Chapter Text
Taurie stepped forward, the knife she had held no longer within her once white-knuckled grasp. Her raised arms slowly slinked down beside her, hands held out as she stared blankly into her palms. She felt it. She knew she had being taken far beyond the bleed. It was a familiar. The mist of the black fog looming all around her. That familiarity quickly faded, as she knew where she was. The black Talon's realm, yet what lay beyond was lost to her.
she looked down at her hands.tremors running down her arms, clammy as fear settled in. Fear, and doubt. she had been loyal. Devoted! Why was she taken beyond the bleed? Had her brief hesitation before taking her first life led to this...?
Her breath, shaky and uncertain. 'Had i truly not been devoted enough', she thought. Her mind racing to find an explanation. She hadnt even notice the black fog slowly pull back to reveal a path forward. The fog still lingered close to the ground, ready to pounce if given an opportunity.
She was spiraling, she had to get a grip. Calm, serenity. Recite a mantra, repetition leads to routine, and routine leads to familiarity. 'Ive been through worse, I can handle this!' She thought to herself. In the distance, a campfire acted as a lighthouse, a beacon beckoning her toward 'safety', whatever it would look like in a place like this.
She wandered forward, into what could only be known as the unknown. One foot infront of the other. She heard whispers within the fog as she traveled toward the fire. Unintelligible stories of those she was trapped with. It was an assault on the senses, yet through it she grit her teeth in defiance.
These stories, all at once, overwhelmed by what could have been; or had already been. The whispers ramping up, becoming louder and louder before being whisked away, as Taurie was so very close to the campfire. Respite lay ahead, no time to led distractions.
She sat down amidst the people among the campfire, their voices equally hushed the moment she arrived just like the whispers before. The Black Talon's taunt, telling her something she couldn't understand. Her mind being wracked against itself in an attempt to recall, to understand what couldn't be understand.
The survivors of the fog would look to each other, if only for a fleeting moment. They looked at Taurie, some concerned, others curiosity and caution in tow. Her strange markings, the robes she wore, and the silver medallion coins chiming softly as she took her spot on the ground. Her deep maroon and mustard yellow robe's chest illuminated by the weakily flickering fire.
She had attempted to wash away the fear through a distraction, watching the fire dance. It danced elegantly against the black backdrop of the forrest. Her markings made clearer amidst the fading light of the campfire. The ground had been moist and, as expected, cold. She rubbed her hands together, before warming herself with the campfire's respite. This had revealed a bauble dangling from the wrappings climbing up from her forearms and hands. What looked to be made of rope and steel. Its purpose had only been known to Taurie, And Taurie alone.
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[K.K.]
This was a warning worn well, be weary of her. The first to note Taurie's markings, was a Young man with pale white hair. His posture slightly slouched, his breath teetering between calm and panicked. It was clear he didn't know where he was, nor what those around him were saying. Language barriers had already been established as he silently listened to those around him talk, of what happened before finding themselves in such a peculiar place, from what he assumed. The tone was all he could go off of, which left much to interpretation.
The last group he had encountered that had anything similar to markings was Aogiri, Those markings were a dead giveaway that this person could be apart of a 'cult'. The markings, far from the symbol of Aogiri, was foreign to him. Yet still, caution covered his face. His eyebrows faintly furrowed, eyes squinted slightly.