Post by Belinda Rohan/Adelaide Marx on Apr 8, 2014 17:56:11 GMT -5
Pacing back and forth, Belinda furrowed her brow and grumbled under her breath. She couldn’t take it anymore; his voice crawled under her skin making her want to scream. Something had to done be done about Marik, and soon. Torture and death seemed too simple, too merciful for the tragic love story of Ophelia and Marik. She was too devious and clever to take the easy way out. For weeks she had been listening to him complain, scream and whine and she was about to explode. Even gags didn’t help, he simply groaned through them just as loud, making them useless.
Storming out of the house they had been occupying, Belinda kicked the ground and grunted. Her black boot stuck in the mud and she hissed loudly. Despite their protests, she had not allowed any of her companions to join her outside, wishing to deal with these frustrations on her own. In her state she most likely would clock one of them upside the head, ruining their impressions of their own manhood. Looking up to the sky, she noticed the clouds were forming over her little slice of hell. Great, just what she needed.
Weeks ago she had been living it up; parties every night, beautiful gowns and lavish meals. All her life she had dreamed it to be that way, a life without begging, starvation and pain. Now, that was a memory, and before her stood too many choices. She must find a way to keep Marik in tow without driving her mad, and she must also find somewhere to run and make a life for herself. Murphy and the other men were faithful, staying by her side til the very end. Though some may think Belinda to be cruel, they saw something within her they admired and trusted.
Rubbing her temples with her fingers, she shivered as a cold breeze hit her bare arms. Turning back, she almost returned to retrieve a cloak and decided against it. Not wishing to face Murphy in such a state, she held her head up high and walked down the small path into the woods. The wind whipped through her long hair, and in the right light she may have been mistaken as an angel. A wolf in angel’s clothing of course. Daydreaming, she pondered her next move.
Killing Marik was not an option. But with all the travelling needed to get away from Kildenree and the outlying territories, she couldn’t risk him escaping and giving them away. So far, Belinda owed quite a few powerful people favors. She knew she couldn’t ask Merlin, she hadn’t repaid him yet. It might take some doing to get ahold of the others she had heard rumors of, and besides quite often evil was busy. Being without magic though, put her at a disadvantage. Her wins so far had been done through simple will power and outsourcing.
Belinda stopped and leaned on a tree, looking at the ground. Lowering herself down, she squatted, resting on her feet and picking up a branch that had fallen. Slowly she began to write in the dirt. ‘Anyone?’ Was all she wrote. Perhaps some higher… or lower being would recognize her plea.
Jafar of Agrabah
Storming out of the house they had been occupying, Belinda kicked the ground and grunted. Her black boot stuck in the mud and she hissed loudly. Despite their protests, she had not allowed any of her companions to join her outside, wishing to deal with these frustrations on her own. In her state she most likely would clock one of them upside the head, ruining their impressions of their own manhood. Looking up to the sky, she noticed the clouds were forming over her little slice of hell. Great, just what she needed.
Weeks ago she had been living it up; parties every night, beautiful gowns and lavish meals. All her life she had dreamed it to be that way, a life without begging, starvation and pain. Now, that was a memory, and before her stood too many choices. She must find a way to keep Marik in tow without driving her mad, and she must also find somewhere to run and make a life for herself. Murphy and the other men were faithful, staying by her side til the very end. Though some may think Belinda to be cruel, they saw something within her they admired and trusted.
Rubbing her temples with her fingers, she shivered as a cold breeze hit her bare arms. Turning back, she almost returned to retrieve a cloak and decided against it. Not wishing to face Murphy in such a state, she held her head up high and walked down the small path into the woods. The wind whipped through her long hair, and in the right light she may have been mistaken as an angel. A wolf in angel’s clothing of course. Daydreaming, she pondered her next move.
Killing Marik was not an option. But with all the travelling needed to get away from Kildenree and the outlying territories, she couldn’t risk him escaping and giving them away. So far, Belinda owed quite a few powerful people favors. She knew she couldn’t ask Merlin, she hadn’t repaid him yet. It might take some doing to get ahold of the others she had heard rumors of, and besides quite often evil was busy. Being without magic though, put her at a disadvantage. Her wins so far had been done through simple will power and outsourcing.
Belinda stopped and leaned on a tree, looking at the ground. Lowering herself down, she squatted, resting on her feet and picking up a branch that had fallen. Slowly she began to write in the dirt. ‘Anyone?’ Was all she wrote. Perhaps some higher… or lower being would recognize her plea.
Jafar of Agrabah