Maladicta/Maladict

mal and shalla

2007-07-16T18:45:26Z

Mal's out by the lake. Practically lives out there, now, it's summer and the air is warm. She likes being outdoors somewhere ungutted by fire or war.

So she has her back to a tree, humming under her breath and flipping a strand of grass in her fingers. The cat is hunting moths somewhere nearby, but she's content to watch the flickering stars.

not_one_drop @ 2007-01-12T22:28:00

2007-01-13T05:28:35Z

Orion's been spending more time cooped up in the bar, now that it's winter. And he's really, really not happy about it. He's taken to bothering patrons, chasing their shoelaces about and hunting small scraps of paper.

So when he takes off from the room, one day, Mal's obliged to chase after him and make sure he doesn't get up to any mischief.

So far, Orion's winning the race.

not_one_drop @ 2006-11-04T20:09:00

2006-11-05T03:09:19Z

So, it's another day in the bar. And even if Mal's just a little confused that Sands doesn't seem to be anywhere, she doesn't show it.

Just takes her coffee upstairs, curls up on the unmade bed, and stairs into space while the cat purrs at her ankles.

not_one_drop @ 2006-09-07T19:30:00

2006-09-08T02:31:16Z

Sands-

Gone home. Back in a day or so. Watch the cat for me?

-Mal

OOC - Photos!

2006-09-01T02:06:51Z

Because LJis being a whore and not letting me upload my photos on my mun journal, I will upload them here and then link them from silverpenlight!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Type

Me and Rachelle's forehead. Pls to be ignoring the koala's ear and my redeye.

Me and Rachelle being cheerfully tactile. Yes, I know my boobs are on the verge of being in the open and that I look like a racoon. Shhhh.

Again, please to be igoring koala ear.

not_one_drop @ 2006-08-29T20:00:00

2006-08-30T03:03:28Z

Mal wakes up on her own, as it turns out, three hours later and curled on Parker's bed next to Sands. She wakes slowly and not entirely happily, cursing under her breath and stretching abused muscles.

Glances over at Sands, frowns, and lightly shakes his shoulder.

"Wake up."

not_one_drop @ 2006-08-27T14:53:00

2006-08-27T21:55:52Z

It's a little after dusk, and Mal's sitting in her room next to the window, hands wrapped around a cooling cup of coffee. Maybe thinking. Maybe waiting.

Maybe neither.

not_one_drop @ 2006-08-20T13:13:00

2006-08-20T20:17:23Z

It's morning.

Mal's in a bed.

Mal's in a bed with someone else.

Mal's in a bed with Sands.

"...morning."

not_one_drop @ 2006-08-19T18:25:00

2006-08-20T02:04:52Z

Mal's spent time in her room already, very determinedly not crying, but there's a point when she just can't do it alone anymore. So she wanders down the hall, before stopping at a familiar door.

Hesitates, then knocks.

not_one_drop @ 2006-08-16T12:23:00

2006-08-16T19:26:06Z

The door opens to outside. The landscape is hilly, and covered in mud and a few stunted trees, although there's a forest in the distance. Ruined buildings in various states of collapse are all around Shalla and Mal, casting weak shadows. Behind them is the half-wrecked Duchess Inn, and Mal sticks her head in the door.

"Polly? I'm going for a walk. Stay here."

Closes the door, and offers a lopsided, not-quite-right grin.

"Welcome to Borogravia."

OOM - Letters

2006-08-03T23:12:41Z

Ramon -

I'm calling in the debt. I saved your life, now it's time for you to repay that. Sands is in trouble, and he's gone. I really don't know where. Dworkin took him and ~~Santino~~ Salvatore after they'd been fighting, but only Salvatore came back. I'm asking for you to do everything and anything to help me find him and bring him back to the bar.

When this is over, it'll have been paid in full. Let me know when we can talk.

-Mal

not_one_drop @ 2006-07-25T18:32:00

2006-07-26T01:34:42Z

Mal's feeling vaguely insomniac. She's been lying awake for a couple hours now, thinking over anything she can think of. Can't seem to get to sleep.

And it's cold.

And Sands has the bed.

Bugger.

not_one_drop @ 2006-07-17T18:45:00

2006-07-18T01:45:44Z

Just because. I'm interested to see what I'll get.

1. Naughty Mal.
2. Happy Mal.
3. Nervous Mal.
4. Angsty Mal.
5. Poorly-Sick-And-Dying Mal.
6. Horny Mal.
7. Pregnant Mal.
8. Excited Mal.
9. Book-Reading Mal.
10. Dancing Mal.
11. Jealous Mal.
12. Kidnapped Mal
13. Caring Mal.
14. On-Her-Knees Mal.
15. Obedient Mal.
16. Losing-Her-Cherry Mal.
17. Naive Mal.
18. Shocked Mal.
19. Greedy Mal.
20. Drunk Mal.
21. In a tree Mal.
22. Flying Mal.
23. Bathtime Mal.
24. War Mal.
25. Exhausted Mal.
26. Falling-Down-A-Lot Mal.
27. Well-shagged Mal.
28. Kickass Mal

(x-posted to silverpenlight

OOC - Meme

2006-07-03T17:20:42Z

Because it's been a while since this one went by, it's the return of ask Mal anything/tell me something I don't know about her. Because it's fun.

not_one_drop @ 2006-07-02T20:21:00

2006-07-03T03:21:20Z

http://community.livejournal.com/ways_back_room/2350889.html

not_one_drop @ 2006-06-27T19:44:00

2006-06-28T02:45:34Z

Her room is about the same as usual - window half open, pillowcase covering the bathroom mirror, a half-empty and carefully stoppered bottle of antiseptic peeking out from beneath the couch.

OOM - Day 8

2006-06-25T17:58:43Z

The eighth day is home.

They get up with the sun, not daring to speak as they trudge through the familiar, wet ground on their way home. The footsteps trailing away behind them mark where they have already been, and in a fanciful moment Mal imagines the steps going all the way back, back to the cold stone buildings and bloodied fields of that nameless village. They walk to the bridge, where the man that Polly recognizes and Mal doesn’t raises an eyebrow but lets them through. Mal has never been to the Duchess, never been to Munz, and thinks that it is just another village, poor and dirty, sowed with the salt tears of a thousand weeping mothers and children. Polly watches the sky and points out an eagle wheeling far above.

They walk, as if in a dream, because this is home (for Polly, anyway), and far ahead Mal can see the sign of an inn, and the raised brown roof of the Duchess. Polly lets out something halfway in-between a laugh and a cry, and runs forward, half-stumbling, but runs and runs and Mal lets her, feeling something like envy. She walks, watches Polly hammer on the door, sees the door open and Polly frown, half-stepping forwards and then back again.

There’s no smoke rising from the houses, and Mal frowns, stepping up the pace a little, and as Polly vanishes inside the door, Mal catches up. She opens the door, but is somehow not surprised when she steps through into somewhere very different.

not_one_drop @ 2006-06-24T17:18:00

2006-06-25T00:18:53Z

The seventh day is waiting.

They get up early, and set off across the last few miles before home, walking fast and not speaking for fear of breaking the spell. The clouds dark across the horizon, pushed by angry winds, and birds tumble and fall in mid-air, catching the last drifts of wind, borne upwards only to be sent plunging once more. They eat the mice, and the last of the grouse, and then bow their heads against the wind and pace forwards. The insects are silent, the air full of warning for a storm. Mal sets the pace, fast and worried. If the storm comes, they won’t make it home today.

It comes in the afternoon, crashing thunder and lightning splitting the air. They shelter as best they can in the low scrub, and Mal tries to shove the storm away, but the air resists. It’s full of magic, magic that combats her efforts and the wind and rain and thunder rage on. Mal holds Polly close and whispers stories into her ear, as they both wait for the end to the hell outside.

It takes far too long, long enough that the sun darkens before it finally stops. Mal shakes her head in response to the unspoken question, and Polly turns away to clean the horse-bow, head bowed, back tight and tense. Mal can’t make a fire, the wood is too damp to catch fire, so they huddle up together under the long branches of the trees and pretend they’re not both awake and waiting for the first light of dawn.

not_one_drop @ 2006-06-24T17:17:00

2006-06-25T00:18:13Z

The sixth day is hope.

Mal and Polly wake early, wake with the sun and the promise of a new day. They enter the forest within an hour and are rewarded with a female grouse sitting on a nest. They kill her and cook the meat, while eating the eggs raw and laughing. The grouse is healthy, plump, and the meat is good. The eggs are hard to swallow and Polly giggles at the face Mal makes when she downs her own. They eat out of the pot and flick broth at each other, before packing up and setting out. The food has given them back energy, and they laugh and talk and joke, running a few steps every now and then, doubling back, playing in the light. It’s a nice feeling, really, and one that Mal treasures. The sun is less and enemy and more a watchful parent, guarding their steps.

It’s nearly night, the sun streaking the sky with a rainbow of blue and green and pink and red in the distance, when they stop. Nearly out of the forest, they’re starting to recognize scenery, the general feel of the landscape, which only serves to raise their hopes even more. Mal catches another grouse in a snare, and Polly cooks it while Mal scouts around for anything else. She finds a couple of mice and brings those back as well, to keep in the pack until tomorrow. They’re both still alive, but will likely die before they can be eaten. Still, any food is always good.

They sing to the skies before bed, accompanied by the crackle and pop of flames, pointing out constellations and the occasional winged predator. The insects buzz, and Polly slaps at them, laughing. Mal laughs as well and forgets that there was ever a time not like this. When they sleep, there are no dreams

OOM - Day 5

2006-06-24T20:37:52Z

The fifth day is hunger.

In the morning, they eat the last scraps of horsemeat and what is left from the thin carcasses of the birds and rabbit. Mal keeps her bow out and cocked, but as they walk quietly across the plain, they see nothing. The birds are all gone, and what other animals are still alive are making not a sound or a movement. They trade ideas of what to eat, each describing a favourite meal. From there, the topic switches onto what other people must be eating at the time, bad food they’ve eaten before, and what they could possibly eat tonight. Food is the only thing that either girl can think of. Mal catches herself remembering Milliways with longing, thinking of Bar who always has food, and good food at that, perfectly cooked and delicious.

That train of thought keeps them going, while at the same time tripping them up and making them stumble on the harsh ground. Polly winces a little when she trips and can’t quite catch herself, and Mal makes a tiny noise of pain when her burnt and still-healing hands scrape across the dirt. But they always get up, and keep moving. Can’t stop now, Mal tells Polly, not now. Fifth day. We’re over halfway there.

In the evening, Polly sits by the fire and waits as Mal goes out hunting. She can’t find anything, and returns angry, hurling the horse-bow to the ground and sitting hard, wrapped in her own thoughts. Polly comes over and throws an arm around Mal’s shoulders, hugging her gently, murmuring that it’s not a big deal, she’s not really hungry anyway. Mal shakes her head, and Polly frowns a little and rubs her back, finding knots of tension and working them out, talking softly in a voice that Mal can’t understand, and Mal drops her head down and stares at the dirt. They both sleep side by side that night, and wake curled up together.

OOM - Day 4

2006-06-24T20:36:46Z

The fourth day is memories.

When they wake, the sun is half-hidden by the dawn clouds. It’s a cool, dry morning that promises heat later, and Polly won’t meet Mal’s eyes. Mal frowns a little, but doesn’t say anything. Just packs up, quietly disguising the ashes of the cooking fire, pulls on her boots, and nods to the younger girl. They set off under the watchful gaze of what few birds are left, and Mal walks ahead, setting the pace for both of them.

Later, though, they talk. They remember the regiment, shaking their heads as they think of Strappi, pissing his drawers at the thought of going to war; Jackrum, huge, unstoppable; and strange, quiet Lofty under Tonker’s watchful gaze. They laugh softly as they remember Shufti’s cooking, and Mal smiles quietly, reassures Polly that she ‘just has a feeling’ that Shufti is doing well. They snicker, remembering the room full of not-quite-men, and laugh, real laughter as Polly tells Mal all about Blouse dressing up as a washerwoman. Mal grins, and Polly snickers, and for a time, everything is just fine.

The sun isn’t that bad, and Mal pulls clouds across it to stave off the worst of the heat. When they stop for the night, Polly glances at the meagre supply of dried meat and suggests that Mal take the horse-bow and catch something to eat. Mal does so, finding another rabbit and a couple of songbird that are easy to catch, manipulating the wind around them and then breaking their necks. She brings the food back, smiling, and they eat well, sitting around the fire and wistfully thinking of the game casserole that they had with the regiment. That night, Mal stays awake to tend the fire in the cool air, and watches the stars. Not quite lost, anymore.

OOM - Day 3

2006-06-24T15:40:59Z

The third day is sunshine.

The sun has finally decided to come out, and as the girls walk side by side it teases them with bright rays. It turns the mud into a dry, dark layer of dirt that crunches underfoot and isn’t quite as dusty as it once was. Mal and Polly walk and smile, not talking, but still sharing. Mal sees birds and Polly tells her what they are, the high circling swallows, and the diving hawks. It’s not as hard to walk, and they make good time, pacing, occasionally laughing and singing snatches of the anthem, which isn’t really a marching beat but since when has that mattered?

The sun makes everything glow in the morning, but by the afternoon it’s an angry eye glaring at them from the sky. It makes the air hot and sticky like a waiting storm, and it raises the smell of dirt and rot from the undergrowth. There is no more singing and laughing. They march with half-closed eyes and silent voices, while the sun burns away the cool moisture of the ground and turns the air into a muggy hell. The flies are awful, and land, biting through flesh with ease. Mal swats at them with a careless hand but they just keep coming back.

Dinner is quiet. The sun is low behind the mountains, the light reluctantly bleeding away. The day insects have been replaced by the night flies, who buzz around the campfire and the cooking meat. They’re almost out of food, but Mal doesn’t have the energy to hunt. She stays at the campfire and watches the light grow brighter as the sun slowly dies. She sleeps that night, one arm protective over Polly’s shoulders. They’ll move on in the morning.

OOM - Day 2

2006-06-24T15:38:57Z

The second day is rain.

It rains all day, and eventually Mal can’t keep it off of them anymore. She still carries Polly, holding her close, and the jacket keeps the smaller girl warm. Mal shivers quietly, rain like tears dripping off her face, and wishes despondently for the warm deserts that she’s been told about. Then she thinks of Lawrence and shuts her eyes, pretending that she doesn’t know him. There is only here and now. Nothing else. They have to get home.

At dusk, the rain stops for a few hours. Mal builds a fire and shoots a lone rabbit. It’s thin and scraggly but they eat it anyway, skin it and make a sort of soup. Mal feeds Polly and laughs when the other girl complains and takes the spoon for herself. Mal goes to clean the knife and the small pot that the villagers included, crouching by a puddle, humming. It’s a song that makes her shut her eyes until the memories go away, but then Polly is behind her and saying something, and Mal can’t quite hear what because Polly is warm and alive and smells like the clean scent of flame and forest and rain.

That night, spooned up next to Polly and watching the fire, Mal thinks maybe she doesn’t mind the clouds.

OOM - Day 1

2006-06-24T03:35:57Z

The first day is exhaustion.

Mal walks and walks. Polly is light, small and thin like everyone else here. Mal sings to her and makes up rambling stories. The sun is faint in a haze of cloud and moisture, the dirt underfoot hard and dry. The air promises, but never delivers. It’s a disgusting feeling, and one that makes Mal twitchy.

They rest in short, five minute intervals, Polly practicing walking, swaying and dizzy. Mal catches brief naps and stretches her burnt hands. Polly does her best to wash Santino’s leather jacket and remarks that they could eat it if they have to. Mal doesn’t say anything, just practices shooting with the horse-bow from the village.

That night, Mal sits up to keep away the rain. The clouds have finally released their burdens, and it takes effort to shove the rain away. Polly sleeps in a tiny, messy heap by the glowing embers of the fire. Mal boils water and horsemeat and feeds her, humming low. The fire crackles as the wind blows rain down Mal’s collar and into her shirt. She’s still wearing the same breeches. She smells. She wishes for the showers and lights and food of Milliways. She holds Polly close and they sleep like that, curled together like kittens or fledgling birds. In the night, when the dreams come, there is always the other to guard.

They leave at dawn, both red-eyed with the lack of sleep. The sun gleams on moisture and turns the world into a glittering diamond palace, but the only thing Mal can see is rain.

OOM - The rescue

2006-06-24T03:34:38Z

When she steps back into the room, she’s ready. The good-looking vampire is still on the floor, but he’s about to get up. It’s surprisingly easy in the end, or easier then she had assumed. Cross floor, hit him again, pick up lemon, pick up the long dagger, push lemon in mouth, and remove head.

Simple. It doesn’t matter that her hands are burning with pain, and will almost definitely scar. Mal stands, removes her jacket, then turns to leave. He’s dead, and of no more concern. The others, however, waiting outside the room, are slightly more troublesome.

Later, she’ll remember a blur of people and shouting and weapons and knives and blood. She’ll remember pain, at least briefly, and she’ll remember stone walls closing in on her as she lashes out with the knife. It’s sharply beautiful, slicing through throats and limbs with relative ease, always returning to her hand. It takes time, but she has all the time in the world, and she’s vaguely aware of someone laughing as she cuts them down.

It takes her until she’s standing in amongst the corpses, blood (not her own) dripping from her hands. There’s a long, shallow cut on her back that burns with the dull numbness of a wound inflicted by a holy weapon. She shakes her head, bends to scoop up the jacket, and leaves.

Polly is lying in a cell, unconscious, and she doesn’t wake when Mal shakes her shoulder. There’s a pulse, so Mal just picks up the younger girl and runs. There are horses in the stable, and she picks a big grey mare already saddled and bridled. The stableboy is lying in a rapidly spreading pool of dark liquid, and Mal wonders who killed him. Then she sees the dagger in her hand, sees the arterial blood that has sprayed her front, and knows. Takes a moment to check the corpse for life, then hoists Polly onto the mare’s back and swings up after her. They ride.

It’s nearly morning, the light lazily spilling over the far distant Ramtops, drifting into the shallow, godsforsaken valley that is Borogravia and Mouldavia and Zlobenia and all those other little countries that have nothing better to do then fight and die. Polly hasn’t woken up yet, and Mal has wrapped her in Santino’s dark leather jacket. The horse hates having a vampire on her back, and is prancing sideways when they finally get to a town. Mal hands Polly over to some anonymous farmer’s wife and goes to pass out in the empty cowshed.

When she wakes up, there’s a smell in the air, like blood and dead things. It takes Mal a few minutes to work out that the stench is her. When she remembers, she stumbles out to the pump to wash, letting freezing water sluice away the remains of her killing. Finds the packet of caffeine pills in her pocket and downs a few. Redresses and goes inside. The women are afraid of her, and this strikes her as somewhat amusing. Polly’s awake, though, so Mal goes to her and shushes her and holds the smaller girl close, inhaling the scent of her hair and letting the world just drift away.

They’re safe.

They spend a day in the little nameless village, while Polly sleeps and Mal sits outside and stares at the sky. They eat, a little. The people have butchered the horse, and every available part is being eaten. Some of the meat is dried, some cooked, some made into soup. Mal has three bites of soup before she can’t do it anymore and wanders off to practice her shooting. The women whisper behind her back and shake their heads as they do the laundry. Mal ignores them and shoots the tree, over and over. She’s not sure who she’s imagining it is.

That evening, she asks how far it was to Munz, how far back to the Duchess. The women eye each other and talk for a few minutes before explaining it is seven days march, and perhaps four days ride if they had horses. They don’t. Mal nods and calculates food rations.

They leave the next morning. Mal carries Polly, wrapped in a blanket, and has a small bundle of dried horsemeat in a tiny cooking pot on her back.

Behind them, light spills across the hard ground and is swallowed by the dark patches where the butchered horse lay.