{Broken and bleeding} ~open~

[bubble]

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, making the sky a watercolor of red and orange. There where no clouds that day, so when the heat finally started to drop, it was a relief to most students at the school. However, the female tossed off the path and out of view of the beauty of it, or the relief of the cooler heat, had no opinion. She has a tendency to be secret about herself, secret about what she is doing, where she is going, secret about her past,. She had been dancing, what she thought, alone, when It happened. She had led herself to a small area throughout the garden where she held herself and twirled, only for a few young girls to run by, accidentally striking her leg, causing her to collapse into a small crevasse off the path.

She pressed one thin hand to her forehead, a crease appearing between her brows. I might as well have died here before anyone notices I have gone missing she thought, striking her forehead, only to receive a throbbing ache in its place. She knew she had likely broken her leg or something, because she could not will her body to stand. Used to this situation she would have cried for help, but doing so for almost an hour had tired her voice. She felt the pain rip up and down her leg; the thorns prick her side, and the earth at her back. Why not use magic to heal herself? Why not use it to help her? Good question. Ana hadn't known why, but she'd made a stupid promise to herself not to use it in the gardens. Unknowingly, she had laced magic in her words so she couldn’t use magic in the gardens. She did want to be normal, but that old woman had to do what she did...

She remembered the first time she had broken her leg, getting on a horse. Being as stubborn headed and strong-willed as Ana is, she put one foot in the stirrup and lifted the other one over, only to hear the sickening crack as her leg dropped onto the horses back instead of the other stirrup. She fell to the ground with a thud, but she was lucky, both her legs fell to the ground but her friend had grabbed her under the shoulders, saving her from breaking her neck. Even though it had scared her so badly, once she was better she got right back up and rode that horse. She’d dealt with more painful injuries than that one, or the one she had now, and she’d learned she could almost block out the pain, feeling only the discomfort of the misplaced bone. She defiantly didn’t wan to die here though, so she had to make an attempt. Rapping her head for more ideas she realized she was barely able to reach above the ditch, she placed her hand there, and called for help one more time. HELP!


(( '-.- Too short Dx ))

[Elyssa]

((I think it was lovely. :DD))

What a wonderful evening.
It was the perfect temperature. Those bratty children weren't infesting the wonderful garden. The air was pleasant to smell, intoxicated with the smell of plant life. And to top all of it off, the sun was setting. It was a very beautiful scene.

A woman stalked the path between the flowery wall, blood red dress swaying with her every move. Black swirls that were laced into the cloth seemed to writhe like snakes. The dress brushed the ground slightly, hiding her black high heeled shoes. You would think that that sort of foot wear wouldn't be the best for a stroll. But shouldn't the deportment teacher be able to walk around in high heels without breaking her neck?
Darla smiled dreamily, her head falling back with her eyes closed. It was relaxing to be away from the class room every once in a while. No, she wouldn't give up her job for the world. But changes were good for the soul, even ones that may or may not be dark. She wouldn't be out for long. Just until the sun went down, then she'd return inside. Okay, maybe a little longer then that. But not too long.

The woman looked up at the call for help, her eyes glittering with annoyance at the intrusion on her peaceful time. Picking up her skirts, she half ran to where the sound had come from. Then almost passed it. Fingers? That was interesting. A little lamb, stuck in a ditch. Darla smirked, leaning over to look at the girl. Analouise Haansson, one of those girls she taught.
"Tsk, tsk, Miss Haansson, what have you gotten yourself into?" Darla asked in mock sympathy, grinding her heel into the girl's fingers. Too bad she left the letter opener behind. Oh well.
She looked into the girl's eyes. Then gestured around flamboyantly with a hand. "At this time, you shouldn't have been slinking about anyway. Looks like you almost learned your lesson." She added a stomp to Analousie's fingers, flashing down to grab one of her arms in case she fell. This dress was too exquisite to get dirtied.

"Now don't go falling around just any where. You never know if some one like me would be able to help you."
Amusement drove itself through her veins, making her smile widely. This was so fun. And it was when she was already hurting, so it would make this more enjoyable then the usually she got. She was so fragile. It felt strange as Darla crushed the bones. Maybe she was stronger today. The idea thrilled her, making her giggle childishly.

"What do you wish to do next, Miss Haansson?" She asked in a calm tone, tilting her head. Awww, and this girl was going to think she had a choice. Darla would maim her until she was bored. That's how it worked. And in this labyrinth, is was going to be easier to do without being caught. She laughed softly, digging her fingers into this girl's skin.

[bubble]

((Thank you ^^))

Just her luck, of all the people it could have been it had to be her. She could tell the disgust showed on her face, her eyes narrowing and her mouth caught in an angry snarl, and hoped she noticed. Just before she could comment however, ‘Ms. Payne’ as she was called, dug the heel of those dreadful black shoes into her hand. Ana’s finger on her not so broken hand might have twitched, but otherwise she showed no signs of what otherwise would have been a painful greeting. The laugh that echoed out of the scornful teachers’ mouth sickened her, and If she could, and if she was standing, and if… she wasn’t so weak, Analouise would have slapped Darla Faith right then and there. Unfortunately, Darla was a teacher, she was older, and much stronger, and given the situation that would not be the right move.

The seemingly helpless girl glared at Darla, then she tried to relax her muscles and build up the brick wall that stopped the wave of pain that overcame her. She then turned her head away, and feeling the nails dig into her arms whipped her good arm around and grabbed Darla’s arm, pulling her self out of the ditch and lying on the ground, panting. She was quite the sight, one side of her dress was torn and bloody, the other side creased with some dirt clinging to it. Her face covered in scratches and her eyes wide and dilated. She held herself up with the one good hand and arm she had, with her legs sprawled out, still slightly hanging over the ditch, her other hand laying in her lap. That is what I want to do Ma’m she said, a mocking grin playing with her lips. She started building the wall to block pain, realizing that Darla was cruel, she prepared for the worst. Would she be left here, Broken and bleeding? She did not know or care. The sadistic woman could do as she wishes, with magic in her veins and years of torture from her condition. What could Darla do?

[Elyssa]

Darla smirked, this girl's subtle expression of hate amusing her. She received this look most of the time, it had become a frequent expression in her life. Was she supposed to feel threatened because of a weak girl's expression? I don't think so. She had the upper hand. Who was the one in a ditch?

Ugh.
Apparently no one.

The woman growled as Ms.Haansson pulled herself up. By using HER arm. That wasn't fair. It was only so she didn't have to go down there herself to pull her out. Then shove her in again. Obviously she wasn't following on the torture and maiming plan. This simple would not do. Although pushing her down again wouldn't be the best of ways. She had already experienced that.
"My, my, aren't you in an awful state." Darla said, crossing her arms. This student needed quite the medical assistance at the moment.
"Why, this especially looks painful." She said, jabbing her foot into where she believed the source of the blood was coming from. "And your dress appears to be ruined. Unless you know an extremely good tailor." Darla added, giggling. Her eyes looked into Ana's eyes, her own dancing with amusement. The scent of blood made her feel excited. "No one here to help you out, huh?" She asked, looking about as if she were looking for her savior. "No one to hear you scream but me." Darla whispered, grabbing a fistful of the girl's hair.
"So there isn't a need to scream for help, is there?"

She pulled her away from the edge of the drop off, throwing her onto the path. "You know, this brings back some rather unplesant memories. So I'm afraid that this will hurt you more than usual." She paused, looking at Ana. "I'm lying through my teeth. I'm not afriad for you at all!" She laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the rose covered walls. It was a lovely sight for her. Blood, hate, and pain all wrapped into one. she had perfect timing to come out for a stroll today.

Oh, what a fantastic evening.

[Javert]

Flowers were nothing special—they were merely pinpricks[/color] of color splashed upon the world's canvas, as ubiquitous here as grains of sand in a desert. Silly girls twined them in their hair or created chains to bind them to their true loves, once they determined their identity by plucking petals or wishing on weeds. She recognized the sentimental value, especially since her arrival in England, but did not understand it, nor have any wish to. Aishe Vukovic, despite, admittedly, being many unfavorable things, was not a silly girl.

It was sometimes whispered among the braver, stupider boys of the camp that, if she didn't look so much like one, no one would be able to discern her as female at all. The bottle of rakia—a brandy from her homeland—currently at her lips further blurred her femininity, for, gypsy or not, the title of alcoholic was not for a lady to bear. No one had ever outwardly accused her of being addicted to the stuff, but Aishe had accepted her burden years ago, and it was rare to see her without a tankard or a bottle or a jar within arm's or lips' reach. Why? It tasted good, she would quip to anyone who inquired; if pressed for further excuses—it burned her throat and warmed her up and reminded her of Serbian summers, it honed her right hook, it was a perfect companion for two black eyes. Yet even her Cheshire grin was unable to mask the true reasons buried beneath empty excuses, and even the dance of her eyes tangoed treacherously with the sight of empty bottles.

A stupid girl, but at least not a silly one.

She sat on the outskirts of the camp, leaning forward to allow one forearm to rest on her thigh and the other hand the benevolent host for the rakia bottle. Behind her rambled clumps of brightly-colored fabric, tents that grew as abundantly as, and remained in place just as stubbornly as, weeds. Before her, neat and orderly and boring as hell, lay the school's gardens. How fitting, thought Aishe, forced into contemplation as opposed to speech since more brandy was scalding her throat, since the students that emerged from that school were just the same as those damned flowers. Proper English society remained a mystery to her, and she intended to don no hunter's cap nor smoke any pipe to solve it, for she knew enough to be revolted by it. People required life, and life required freedom, and no freedom would be found within the cage of those stone walls—

But a life was struggling to make itself known in those gardens. Aishe primarily blamed a distant call for help upon the rakia, doubtfully eying the bottle's crystalline interior, before she was struggling to her feet and questing forward into the flower beds. It was probably some gypsy chit lost among the blooming labyrinths, but Aishe had no love for the children of the camp, and considered a chance to roll up her sleeves and drag one by the ear a delightful opportunity. Bottle still in hand, she sampled the sweet vestiges of alcohol still on her lips, and yelled, lazily, “Hej! Imbecil! Poðite sa mnom!” The gears in her brain began churning enough to remind her that she was the lone Serbian speaker in the camp, and she rolled her shoulders, preparing to issue threats in English or whatever language it took for her to be immediately obeyed, when she rounded a corner and saw a feminine Red Death looming over what Aishe immediately knew to be her victim, alerted not only by their respective body language, but also the laughter issuing from the standing female—it could be described most accurately as maniacal.

Aishe resisted the urge to grab the woman by the hair and tilt her head back until she could spit in her face. Instead, she squared her shoulders, lengthened her strides, and, dismissing politeness for promptness, tapped the red-clad woman on the shoulder with the bottle still in her hand, and prepared a smile to greet her with when she turned round, until a fist would be required to take its place in the welcoming committee. “Hey,” she drawled, tilting her head, “this seems like an irrational place for a hospital, eh?”

((I hate this post. so much. I'm sorry.))[/font][/size][/color]

[bubble]

((No no, I think it was just fine :] ))


My, my, aren’t you in an awful state

Analouise glared at Darla’s remark, her nails digging into the dirt (well in one hand that is) her mouth caught halfway between a smirk and a snarl. She moved her head slightly, the red curls sliding from her shoulder to fall against her back, as she pushed her chin up in Darla’s direction, her eyes narrowing. She had not prepared for what happened next, the painful jab in her side catching her off guard. She felt one eye close, her teeth grind, and her good hand clutched her side, the pitiful yelp escaping her cracked lips. Seeing that that was the hand holding her up, she fell to the ground with a thump. Dust flew into her eyes, and she felt them start to stream, growling at herself that it looked like she was crying.

Willing herself to move, she managed to move her hand back so the weight of her body was on her shoulder. The blood on her hand now soaked into the ground, the throbbing pain ensuing onto her side. She glared at the ground, and then brought her sights on Darla’s laughing face. When Darla grabbed her and flung her onto the path, she fell face first, and gasped as she landed on leg in a weird angle. She snapped her head back to face Darla, and was about to swear at her, when she saw a glimpse of a shadow of a figure. She immediately shut her mouth and her eyes widened as the gypsy strolled up behind Darla and tapped her on the shoulder.

Ana bit her cracked lips and felt a stream of blood trickle down her chin, a single drop falling onto the broken hand in her lap. You couldn’t have came a little sooner? she said, on the verge of mocking laughter. Knowing that this woman, who she had almost mistaken for a man, judging by her gait and stance, and that she carried a bottle in her hand, was going to save her, she stopped herself. Ana then felt light-headed. She stared hard at her hand to try to calm the spinning that ensued, realizing that she was losing a lot of blood. She clutched her side again, falling onto the ground, and saw the black around her eyesight beginning to dim, it wavered as she forced her eyes to stay open, but she could not block it much longer. Dammit she swore, and stared at Darla through the dimming light.

[Elyssa]

((And I think you both under appreciate yourselves. Obviously you are better than me. >>))

Darla chuckled at the fact Ana fell on her face. No grace at all, even in pain. That's rather sad. The blood staining the ground made her frown. "There you go, making a big mess!" She said, saying the sentence in a tone that a mother would use on a misbehaving child. Beating some one so helpless. It reminded her of that brat child Archard. Those were good times, they were. It was a pity they had to end.
Now why was she reminiscing about the past while a perfectly good toy sat in front of her now?
The woman was about to kick the girl again when some one spoke behind her.

This seems like an irrational place for a hospital, eh?

Oh, the words that she wanted to say as soon as she turned around to see the gyp behind her. First of all, why in the hell was this girl drinking that wretched substance. Second of all, why had she even dared to touch her. Even though it had been a tap on the shoulder. The parasite touched her. It was disgusting. These girls stained the air with filth, and their pain would be the only way to remove it.

Darla growled under her breath, remaining in a composed state. "It also seems like an irrational place for a drunk." She snapped, glaring hard at the girl. Her fun was ruined. Now that this bug was here, she wouldn't get to cause pain to the crippled girl on the ground. It was rather maddening. Well, if she planned it right, she could flee. That wasn't the most courageous move, but better than being caught by yet another passerby. Or if she was lucky she could knock the two out. THEN flee.

Ha, the idea of leaving the two injured, in the night, and knocked out was very hilarious. More appealing then fleeing without a fight, actually. "You know, I never really cared for intrusions, miss. So if you could run your little way home, that would be," She paused, smirking. "Lovely."
Hands on her hips, she stared down the gypsy in front of her, eyes threating her to make a dangerous move.

Then turned around for a moment. "And don't even think about moving, girlie." She said, pointing in Ana's direction. There was no point to fighting to maim something if it fled, was there? Darla kicked some dirt in her direction before turning back to the dratted intruder.

Err.
But...

When she turned around to face the intruder, the awkwardly positioned leg of Ms.Haansson caught on her foot, making her fall onto the blood stained ground. She yelped, hands now covered in the warm substance. She had just tripped. Over her own victim.

And she calls herself a deportment teacher!!!!

[Javert]

((warning: aishe is very, er, crude. I apologize for talk of bodily fluids and excessive swearing. xD also, sorry about the length; I really, really miss writing aishe. as if you couldn't tell.))

A memory was studded into Aishe's mind like a star in the night sky; upon her arrival at the scene, it had slowly loosened itself, until now it fell, gleaming, into the forefront of her mind. She had been traveling by the Danube, years ago, when she saw a hazy silhouette several yards away. As she drew closer, she discovered that it was a man, looming over a motionless shape with a plank of wood in his outstretched hand. The shape was a dog. Its flanks heaved to obscure and reveal its fragile ribcage in a rapid staccato rhythm as spittle was heaved from its throat to fleck its lolling piebald tongue and furred snout. Its eyes rolled to stare deep into her own, imploring her for mercy, as the man swore and prepared his wooden weapon for another strike.

A deep fury ignited within her. That dog reminded her of something that she did not wish to name.

For that reason, she kept walking, and did not look back.

She would never forgive herself for succumbing to such blatant, blinding pride. Therefore, as the shape before her shed its cloak of stillness, or had its thin fabric dissolved by the thread of blood painted on her chin, Aishe looked at it, unflinchingly, square in the face, as if she were staring so fearlessly at something else entirely. When the broken girl made a mocking comment, Aishe merely shrugged an apology, reserving a bitter comment for the death persona before her. The girl had reason for bitterness, after all—a quick inspection, glancing over the shoulder of the woman in red, revealed a pale, bleeding ghost of a girl who would fade away to evanescence if not treated immediately.

Fighting the urge to take another swig—the girl would need it more than she did--, Aishe made to take a casual step towards the bleeding girl, but was stopped by the woman's snarl as she whirled around to face her. “Ah,” said Aishe, warmly, in response, “Govno yedno.” The assumption that the woman would not be able to translate the insult curved Aishe's lips into a smirk, but she forged them by the heat of her will into a counterfeit smile that aimed to infuriate. “Not at all,” she countered. There was a dangerous glint in the steel of this woman's eyes, like the light of the moon highlighting bloodstains upon a blade, yet Aishe raised her chin and stared directly into them. It was not unusual for her adversaries to be significantly taller than she, and Aishe almost automatically adjusted her stature to accommodate for the height difference. Not bothering to protest her current state of inebriation, Aishe instead continued, nonchalantly, resting the bottle on one popped hip, “A drunk would obviously enjoy the solitude if they needed a place to vomit.” Her gaze flickered obviously to the woman's dainty high-heels, as if that would be the exact location Aishe would select for any ejection of bodily fluid, before she smiled back up at her, contrary as a cat.

(This deportment teacher would have to torture her for decades before Aishe resembled anything close to a lady.)

“Now, now, I couldn't think of doing a thing like that,” countered Aishe with a shake of her head as the woman pointedly implied for her to get the hell out. Catching the unspoken threat that still managed to convey volumes in the woman's eyes, Aishe's eyes returned a mocking glint of their own, as she said, arms outstretched, the rings on her fingers catching the sunlight, “I never cared for communicating with bastards, either, and, yet, here we are!” Lowering her voice slightly, as if sharing a secret with a trusted friend, she conferred, “I would have called you a bitch, my friend, but that would imply that you have sons, and I would wish that fate upon no man.” Straightening again, she felt laughter frothing at her throat but kept it at bay, then swallowed it entirely as the woman turned to kick a cloud of dirt into the girl's face. This scene was far too familiar to the one she had witnessed years ago, and fury began a slow boil in her stomach. Her hands closed into fists as she shifted her weight to her toes, preparing to launch, when the woman bit the dust herself, quite literally. Even anger could not trump amusement, and Aishe laughed at the improbable scene before her, shaking her head; stranger things had happened, and she had learned the hard way that what went around, came back around.

Mentally saluting the deity that was karma, assuming that the fallen woman would be sacrifice enough, she stepped over the lady in red to tend to the bleeding girl. Nearly as an afterthought, she slammed her foot into the small of the red-clad woman's back, and kept it there as she squatted beside the other. Declining to utter obvious questions—what happened, how are you feeling—that would do neither of them any good, she instead got straight to the point, asking, uncommonly serious, “Where should I take you? If you don't like me carrying you, I'll leave you here, so don't bother putting up a fight.” She then held out her precious rakia bottle. "Drink this. You'll thank me later, aye?"

[Tsubasa]

Flowers were easy.

There were so many things in life that were difficult to take care of, difficult to sustain their life. Humans, more or less, were the worst, and animals came second. But out of all the things in life plants were the most simpilist of things to grow. They required only a bit of attention, did not any sort of love, and were a nice bit of company now and then. A main facotr was teh equisite beauty of the darling things, all lined up perfectly with different colors and shapes mingled together, creating a varied crowd. Also, if one might remember, they didn't speak. They didn't make noise, they didn't complain if something was wrong, and they didn't whine for something they needed. No No, not at all, they were quite nice creatures, Cain thought, the best of the living kind. And he had dealt with the living much longer than most.

The only dreadful cause was that the poor chaps died so quickly, only just after they had given in to their full bloom. It was funny, the demon had never felt grief over the death of some pitiful human, but when a beautiful flower wilted away and its petals dropped crumbled to the floor, he couldn't help but feel a twang of remorse. So as it was his job as the groundskeeper, out of all his required duties from tending to the horses to cleaning the graveyard, the garden had to be his favorite. That is, when there weren't squabbling runny-nosed brats tearing out the beauties from their roots of life hoping to impress some other gender or create an 'accessory' from a living thing. It was disgusting. It was also much painful to watch. As each flower or plant was ripped from mother earth he could hear their screams of pain and grief, and then the deathly silence that followed after.

A curse of being a demon from the Realms, it was.

So when he found two students and what looked like a teacher bleeding all over his lovely friends and ruining the sanctuary, he couldn't help but feel a spark of anger rising up. Dropping the shovle that had been grasped in his right hand, and the watering spout in his other, Cain stomped over to the women with a fierce presence that almost couldn't be ignored. When he came into view, he saw the woman draped over the ground like a ragdoll, and couldn't help but feel his anger die down to pity. Looking over the other two, he bent down to a crouch, lightly grasping the woman's shoulder.

"Just what was going on here?" he noticed the bruises of both student and teacher. Thanking that the other girl was already tending to the student, he made it his priority to take care of the teacher. "Was there a fight? Please explain yourselves girls because harming a teacher could get you suspended, if not expelled."

Sliding an arm under the ruby dressed lady, he lifted her up a bit so that her back was almost straight.

"Are you alright? Can you walk?"

(sorry so short D:)

[bubble]

And don’t even think about moving girlie
Slumped in the arms of the gypsy, Ana almost laughed,
Go anywhere? I can’t walk! she growled through her clenched teeth.

How could Darla make such a comment? The thought of her going anywhere was clearly out of the question. Why had the gypsy helped her anyways? They are very… she did not know what word could describe them, but she still did not understand. She was getting tired of the situation so her mind wandered. She thought of the realms, how great it would be at this moment not to be in pain, and wishing she could be there.

Pulling a hand in front of her face as Darla kicked a cloud of dirt near her eyes she started to cough.
Son of a bitch she said, another bout of coughing spasms filling her lungs. She was lucky she did not have asthma, her relatives did have a history of it, but she did always have slightly weaker lungs then others. She pulled in a shallow breath and started to speak, only for the unexpected to happen.
Because of her position, her leg was sticking out while the rest of her body was scrunched together. She really did not expect Darla to trip over her foot, she had not stuck her foot there on purpose, its just what her broken leg did, she guessed. Cringing as the heel rolled over her ankle, she managed a mocking grin at the felled deportment teacher, before she started to cough harder.

Squinting at the Gypsy, she managed a weaker smile.
Better take me before I’m a dead weight on you. She said, her voice falling to a whisper. Closing her eyes for a moment, and taking the deepest breath she could manage, she gulped down the substance in the bottle. She relaxed slightly, hanging her head loosely.

Her head shot up as she heard a disgruntled voice. Squinting, she realized it was the caretaker. I. Didn’t. Touch. Her. she managed to say, her voice cracking several times. She lifted up a portion of her shirt to show where all the blood was coming from. Do. You think. I did. This. Myself? she said, she would have said more, but her vision started to spin.

Weakly grabbing the gypsies arm for support she leaned toward her. I think we should go. she whispered, giving a sidelong look at the caretaker. The man scared her, and she just wanted to get out of here and in this situation, she defiantly had had enough.