A thundering mass of flailing thorns ripped for the vital, living creature tossed to them as a gift from on high. They couldn’t puncture the vlince that hugged her from throat to hips, but they sipped greedily through the cotton on her legs where the trench coat fell open and tore mercilessly through her leather boots and gloves. One particularly vicious bramble drove into her exposed cheek like a fiery iron, seeking what blood she had to offer.
Alydia fought to turn as she fell, letting the vines slap and claw against her to slow her descent. Before she could do anything else, she needed her feet to point roughly groundward.
Rule twelve: never panic. Not even when an illusion which bore the guise of her father condemned her and threw her to her death. Not even when against an enemy who knew how to dig out every event in her life that troubled her conscience and kept her awake during the long, dark nights. Not even when those illusions had forced her to kill - again - a friend so dear he was like a piece of her own heart.
Rule five: be prepared. Against injury, against the unexpected, against ill fortune, and most especially against highly-advertised perils.
Rule nine: be flexible. No one cared about the pulpy loser of the bar brawl who would have had him if… People talked about the engineer stranded on an island with nothing but sand, some lemon trees, and a little copper wire who managed to create a crude distress call. Alydia hadn’t managed to steal the tree and its vines without incident. It didn’t matter if she looked undignified; she had no witnesses.
When the thief was oriented nearly the right direction, she reached out and grabbed one of the vines, screaming out when it impaled her hand. The vines crowded and clung to her, trying to rip her open and ingest her gory goodness. They tore at her thick curls and scraped at her protective coat. She reflexively put her free arm over her face, protecting her eyes from the merciless thorns.
For a second, her world was the deafening tangle of vine fighting vine for a chance at her and the slow weakness that crept through her limbs. Then deepest black erupted from her body. It raced up and down the vines and engulfed the tree. When it retracted, everything caught in its wake vanished.
Alydia crouched in one of the deep divots left in the tree's absence, catching her breath and grateful she'd purged earlier. Her skin was cold and clammy from blood loss and her stomach twisted unhappily. But she was alive. Uuthli settled on her hat brim, twittering anxiously.
“What do you propose to do now, ussta dalharil?” The Chief's tone and timbre were the same, but the inflection was cruel and lilting. “Fight your way back through the forest? You reek of blood, you won't make five steps.”
The former detective stood, icy eyes staring coldly at the face of her former mentor. “Don't call me your daughter, bitch.” She knew well to whom she spoke.
The Chief's expression changed from disdainfully cruel to actively malevolent, but the crimson cat burglar pressed on, reaching into a pocket to pull out a flask. It played upon her fingers, weaving and wobbling but never falling. “As far as my plans... how familiar are you with rule number two?”
The other being's expression curled into confusion and it opened its mouth to speak.
BAM!
A bright flash of light erupted from the ground in front of the Chief, and when his eyes cleared an instant later, there was no sign of the thief nor anything out of place to indicate where she'd gone.
~*~*~
“Rule number two: always have at least three avenues of escape.” Soft darkness surrounded Alydia. She stood in water up to her knees, and other than her own breathing and the occasional drip or splash, the world was silent. Even the Lindequalme needed water, and the thief had purposefully chosen to steal a tree right above one of the underground streams in accordance with that rule.
The journey back would be long and winding, and might occasionally require some creative theft, but few things called it home, which made it safe.
“Come, Uuthli. We have a little moth to locate and a delivery to make. After that... perhaps we'll get back in time for more fun. I've never stolen from a goddess before.”
Out of Character:
Submit Thread for Judgment
