sweetnessofbondage
Virgin
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2019
- Posts
- 4
Of Flesh, Teeth, and Blood (PM to join)
Scarlet: https://wiselwisel.com/post/152255568545 (without tattoos)
The night of the harvest festival seemed to bring the village to life, as inebriated men and women reveled in the light of the bonfire in the town square, the typically quiet place now filled with laughter and music. Through the crowd walked a hooded figure, cloaked in red, quiet and paying no attention to the festivities. Scarlet kept her basket by her side, her bright clothing a sharp contrast to the neutral colors around her. A small smile was all that could be seen, the rest of her face hidden by shadow as the rest of the villagers were revealed in the orange glow of the fire.
Keeping her head low, he managed to brush by most of the others with little resistance, until a slight stumble made her fall into a tall pale man, pale with eyes so dark they seemed to be completely black. The petite girl paused for a moment, taking in his angular face, unable to recognize the handsome stranger. "I'm sorry," she murmured before moving past him and making her way to the edge of the village, glancing back only once to find that the man had disappeared into the crowd. For someone who had lived in this village her whole life, that could not be found on any map, the sight of a stranger was unusual. Still, she brushed it aside and stepped onto the dirt path.
Once, she might have joined in the excitement of the festival, but in recent months she had found little reason for joy. With the death of both of her parents haunting her, she'd kept mostly to herself, often spending time in the secluded cottage with her sickly grandmother at the edge of the woods. The further she went, the softer the sounds of the village became, until her footsteps were the only accompaniment down the path, her boots sinking into the recently fallen snow.
The cottage garden, though usually brightly decorated with yellow flowers, seemed ominous in the snow, a cold wind shaking the windowpane, causing Scarlet to frown. The cold weather would only do more harm to her grandmother, who barely ever left the bed anymore. With a sigh, she opened the door, shivering as she listened to the loud creak of the wood before stepping inside. The small sitting room was lit only by a candle, the flame threatened by the wind coming through the cracks. Lowering her hood, Scarlet closed her eyes as she enjoyed the small comfort of the fire's warmth as it shone on her pale skin and bright blue eyes, her auburn hair falling in waves down to her chest.
"Granny? I've brought some dinner and a few sweets," she called out, holding the candle before her as she made her way to the bedroom. The elderly woman must have fallen asleep wrapped in the assortment of blankets and quilts in her bed. "Granny?' Scarlet called out again and sighed as she found the woman lying completely still on the bed. Stepping forward, she reached down to gently shake the woman, only to find her hand coated in something wet and sticky. With a sharp inhale, the young woman stepped closer, moving the candle to reveal a corpse, throat ripped out with blood soaking the blankets and sprayed upon the walls.
The young woman’s heart raced as she ran back into the town, dropping the candle in the snow as tears streamed down her cheeks, the last family she had ripped from her without warning. With blood pounding in her ears, she failed to notice the screams coming from the village until she stepped into the town square. Men and women stood weeping as they held loved ones in their arms, the words “blood suckers” and “attack” coming from those calm enough to speak.
Scarlet shook as she stared down at her bloodstained hand before she hurried towards her own home, brushing past the blacksmith without a word, her hands still shaking as she shut and locked the door behind her, dropping her cloak to the floor before picking up her mother’s silver locket. Her heart ached, and with the fear gone, the loss set in. As her body shook, she gathered together supplies to help the wounded.
A month later the coldest part of winter had finally set in, and the town had somewhat recovered, though there had been a few disappearances in the days since. Barely anyone left their homes except for work, and as Scarlet walked the streets that evening, the quiet was eerie. Even the small tavern she worked in was practically empty. Stepping inside, the young maiden hung her cloak by the door, sighing as she looked around the empty room before moving behind the bar. It would be another long night
Scarlet: https://wiselwisel.com/post/152255568545 (without tattoos)
The night of the harvest festival seemed to bring the village to life, as inebriated men and women reveled in the light of the bonfire in the town square, the typically quiet place now filled with laughter and music. Through the crowd walked a hooded figure, cloaked in red, quiet and paying no attention to the festivities. Scarlet kept her basket by her side, her bright clothing a sharp contrast to the neutral colors around her. A small smile was all that could be seen, the rest of her face hidden by shadow as the rest of the villagers were revealed in the orange glow of the fire.
Keeping her head low, he managed to brush by most of the others with little resistance, until a slight stumble made her fall into a tall pale man, pale with eyes so dark they seemed to be completely black. The petite girl paused for a moment, taking in his angular face, unable to recognize the handsome stranger. "I'm sorry," she murmured before moving past him and making her way to the edge of the village, glancing back only once to find that the man had disappeared into the crowd. For someone who had lived in this village her whole life, that could not be found on any map, the sight of a stranger was unusual. Still, she brushed it aside and stepped onto the dirt path.
Once, she might have joined in the excitement of the festival, but in recent months she had found little reason for joy. With the death of both of her parents haunting her, she'd kept mostly to herself, often spending time in the secluded cottage with her sickly grandmother at the edge of the woods. The further she went, the softer the sounds of the village became, until her footsteps were the only accompaniment down the path, her boots sinking into the recently fallen snow.
The cottage garden, though usually brightly decorated with yellow flowers, seemed ominous in the snow, a cold wind shaking the windowpane, causing Scarlet to frown. The cold weather would only do more harm to her grandmother, who barely ever left the bed anymore. With a sigh, she opened the door, shivering as she listened to the loud creak of the wood before stepping inside. The small sitting room was lit only by a candle, the flame threatened by the wind coming through the cracks. Lowering her hood, Scarlet closed her eyes as she enjoyed the small comfort of the fire's warmth as it shone on her pale skin and bright blue eyes, her auburn hair falling in waves down to her chest.
"Granny? I've brought some dinner and a few sweets," she called out, holding the candle before her as she made her way to the bedroom. The elderly woman must have fallen asleep wrapped in the assortment of blankets and quilts in her bed. "Granny?' Scarlet called out again and sighed as she found the woman lying completely still on the bed. Stepping forward, she reached down to gently shake the woman, only to find her hand coated in something wet and sticky. With a sharp inhale, the young woman stepped closer, moving the candle to reveal a corpse, throat ripped out with blood soaking the blankets and sprayed upon the walls.
The young woman’s heart raced as she ran back into the town, dropping the candle in the snow as tears streamed down her cheeks, the last family she had ripped from her without warning. With blood pounding in her ears, she failed to notice the screams coming from the village until she stepped into the town square. Men and women stood weeping as they held loved ones in their arms, the words “blood suckers” and “attack” coming from those calm enough to speak.
Scarlet shook as she stared down at her bloodstained hand before she hurried towards her own home, brushing past the blacksmith without a word, her hands still shaking as she shut and locked the door behind her, dropping her cloak to the floor before picking up her mother’s silver locket. Her heart ached, and with the fear gone, the loss set in. As her body shook, she gathered together supplies to help the wounded.
A month later the coldest part of winter had finally set in, and the town had somewhat recovered, though there had been a few disappearances in the days since. Barely anyone left their homes except for work, and as Scarlet walked the streets that evening, the quiet was eerie. Even the small tavern she worked in was practically empty. Stepping inside, the young maiden hung her cloak by the door, sighing as she looked around the empty room before moving behind the bar. It would be another long night
Last edited:
