rope had made it *tight* and she could feel her fingers tingling as she tried to get the circulation started back in them. Her eyes drift down her body and she has to stifle another groan as she looks at her body on display. Clothed in only her bra and panties - apparently they couldn't hide too much threats? it showed off the trials of gold that ran all over her skin. Swirls like someone had taken a paint brush and trialed it over her body as they say fit, curling down from her neck over the top of one breast, dipping down. Another crossing from the other of another. Fuck fuck fuck. Where they slave traders? She studies the ropes at her wrists, nylon... probably will get tighter the more she struggles... then further down at her ankles. The same. Quietly, carefully, she brings her hands up to her mouth and starts gnawing on the ropes that bind them.
Elanora bites her lip to muffle a soft moan as she tries to move her fingers. Whoever tied the rope had made it *tight* and she could feel her fingers tingling as she tried to get the circulation started back in them. Her eyes drift down her body and she has to stifle another groan as she looks at her body on display. Clothed in only her bra and panties - apparently they couldn't hide too much threats? it showed off the trials of gold that ran all over her skin. Swirls like someone had taken a paint brush and trialed it over her body as they say fit, curling down from her neck over the top of one breast, dipping down. Another crossing from the top of the other. Fuck fuck fuck. Were they slave traders? She studies the ropes at her wrists, nylon... probably will get tighter the more she struggles... then further down at her ankles. The same. Quietly, carefully, she brings her hands up to her mouth and starts gnawing on the ropes that bind them. (fixed)
Her struggle is ineffectual. The car continues on in the relative silence of the two morose men ahead, driving without speaking now, evidently at odds with one another. Unaware, it appears, of their captor awaking and gnawing on her bindings. Her state easily suggests anyhow that she was not taking by any drug induced capture, further tell that they really didn't think she'd be much to subdue. In her clash with the ropes, Elanora may feel the sting of pain that comes at the back of her skull from the motion. Where she was hit. Where blood had mingled with the hue of her hair, near undistinguishable, dried and flaking down to the nape of her neck.
Yet, with that sinking feeling, comes another. A pair of eyes, watching. More so than the overbearing suffoction of the forest whistling by and past her through the closed windows. Things out there keep a constant vigil of these new usurpers to their domain, whatever they may be. A bump on the road bounces the vehicle, disjoints her, and not very long after, comes another sound. A sputtering of sorts from the engine; the headlight illuminating ahead shut down - "Fuck!" The more nerveous of the two exclaims, and the vehicle begins to groan in agitation as the calmer of them begins to pull aside, slowly, with a sigh...
She was in too much of a panic at first to have felt the dull headache at the back of her head but she started to feel it more and more as the first rush of adrenaline faded. Her mouth tasted like ash. It was dry and the rope tasted no better as she tried to chew the same spot over and over again with her sharper than usual canines. The pit of her stomach churned as she tried to remember what she had been doing. Did it happen.... at college? The bar? Gods she couldn't remember. Lashes flutter over golden eyes as she wonders if this is what it felt like to have a concussion, but she keeps working, keeps chewing, trying to get the rope threadbare so that she could snap it when she needed to. Her eyes drift up as the vehicle slowly comes to a stop. Lying on the backseat as she was... she couldn't really see much through the window on the other side of the car and she hastily throws her waist length blood red hair over her wrists, hiding the evidence of her activities as Elanora pretends to still be unconcious.
"Fuc-" The voice is silenced instantly, just as the vehicle pulls to a stop. Not willingly, not by the act of stopping -- but by the back of his the calmer mand smacking the other in the mouth at once, drawing blood with the cut delivered to their lip. It reveals, through that small gap, the syndicate mark thickly worn on the ringfinger. "Say another word and I'm leaving you out here." It works. The nervous of the two is meeker for it, drawn into his seat with a quiet grumble of defiance. Elanora, at the back, is the sole witness of their dynamic. There is clearly one person that calls the shots; if she'd stop trying to chew her bindings long enough to look.
"I'm gonna check the engine, keep quiet, watch over the merchandise, this isn't like our usual gigs." Whatever he could mean by that is left elusive as the man leaves the vehicle, circles abound to pop open the front and work out of sight. Had he only raised his head once before doing it, he may have saw their captive wide awake, before she resumed her pretense of blisssful oblivion. Alas, her string of luck continues, the man unable to see behind the thick sheet metal; the fae attracting the polar opposite of every end. While she's called upon this misfortune, mayhaps she may also inadvertantly call upon the reversal of it, too, depending on what she does.
The second in command, left in the car, leans over to the side. Wide-awake and fearful eyes first take the shadowed scenery outside with belated breath and clear fear, then leans the other side to look through the opening of their division, the wall, to peer upon their catch to see her sleeping still. Blue-eyes flit, linger just a bit too long on her form, across her body, before retreating back. "Fuck, fuck.." His whispered expletive falls on deaf ears, as he peers ahead.
Elanora fights the urge to shiver as she lies there on that backseat. Did she... take her chances with these two? Or whatever was out there in the forest? Where they in the forest outside of Haven? Where one wrong step could lead one stuck in another world? She swallows and peeks again, trying to look down at her chest, finding it empty of the nightmare charm that usually nestled between her breasts. Fuck. The words the man were echoing were right. She listens to the clanging, to the noises coming from the front and tries to slowly, carefully inch her bound hands up to the door handle. Another clang and she was just about to pull it when she realized she couldn't well run very far with her ankles tied together. Fuck. She shakes her head, she'll have to do it the other way. She stretches out more on the backseat, spreading her thighs, her back more arched as she let out a soft moan. Another soft noise before her voice, hoarse from how dry her mouth was whimpered, "Water.... Water... please.."
Clank, clank, clank..
Something goes on out there, the one in charge working while they're at a stand-still in the middle of a precarious road. He's trying his best to get the vehicle back in motion, but its as if the forest here denies them the right, the acquisition of anything modern, non-natural, denied. While the other fidgets in his seat, he fidgets only more when he hears the voice. There is a bump - he likely hit his head from jumping in his set, the clanking stopped out front for it. A question leveled, "Fuck's wrong?" and there isn't a single beat before he slips out of the car and yells; "Nothing!"
And another, "She's awake, God, fuck, she's awake - let's leave her and go." Dismissal comes in the form of another voice. "Get in the car, you dumb fuck." But the other man doesn't, in his brief defiance. More grumbles, some silent argument or another. Whatever transpired in the stretched on moment, Elanora would find her door soon open, and face-to-face with a man in his early thirties, supporting a recently acquired, bruised face and a purpled eye peering in and at her. As if he didn't hear her the first time, he waits for a moment in trepidation, and asks; "What d'you want?" Clearly, he's been told to take care of her.
Elanora's lashes flutter. She was more than ready to hypnotize the man... But there was the other as well.. So might as well try the good old tricks first. Large, golden eyes blink up at the man infront of her and she makes another soft noise of pain. Her dry throat swallows as she arches slightly more on the seat. The white panties and bra she had picked out this morning makes the gold lines that decorate her body all the more bright, as if a blank canvas for one to paint on. "Please...." She begs, adding just the hint of psychic persuation. "Please... *Please untie my ankles* I can't ... I can't feel my toes.. Surely... your buyer doesn't want me damaged right?" She asks, her cherryblossom pink lips parting as she lolls her head weakly on the backseat.
While the car repairs continue, Elanora would find her psychic embrace take in too easily. How could it not, she was up against just a man - but more than that, his eyes, those wide-open and fearful blue eyes trail across her body with more interest. He swallows, glances over his shoulder, at nothing, at the looming darkness, then climbs in to the backseat. "Yeah.." His words are not his own. "My buyer," A strange, twisted pride as he thinks he's in charge. ".. wouldn't want you damaged." His hands find her legs, hold onto them, an excuse to set her straight and proper while he inspects the merchandise laid upon his backseat. "If you try anythin', you'll be sorry for it." His warning comes alongside sweet release and relief, the rope at her ankles undone as easily as if he had made them. Likely he was, too - the other more in line with brute force, and this bruised man with the more dexterous of things.
Elanora makes a small noise for the man as he turns her upright onto the seat, her ankles expertly untied by the man. The trials of gold that spiral up her ankles leads the sight up, up, all the way to the inside of her thighs where they disappear. The gem on the front of her chaste, white lace panties glitters dully as she uses every part of her body that was created to sway men. "I... I won't do anything please... My head... it hurts so much.." She whimpers at the man, opening her golden eyes as much as she can to give a look of utter innocence. "And... I really need to pee... Please.. can I just... Go behind that tree?" She looks past the man at the forest behind him. She flutters her lashes weakly, her body slumped against the chair as if she couldn't even hold herself up enough to sit upright. "I don't... want to make a mess in here.."
Set beneath that lecherous gaze devouring her body with sight alone, Elanora would nearly, just nearly have what she'd wanted. Possibly, if what she wanted was to test her luck out there, in the grim darkness stretching beyond in the dawn hours - bereft of the sun's light in the ever-threatening nature of the forests laid outside. If only there hadn't been another. The sound of the whole operation of fixing the vehicle had been at pause for a while, and just over the meekish man's shoulders, she might spot a half-masked visage, brown eyes scalding into her, at the man so easily in her vices. Unadultrated rage collected in a mysterious captor. He doesn't speak, he reaches in, grabs the other, and pulls him along. "I gave you one fucking job," comes his eventual words...
Her door is left open, her captives, momentarily, distracted. There is a commotion outside, the sound of a wheezing breath. A thud, as if someone fell. That someone, is clearly getting beaten to a pulp right now, uncaring of the merchandise they went through whatever trouble they went through to get.
Elanora's golden eyes glance at the other man, keeping a look of weakness and innocent as they disappear from her door. She listens to the beating, her eyes glancing out at the windows, waiting for a moment when the man is reaching down to grab the other, listening for when the beating might stop soon and thus at least one of her captors is more disabled. Hearing it, the rustle of clothes, she dives through the door, making a mad dash down the path as she lifts her head, desperately trying to hear, trying to smell water in the lush forest that surrounds them. Her bare feet hurt as she runs as fast as she can, her breath panting as she desperately tries to get distance between her and her captors.
In the distraction of her captors, Elanora does dash out of the vehicle. As little of clothing as she is, she's out there, barefoot, running into the darkness without a care in the world, or driven by the need to survive whatever the men had in store for her. Given the syndicate penchant, nothing good. Bushes rustle, branches break on her skin, tangle in her hair, kept at bay only by held-together, bound hands while the thorns and oft-sharp twig or another cuts open her skin. All around, in the direction she decided to go, is night. Soon enough the shroud drowning out even the scream at the men behind her, who didn't dare to chase her into the boundless shadow with all of its myriad threats.
That sensation of being watched returns in the sightless run. Eyes, all around, from the trees, up in the canopy. In the eerie silence of it all, she has the attention of worse things out here. Something gleams, something drowns it out, there is the rushing sound of water in one direction, impossible to tell with the sounds all drowned in echo. Even her footfalls on the dry grass seems to echo -- or maybe it is another set of steps, closely trailing behind her own.
Elanora holds her bound hands out infront of her, trying to intercept as many branches as she can as they whip past her while she runs. Her breath pants out as she keeps going, trying to head in the direction of the waterfall, curving whenever it sounds more far away. Her eyes desperately search through the darkness as her ears try to pick out the noise of frogs, something aquatic. Anything aquatic. Her chest heavies as she rapidly reaches the end of her endurance, her golden eyes darting behind her every now and then to try and see if they were following her. And if not them. What was following her. Forced to slow down to catch her breath, she uses the chance to snag the rope around her wrist on a branch, trying to snap the rope where she had been chewing it.
As soon as she stops when the acrid burn in her muscles become unbearable, and her lungs feel the weight of her endurance waning, Elanora may feel the brunt of those eyes more. There is nothing out there. Or so it seems. That double footstep at her back stops immediately, as if it never was. Hunting, perhaps, whatever it is that was chasing her along in this decrepit place. The sound of water remains elusive, and she may see more than one branch broken - branches she's broken herself, as her eyes adjust slightly, but not by much.
The rope at her wrists, when put against that jagged wood jutting out, snaps in half -- but not by her own pressure applied. No, it is by the upward motion of the tree-arm before her, shifting with the wind. If only it were that simple. If only it were that easy. Groan of old wood captivates all sound, echoes strangely across the forest, dims every other noise of predators while that thick trunk slowly begins to bend, and bend, and what meets her eyes, the molten pools of gold, is the hollowed out front of a gnarly tree in the vague shape of a face, empty sockets for eyes, another gaping hole for a mouth, a gust of wind erupting through it at her face.
It castss her hair in disarray, before it begins to make a shrill, hungry sound.
The situation escalated quickly outside the vehicle, offering Elanora a fleeting chance at escape. She seized it with a mixture of fear and urgency, darting into the encompassing darkness of the forest. The narrative unfolded with her frantic run for survival, the forest around her alive with the unnerving sensation of being watched, and the auditory illusion—or perhaps reality—of something or someone following. Eventually, her bound hands were freed by serendipity or the strange machinations of the environment itself, only to confront a new horror: a sentient, hungry tree that transformed her bid for freedom into a fight for her life. Through the dense forest that promised sanctuary but delivered peril, Elanora's resolve was tested against nature’s most ancient and unpredictable whims, leaving her fate to be determined by the forest’s enigmatic entities.
(Elanora's odd encounter(SRClaudia):SRClaudia)
[Tue May 7 2024]
In Inside The Stately Living Room of Repentance House
Adjacent to the entrance hall, the living room serves as the heart of the Phi Beta Chi home. It's a spacious area where white and azure blue dominate the color scheme, from the plush sofas to the ornamental throw pillows. The furniture arrangement promotes both social interaction and individual contemplation, with seating clusters and solitary armchairs near bookshelves lined with literary classics and academic journals. The room's central coffee table, a piece of white craftsmanship, often holds current newspapers, scholarly magazines, and strategic board games, all underscored by soft ambient music that whispers through hidden speakers.
It is before dawn, about 58F(14C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target has been abducted by the syndicate for potential sale offworld, they must escape or stall their abductors long enough for their allies to be able to come rescue them before the transaction can take place.
)
In the before dawn ours that bear a heavy mist, there is nothing but silence at first. It's disturbing, suffocating - stretching on and on. Elanora, not yet aware of the predicament, is blissfully unconscious - for now. Should the distraught sounds fading in the darkness of the forest stretching on either end begin to stir her awake, it'd be the sound of a truck that arouses supicion first; the binds at her wrists and feet following close second in their restrictive hold. There is the chatter of a radio, frazzled and static, switching from station to station between two men that sit behind a windowless wall of metal that give insight upon them from the opening - the sound of muted music mingling with their quiet argument. One thing is for certain, she's on the road, she's taken, and her destination unknown.
Thick lashes flutter over eyes the colour of liquid gold as the first tendrils of conciousness reach Elanora. Her breathing catches as she tries to move and her body abruptly stiffens at the feel of the restrictions around her wrists and ankles. Stilling, she lies there, listening, pretending that she didn't wake, as the sound of the road and the radio reach her sensitive ears. What... language were they sleeping? Had she been drugged? She risks opening her eyes just a sliver, looking carefully around herself.
Thick lashes flutter over eyes the colour of liquid gold as the first tendrils of conciousness reach Elanora. Her breathing catches as she tries to move and her body abruptly stiffens at the feel of the restrictions around her wrists and ankles. Stilling, she lies there, listening, pretending that she didn't wake, as the sound of the road and the radio reach her sensitive ears. What... language were they speaking*? Had she been drugged? She risks opening her eyes just a sliver, looking carefully around herself. (fixed)
As the mote of light returns to her life, Elanora would find she's at least on the relative comfort of a hardcushioned backseat, separated by the divider between her and her captors. Maybe she isn't a threat, because there is nothing that keeps her where she is beyond the locked doors and the rope at her hands and feet binding them separately, albeit very tightly, done by an expert hand. The voices she hears are plain English, nothing unusual, if not for the contents drowning out the buzz of the constant static whenever the station changes, muffled if only by the rocking of the truck heading into further and further darkness within the woods.
"We're fuckin' late,"
"Ain't me that wanted t'undress her first."
A bit thick, but the new englander accents arguing is unmistakable. The second voice more disinterested, lazier in his drawl, the first, more worried - "Stop playing with the fuckin' radio, and you never know what she might've had hidden." What an excuse. The first voice doesn't buy it, he continues, waves off dismissively an open palm towards his companion, and continues to search for any station whatsoever that would pick up as he drives along further and further away from the light of day and into immutable darkness of the forest with all that it hides.
Elanora bites her lip to muffle a soft moan as she tries to move her fingers. Whoever tied the rope had made it *tight* and she could feel her fingers tingling as she tried to get the circulation started back in them. Her eyes drift down her body and she has to stifle another groan as she looks at her body on display. Clothed in only her bra and panties - apparently they couldn't hide too much threats? it showed off the trials of gold that ran all over her skin. Swirls like someone had taken a paint brush and trialed it over her body as they say fit, curling down from her neck over the top of one breast, dipping down. Another crossing from the other of another. Fuck fuck fuck. Where they slave traders? She studies the ropes at her wrists, nylon... probably will get tighter the more she struggles... then further down at her ankles. The same. Quietly, carefully, she brings her hands up to her mouth and starts gnawing on the ropes that bind them.
Elanora bites her lip to muffle a soft moan as she tries to move her fingers. Whoever tied the rope had made it *tight* and she could feel her fingers tingling as she tried to get the circulation started back in them. Her eyes drift down her body and she has to stifle another groan as she looks at her body on display. Clothed in only her bra and panties - apparently they couldn't hide too much threats? it showed off the trials of gold that ran all over her skin. Swirls like someone had taken a paint brush and trialed it over her body as they say fit, curling down from her neck over the top of one breast, dipping down. Another crossing from the top of the other. Fuck fuck fuck. Were they slave traders? She studies the ropes at her wrists, nylon... probably will get tighter the more she struggles... then further down at her ankles. The same. Quietly, carefully, she brings her hands up to her mouth and starts gnawing on the ropes that bind them. (fixed)
Her struggle is ineffectual. The car continues on in the relative silence of the two morose men ahead, driving without speaking now, evidently at odds with one another. Unaware, it appears, of their captor awaking and gnawing on her bindings. Her state easily suggests anyhow that she was not taking by any drug induced capture, further tell that they really didn't think she'd be much to subdue. In her clash with the ropes, Elanora may feel the sting of pain that comes at the back of her skull from the motion. Where she was hit. Where blood had mingled with the hue of her hair, near undistinguishable, dried and flaking down to the nape of her neck.
Yet, with that sinking feeling, comes another. A pair of eyes, watching. More so than the overbearing suffoction of the forest whistling by and past her through the closed windows. Things out there keep a constant vigil of these new usurpers to their domain, whatever they may be. A bump on the road bounces the vehicle, disjoints her, and not very long after, comes another sound. A sputtering of sorts from the engine; the headlight illuminating ahead shut down - "Fuck!" The more nerveous of the two exclaims, and the vehicle begins to groan in agitation as the calmer of them begins to pull aside, slowly, with a sigh...
She was in too much of a panic at first to have felt the dull headache at the back of her head but she started to feel it more and more as the first rush of adrenaline faded. Her mouth tasted like ash. It was dry and the rope tasted no better as she tried to chew the same spot over and over again with her sharper than usual canines. The pit of her stomach churned as she tried to remember what she had been doing. Did it happen.... at college? The bar? Gods she couldn't remember. Lashes flutter over golden eyes as she wonders if this is what it felt like to have a concussion, but she keeps working, keeps chewing, trying to get the rope threadbare so that she could snap it when she needed to. Her eyes drift up as the vehicle slowly comes to a stop. Lying on the backseat as she was... she couldn't really see much through the window on the other side of the car and she hastily throws her waist length blood red hair over her wrists, hiding the evidence of her activities as Elanora pretends to still be unconcious.
"Fuc-" The voice is silenced instantly, just as the vehicle pulls to a stop. Not willingly, not by the act of stopping -- but by the back of his the calmer mand smacking the other in the mouth at once, drawing blood with the cut delivered to their lip. It reveals, through that small gap, the syndicate mark thickly worn on the ringfinger. "Say another word and I'm leaving you out here." It works. The nervous of the two is meeker for it, drawn into his seat with a quiet grumble of defiance. Elanora, at the back, is the sole witness of their dynamic. There is clearly one person that calls the shots; if she'd stop trying to chew her bindings long enough to look.
"I'm gonna check the engine, keep quiet, watch over the merchandise, this isn't like our usual gigs." Whatever he could mean by that is left elusive as the man leaves the vehicle, circles abound to pop open the front and work out of sight. Had he only raised his head once before doing it, he may have saw their captive wide awake, before she resumed her pretense of blisssful oblivion. Alas, her string of luck continues, the man unable to see behind the thick sheet metal; the fae attracting the polar opposite of every end. While she's called upon this misfortune, mayhaps she may also inadvertantly call upon the reversal of it, too, depending on what she does.
The second in command, left in the car, leans over to the side. Wide-awake and fearful eyes first take the shadowed scenery outside with belated breath and clear fear, then leans the other side to look through the opening of their division, the wall, to peer upon their catch to see her sleeping still. Blue-eyes flit, linger just a bit too long on her form, across her body, before retreating back. "Fuck, fuck.." His whispered expletive falls on deaf ears, as he peers ahead.
Elanora fights the urge to shiver as she lies there on that backseat. Did she... take her chances with these two? Or whatever was out there in the forest? Where they in the forest outside of Haven? Where one wrong step could lead one stuck in another world? She swallows and peeks again, trying to look down at her chest, finding it empty of the nightmare charm that usually nestled between her breasts. Fuck. The words the man were echoing were right. She listens to the clanging, to the noises coming from the front and tries to slowly, carefully inch her bound hands up to the door handle. Another clang and she was just about to pull it when she realized she couldn't well run very far with her ankles tied together. Fuck. She shakes her head, she'll have to do it the other way. She stretches out more on the backseat, spreading her thighs, her back more arched as she let out a soft moan. Another soft noise before her voice, hoarse from how dry her mouth was whimpered, "Water.... Water... please.."
Clank, clank, clank..
Something goes on out there, the one in charge working while they're at a stand-still in the middle of a precarious road. He's trying his best to get the vehicle back in motion, but its as if the forest here denies them the right, the acquisition of anything modern, non-natural, denied. While the other fidgets in his seat, he fidgets only more when he hears the voice. There is a bump - he likely hit his head from jumping in his set, the clanking stopped out front for it. A question leveled, "Fuck's wrong?" and there isn't a single beat before he slips out of the car and yells; "Nothing!"
And another, "She's awake, God, fuck, she's awake - let's leave her and go." Dismissal comes in the form of another voice. "Get in the car, you dumb fuck." But the other man doesn't, in his brief defiance. More grumbles, some silent argument or another. Whatever transpired in the stretched on moment, Elanora would find her door soon open, and face-to-face with a man in his early thirties, supporting a recently acquired, bruised face and a purpled eye peering in and at her. As if he didn't hear her the first time, he waits for a moment in trepidation, and asks; "What d'you want?" Clearly, he's been told to take care of her.
Elanora's lashes flutter. She was more than ready to hypnotize the man... But there was the other as well.. So might as well try the good old tricks first. Large, golden eyes blink up at the man infront of her and she makes another soft noise of pain. Her dry throat swallows as she arches slightly more on the seat. The white panties and bra she had picked out this morning makes the gold lines that decorate her body all the more bright, as if a blank canvas for one to paint on. "Please...." She begs, adding just the hint of psychic persuation. "Please... *Please untie my ankles* I can't ... I can't feel my toes.. Surely... your buyer doesn't want me damaged right?" She asks, her cherryblossom pink lips parting as she lolls her head weakly on the backseat.
While the car repairs continue, Elanora would find her psychic embrace take in too easily. How could it not, she was up against just a man - but more than that, his eyes, those wide-open and fearful blue eyes trail across her body with more interest. He swallows, glances over his shoulder, at nothing, at the looming darkness, then climbs in to the backseat. "Yeah.." His words are not his own. "My buyer," A strange, twisted pride as he thinks he's in charge. ".. wouldn't want you damaged." His hands find her legs, hold onto them, an excuse to set her straight and proper while he inspects the merchandise laid upon his backseat. "If you try anythin', you'll be sorry for it." His warning comes alongside sweet release and relief, the rope at her ankles undone as easily as if he had made them. Likely he was, too - the other more in line with brute force, and this bruised man with the more dexterous of things.
Elanora makes a small noise for the man as he turns her upright onto the seat, her ankles expertly untied by the man. The trials of gold that spiral up her ankles leads the sight up, up, all the way to the inside of her thighs where they disappear. The gem on the front of her chaste, white lace panties glitters dully as she uses every part of her body that was created to sway men. "I... I won't do anything please... My head... it hurts so much.." She whimpers at the man, opening her golden eyes as much as she can to give a look of utter innocence. "And... I really need to pee... Please.. can I just... Go behind that tree?" She looks past the man at the forest behind him. She flutters her lashes weakly, her body slumped against the chair as if she couldn't even hold herself up enough to sit upright. "I don't... want to make a mess in here.."
Set beneath that lecherous gaze devouring her body with sight alone, Elanora would nearly, just nearly have what she'd wanted. Possibly, if what she wanted was to test her luck out there, in the grim darkness stretching beyond in the dawn hours - bereft of the sun's light in the ever-threatening nature of the forests laid outside. If only there hadn't been another. The sound of the whole operation of fixing the vehicle had been at pause for a while, and just over the meekish man's shoulders, she might spot a half-masked visage, brown eyes scalding into her, at the man so easily in her vices. Unadultrated rage collected in a mysterious captor. He doesn't speak, he reaches in, grabs the other, and pulls him along. "I gave you one fucking job," comes his eventual words...
Her door is left open, her captives, momentarily, distracted. There is a commotion outside, the sound of a wheezing breath. A thud, as if someone fell. That someone, is clearly getting beaten to a pulp right now, uncaring of the merchandise they went through whatever trouble they went through to get.
Elanora's golden eyes glance at the other man, keeping a look of weakness and innocent as they disappear from her door. She listens to the beating, her eyes glancing out at the windows, waiting for a moment when the man is reaching down to grab the other, listening for when the beating might stop soon and thus at least one of her captors is more disabled. Hearing it, the rustle of clothes, she dives through the door, making a mad dash down the path as she lifts her head, desperately trying to hear, trying to smell water in the lush forest that surrounds them. Her bare feet hurt as she runs as fast as she can, her breath panting as she desperately tries to get distance between her and her captors.
In the distraction of her captors, Elanora does dash out of the vehicle. As little of clothing as she is, she's out there, barefoot, running into the darkness without a care in the world, or driven by the need to survive whatever the men had in store for her. Given the syndicate penchant, nothing good. Bushes rustle, branches break on her skin, tangle in her hair, kept at bay only by held-together, bound hands while the thorns and oft-sharp twig or another cuts open her skin. All around, in the direction she decided to go, is night. Soon enough the shroud drowning out even the scream at the men behind her, who didn't dare to chase her into the boundless shadow with all of its myriad threats.
That sensation of being watched returns in the sightless run. Eyes, all around, from the trees, up in the canopy. In the eerie silence of it all, she has the attention of worse things out here. Something gleams, something drowns it out, there is the rushing sound of water in one direction, impossible to tell with the sounds all drowned in echo. Even her footfalls on the dry grass seems to echo -- or maybe it is another set of steps, closely trailing behind her own.
Elanora holds her bound hands out infront of her, trying to intercept as many branches as she can as they whip past her while she runs. Her breath pants out as she keeps going, trying to head in the direction of the waterfall, curving whenever it sounds more far away. Her eyes desperately search through the darkness as her ears try to pick out the noise of frogs, something aquatic. Anything aquatic. Her chest heavies as she rapidly reaches the end of her endurance, her golden eyes darting behind her every now and then to try and see if they were following her. And if not them. What was following her. Forced to slow down to catch her breath, she uses the chance to snag the rope around her wrist on a branch, trying to snap the rope where she had been chewing it.
As soon as she stops when the acrid burn in her muscles become unbearable, and her lungs feel the weight of her endurance waning, Elanora may feel the brunt of those eyes more. There is nothing out there. Or so it seems. That double footstep at her back stops immediately, as if it never was. Hunting, perhaps, whatever it is that was chasing her along in this decrepit place. The sound of water remains elusive, and she may see more than one branch broken - branches she's broken herself, as her eyes adjust slightly, but not by much.
The rope at her wrists, when put against that jagged wood jutting out, snaps in half -- but not by her own pressure applied. No, it is by the upward motion of the tree-arm before her, shifting with the wind. If only it were that simple. If only it were that easy. Groan of old wood captivates all sound, echoes strangely across the forest, dims every other noise of predators while that thick trunk slowly begins to bend, and bend, and what meets her eyes, the molten pools of gold, is the hollowed out front of a gnarly tree in the vague shape of a face, empty sockets for eyes, another gaping hole for a mouth, a gust of wind erupting through it at her face.
It castss her hair in disarray, before it begins to make a shrill, hungry sound.