Ita Shad 3

[23:27] She tilts her head to listen to the voice and it's demands, plucking the philter from Melora's hand. Not entreaties or requests. Demands. Ita has turned around to put away some of her tools, then puts her palms flat against the table. Out of sight of her patient her eye twinges.

She does get tired of it. So very tired. Day in, day out.

Being soft, being meek, shy, pushed about, commanded. Prey in a world of predators. There is no straddling that line. You fall in to either camp and that's that. But she's been invited to do harm, of all things.

"...You want me to...Undo the stitches? Mutilate your neck? On purpose?" she asks softly.

That's not something she's supposed to do. Non-violent, mousey Ita. Her fingers arch, braced against the table where she's moved her tools.

(Ita)
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[23:32] 'Must have some claws somewhere there, Spider, Hatchet, Ita.'

The names bouncing off of the walls as Melora sat upright, rubbing at her throat. Another bubble of blood spat from between her lips and left to drool onto the floor in a grotesque, gory dribble.

'I'm not asking you to kill me. Just.. Tear open my throat. With something... Claw like. Simple!'

The vibrations continued to ebb and flow seamlessly off of the walls. The distorted voice spoken in hushed utterances and odd cadences that seemed ethereal and inhuman.

'Can you? I wish for my new life to be... Away from my old. Stitching, scars- those types of tampering are evident. But something grotesque, like a drakanite's claw dragged across the throat, tearing it open...

A pause as she hunches forward a tad. Watching the back of Ita's head. Like a shark that'd taken in blood, she actually speaks. The hoarse rasp quiet, and pained.

"Aren't you tired... Of being nice... Sometimes.. Don't you just want to go.. Demon-shit sometimes..?"
(Nox)
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[23:39] "...No. I ain't got claws. You should've known me long enough for that by now."

Though she's hardly Mel anymore. Or Nox. She's neither of them any longer. She can't actually do such harm to someone...can she? There's a flick of her eyes around. There's nothing in reach that would produce the desired effect that she can see.

A shiver passes down Ita's spine. Something about the way the woman's voice echoes.

"Clawing and fighting ain't ever been my job. If you were expecting teeth and claws...think you might be disappointed."

She practically flinches as Nox rasps. That can't be healthy. Or comfortable.

"...It's part of my job. I do my work. I keep my head down."

Since her brother had left, this had been her lot. The life of quarry. Meek, modest.
(Ita)
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[23:46] "And aren't you sssick of it."

Oh that hurt, she was going to do irrevocable damage to her vocal cords- not that there hadn't already been damage. Yet that was the point. She wasn't done. Slowly she'd begin to slide off of the bed, standing upright as she begun a slow, trudging step towards Ita. Uneven, eerie even. Until she was close besides her.

"If I remember.. Right.. I remember a young girl, wanting mmmore than jj..jjust keeping her head down. Remember. We discuss-ssed it in this very room."

Blood curdled at her lips, spat onto the floor with a grimace.

"A disguise, to be more free... How much of Ita have I ever.. Truly known? Ss..sssomeone that got bullied, was quiet.. Jusst took it.."

The illusionist would whisper slowly as her head tilted to the side. "You have clawsss.. Juss-sst hard to see. Drag them out. Focuss.. On that, which is around you. Pluck.. At the sshadows in the dark."

A hand moves. Careful to rest upon Ita's wrist, and should the modest meek doctor allow it, Melora would begin guiding it to her throat.

"Than.. rip"
(Nox)
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[00:00] Of course she was. She could say she wasn't, maybe even with a straight face depending on the day. But that wasn't something someone of her station said. Another shudder, like a ripple, goes down the column of her back.

Ita's thoughts drift back to a particular lesson- more chiefly, a hunt. Even then, especially then, she'd made for a pitiful predator. Hiding and skulking is what she's known but never striking and closing her jaws around something's neck.

When she snaps back to reality Melora's already got her hand around her wrist, something the otherwise would've likely not been allowed. Never has she been a fan of being touched, with very few exceptions. A few light attempts to tug her hand back. Then she stops.

The prospect of doing harm to someone was daunting. Drawing honest to goodness blood from not only something, but someone that was capable of emotion and thought. Except Mel really didn't seem capable of emotion anymore, did she? Her eyes close.

She's back in the tunnels she loves so much again, in the deep, dark places of the earth where the sun doesn't reach. But instead of hiding, of skulking and scampering, she imagines herself prowling. A single discrepancy that makes all the difference.

There's plenty of shadows there to pull from, and Ita does. She's called on them before to cloak herself in darkness and hide. Instead she does just the opposite. They congeal around her hand as the very claws that Nox desires to see.

Then they grab. Then they rip. Stitches are torn free, along with chunks of meat and flesh. Her eyes? They never open.
(Ita)
[00:02] ** Ita has inflicted an injury upon Nox. ("Shadow Claws", "Something with wickedly sharp talons has torn into this woman's throat, clawing away tender meat and soft tissue. Their neck is a bloodied, lacerated pulp. A grisly sight to behold and even worse for the injured to endure.", "Temporary", "Duration: Long (12 days)") **
[00:08] "Sometimes it's nice... To submit.. To desires..."

Was all she'd managed to get out, before those long, shadowy claws suddenly tore into her throat. There was a pained, tensed gurgle as she stumbled back, eyes jerking open wide in surprise- oh it hurt. It hurt a lot. Stiches, flesh, she could feel the strain on her throat as she wheezes and tries to breath. The tears forming at the corners of her eyes and-

Oh the world was spinning. Quite wondrously so. Like a carousel- dizzy, dizzy... Black fades at the corners of her vision as she collapses into a heap against the floor.

Droplets of red oozing down the front of Nox's robe. Staining the dark patches with streaks of warm, fresh crimson.

Her fingers press against her throat, she should nab that elixir, end the pain there. But instead she opts for her chronomancy, as Melora takes a final breath...

The torn, pulped throat slowly mending itself of the more minor injuries and-

Gasp

'Ora' takes her first, wretched wheezing for air. Just healed enough to cease the pain. The spinning all encompassing pain as she hunches over the floor.

This time she's unable to speak. Any attempt is met with a pained garbled gurgling noise. As if she were mid-choking on her own blood. Her eyes blinking and shutting.

'Good job... See.. It wasn't that hard..'

The magic warps softly, subsiding soon afterwards as Melora tried to regain her barring's.
(Nox)
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[00:14] It's all in her head, all in her mind, and it is satisfying.

Until she hears the gasp of pain, the gargling, and the thud of a body onto cold, hard stone. Her eyes snap open and there's blood on Melora, on her torn open throat-

On her hands. Oh god, it's all over her hands. She can try to fool herself a second time in such a short span, convince herself it's something other than it is, but she knows it's blood. Human blood, that she'd drawn.

She's known for a long time that some day she might have to do harm. Ita hadn't expected it to come soon or even that she'd do it willingly. Her stomach does a somersault and she feels bile rise in her throat.

With a shaking, red-smeared hand she reaches for the bottle of healing potion, practically hyperventilating as she lunges forward to dump it onto the woman's throat. Errant drops splash everywhere, but most of it gets on the lacerations.

Ita is pale, speechless, and as wide-eyed as is humanly possible.
(Ita)
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[00:20] 'Calm.. Down'

Had she grown so desensitized to it? It was strange. Staring at the warm, lush color of red across Ita's fingertips. It bought her down memory lane- back towards that public execution of that dojo master. Something so, so far away. The way his head rolled after the sword came down against the neck of his throat.

A strange thing for her mind to go to, yet she blinks a few times. Soft hushing whispers rushing through the room. Eerie- yet meant to soothe. Possibly only serving to exacerbate it as she places both hands atop of Ita's own shaking ones. Most already sealing the wound shut- no stitches, just a scar.

Light pink, dwindling to subtle darker tanned. It looked old, as if it was something that'd happened years ago.

Not mere seconds prior.

"Sshh.. shh.. Deep breaths, Ita. Ita. Deep- Deep breaths."

There was no guilt in the action, she didn't even feel remotely bad that she may have traumatized a woman that was so...

So innocent. In many ways. It was surreal to the say the least.

Funny, in her eyes. Causing the subtlest hints of a curved smile to curl across chapped lips.

"Think to how it initially made you.. Feel. Close your eyes. I'm fine- you're fine. Everything is fine." It didn't feel fine, admittedly. Melora's digits still soaked in slick sticky crimson droplets. Further staining Ita's pale digits.

"Thank you. For helping me."
(Nox)
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[00:30] Ita's seen so much of humanity's ugly side. Day after day, year after year. She's seen lies, deceptions, swindlers, thieves, more than one murder right in front of her. But seeing her own hand covered in blood? It's several degrees apart.

She recoils immediately when Nox reaches for her hands. No, no no no. Ita's shoulders hunch, she shivers, and scrambles to her feet. The voices? They don't help. Not at all. Her heart races and her lungs are working overtime.

Surely that old shadow mentor would've shook their head to see her so rattled.

Without a doubt she's killed her fair share, if not more, of boars and lupins and other critters. This is still too different to compare. At the very least, a slim ray of a silver lining, she hadn't killed the woman.

It's not only the act that bothers her. That rush, that surge of shadow, had felt good. Where she'd been woefully bereft of power and its overt displays before, she'd took it in her hand and made it her own. That feeling bothers her too, just as much if not more so.

"...Let's. Let me put that arm on. I need to go."

Ita struggles to fully regain composure.
(Ita)