A Hero Will Save Me Just in Time (closed)

[Appoline Meian]

The lake was someplace Appoline didn't go very often. It was a bit outside of her comfort zone, and despite the general lack of people it felt too open for the small girl. She wasn't terribly outdoorsy, nor was she comfortable enough to swim in public even in the warmer months. But there was one thing that the lake always held for her, and it was something that drew her back during the wee hours of the weekends; the sunrises were breathtaking, and the animals were more sociable, allowing her to sketch them freely without trekking too far off the paths.


Despite being the winter, fish still jumped over the surface of the water in search of insects, flashing their scales brilliantly in the morning light. The sunrise had already come and gone, but a few prior pages in the transfer student's artbook were colored(!) with rich pencils, and from a number of perspectives on the large body of water.


Now, she crouched just off the path towards the edge of the lake, pencil sketching the details of one of the jumping fish onto the acid-free page. Her long, navy blue skirt pooled around her in the frosty grass, pleats looking like frozen waves on a choppy sea. A white peacoat hung over her lithe form as well, and delicate hands were cloaked in fingerless wool gloves of morning grey. A knitted cap of white kept her dark hair from her face, and if one looked closely, white strands of hair cradled her face on its right side. Her dual-colored eyes were focused on her task, switching back and forth between the water and the paper with each splash, and her bottom lip was a lush pink color from the absentminded chewing present when she worked.


Being that she expected no one around, this was perfectly fine by her. If no one bothered her, she would stay there until her stomach told her it was time for lunch and go home without a care in the world, preparing for the movie party she'd invited Amos and Juniper to last week. It gave her folks a chance to get out and enjoy themselves, anyway.


The sound footsteps alerted her to the presence of another person, and Appoline looked up to the path, startled. Was someone else here? She saw no one, but she looked about just in case. One never knew what could happen, even in small towns like this.

[Jocelyn Delancey]

Jocelyn wasn't too keen on the lake to begin with. It made him irritated to think about the possibility that he might fall in and get his wings wet or something stupid like that. It was part of the reason he hated the snow and the rain, but at least with the snow he could prevent it easier. Though it still didn't help that it was so cold, he felt as though his wings were going to turn into popsickles, the cold chilled their surfaces to the sensitive core.

A scarf wrapped his neck and his hands were covered by leather gloves, but beyond that he only wore a button up shirt and vest as usual. Leaving too much open for the cold air to touch, but it was nessicary to be lighter in weight when he was practicing his flight. After all, wings such as his could only carry so much, it waas difficult getting them to work with him to begin with. Especially when they were cold.

"Son o'a bitch!" his voice would echo as he fell to the earth near the lake. His wings flopping down on either side of them as if they were out of breath yet that was an impossible thing to imagine of them. At least he imagined it was for those who did not have them. his wings would fold back behind him as he pushed himself up from the ground to sit there punching at the grass for no particular reason other than his own frustration.

He had not noticed another person there. Let alone the fact that he'd managed to fly right over her at some point, no he was simply focused on venting that anger upon the ground, even if it hurt his his fists somewhat. He sighed a few minutes later, taking a lighter from his pocket, flicking it on , holding it between his hands to warm himself a bit. Plus he really liked the way it flickered, controlled, in his hands, and he enjoyed the light it cast.

[Appoline Meian]

The crackling of branches and ice drew her attention once again, as did the shouted cursing. It had actually been relatively close, and by the sound of it someone might have been hurt. Despite this, Appoline hesitated; she wasn't much of a hero or a savior, and people in general made her skittish. Let alone angry people. Even still, if someone was hurt, she couldn't just leave them there.


Standing hesitantly, the small girl looked around in the direction where she'd heard the noise; a bit to her right and towards the grassy bank. One foot stepped down lightly, then the next as she tiptoed over and peered around a tree to search for the individual in question. While she didn't really know who she would find, the sight that greeted her was definitely not expected.


The person had gossamer wings much in the same pattern and shape as a moth she'd once seen, with a faint silvery sheen through the jade-green coloration. Considering that they had their back to her, that was the first thing she saw, and it made her gasp softly in wonder. She'd never seen a pixie before! Her hands itched to draw them, but after her confrontation with Chester last week, the teen stayed her hands and instead brought the book to her chest - whether to shield herself or the drawings within, she couldn't say.


After a closer inspection, it looked like the person was a boy - a very think boy with white-blonde hair, hunched over something that he held. Contrary to her initial worries, he didn't look hurt, so she hid back behind the tree to gather herself up before stepping out on the mossy bank, tall boots sinking slightly into the spongy flora.


"Um... excuse me?" Her voice was barely audible, but she continued anyway, pushing through the shyness. "Are... are you all right? I heard... It sounded like you... might've fallen."

[Jocelyn Delancey]

Joce seemed startled by the sound, his wings lifting almost immediately, a small poof of dust falling from his wings as they did so suddenly with the turn of his body. His eyes focused in on the figure. Ready to snap out a snarky comment, though his features softened at the sight of a woman, an asian woman it appeared at that.

Lucky day!

He smiled to her as he flicked closed that lighter, sliding it back into his pocket as he stood, his wings relaxing a bit as he did so, "Me falling? Well, maybe for you, but I wouldn't say that it hurt." He stated walking closer to the lady. To get a better look at her and her body. It was rather hard to judge much about it beneath her clothing.

"You were watching me?" he suggested. Giving her an assumed charming smile.

[Appoline Meian]

His twitch actually gave her a start, but she didn't flee as he turned around to look at her. There was something in his face that was dark, but it lightened when he got a good look at the petite girl. Then again, what it lightened to wasn't really that comfortable either. It felt like the pixie was sizing her up somehow; she hadn't really seen that look from anyone before, but it gave her the creeps.


Falling... for me? Was that supposed to be a pickup line or something? A faint tinge of pink deepened in the shorter student's cheeks and once more her teeth trapped her bottom lip in a nervous habit. She wasn't pretty or even all that friendly; why would anyone want to flirt with her? "O-oh... w-well, I'm glad you're... um... not hurt," Appoline stammered, dipping her head demurely to keep him from looking too closely at her face. The arms holding her sketchbook tightened, almost as if she were hugging herself... or trying to disappear.


His question made her flick her eyes back to him briefly before looking away as the pink flushed further into her cheeks and nose. "N-no, I was... I was sketching and... and I heard a noise." Good lord, why couldn't she just talk?! She hadn't done anything wrong, and here she was cringing and hiding as if he were waving a pitchfork in her face for being a freak. "I just... I wanted to be sure... that you... were okay."

[Jocelyn Delancey]

That smile remained upon his lips as he leaned toward her, the lowering of her head made it difficult to see her face, he intended to change his view of her face. Even if she would not allow him a good look at it he would see it one way or another.

He smirked slightly, that color on her cheeks saying alot about her, not to mention the way that she held her book tightly to her. He recognized it, of course, being somewhat artistic himself. "Oh, are you an artist, yes? Do you wan' to drah me like one of your french boys?" he teased, as ironic as it was, her as he tried to take hold of the book she held. To an artist like him that was right on par with reading a diary. Art was personal. Though it was a side of himself that noone would ever see if he had anything to say about it.

"Sketching ah, i see i see. And you sa' me ahn you were like.. Oh gah, he's foinee ! I simply must drah 'im, Oui?" he questioned with that thickly accented voice. "I'm quite fine, bu'i'd feel mu'h better if you fucked me." he stated bluntly.

[Appoline Meian]

Appoline's face went immediately from simply 'pink' to a rather vibrant shade of fuchsia in the time it took the winged boy to speak those two simple lines, his exotic accent jumbling the meanings around a little more in her head. She wasn't exactly sure what he meant by 'her French boys', but she was sure it had something to do with the propensity of modern French artists drawing their subjects in the nude. Definitely not something she wanted to do on a mossy, half-frozen bank in the middle of December.


Then, she spotted his hand reaching for the sketchbook. Panic overtook her, and the girl stepped back quickly in response. "N-no, please don't," she pleaded, looking up at him fearfully as she turned her body away, clutching the book even closer. Those were her drawings - they weren't meant for anyone else. Not only that, she was more protective of the stack of perforated paper than ever, what with the unfortunate encounter last week.


"W-well..." He was a fair subject, and his wings were beautiful, but the Japanese girl would never presume to ask him directly. She was too meek to do something so blatant. He continued, though, and his last three words made her blood run chill. She swore her face paled like ice, and she took another step away with a look of abject terror on her features. She'd never had a boyfriend, let alone thought about... about... She couldn't even think about it, it was so foreign a concept to the tiny artist.


"I... I don't..." The words wouldn't come, and all she could do was keep stepping back shakily, deny him the chance of getting closer. How had this gone so wrong?

[Jocelyn Delancey]

Jocelyn gave an amused sound as he watched her withdraw as he reached for her book. So it seemed she was an artist after all. He imagined her to have some sort of talent in her work given by the way she withdrew as if they were her own personal thoughts and feelings. For that he was impressed, but he didn't really let that linger to long.

"Yeah yeah." he stated to her as she pleaded with him not to take her book. He stepped toward her with her steps backward, closing the distance between them, giving her an impish smile. He followed her movements the way a cat would to a retreating mouse. Every step she took back drew one of his own forward as his own wings hung behind him, trailing a faint cloud of that dust into the air behind him, thought he color of the dust was a purplish tint due to his mood.

"You don'what? Object? A'right then, lets warm up togethr, don'worry. I'll be gentle...enough." He stated though it was likely a lie.

[Appoline Meian]

With each step she took, he replied in kind, his longer legs bringing him ever closer as she struggled to get away. Every instinct in her was telling her to flee; to run as far and as fast as she could away from here and pretend it never happened. But her body was frozen aside from each minuscule step away and she made a slight squeaking sound as he came close enough to touch her again.


"N-no, I... I..." Tears formed in the dual-colored eyes, and at the moment the tiny figure's need to keep an eye on the foreigner stalking her overrode her own shyness about her heterochromia. Finally, however, it seemed that she stepped too far back without looking; her back hit a tree, and Appoline turned her head in horror and disbelief to look before turning back to the real danger before her.


"I... I can't..." she pleaded, curling into herself to try and hide from the approaching figure. She wanted to escape, to go far away and never look back, but her stupid body wouldn't move because it was shaking too much. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and her delicate hands were white with the tension through them. She was paralyzed, literally, with fear.

[Jocelyn Delancey]

"My, what beautiful eyes you have there, i just want to lick them. " he stated as his hand extended to try to capture her by the arm to stop her from backing up any further. He was tired of the cat and mouse dance of steps they were doing. He'd rather not waste perfectly good thrusting energy on such a silly game.

However, as she hit the tree it took care of that problem for him. He stepped forward far to quickly to close the space between their bodies, keeping her prisoner to the wood, "Fouchk me. " he stated to her as he moved his hands toward that skirt, grasping at the fabric, "You cahn. I'll show you how" he assured her. His wings lifted as the dust trickle off off them due to his own emotions.

[Appoline Meian]

Flinching away from the touch had been part of what had backed her into the tree in the first place, and even as the pixie boy closed the gap she pushed closer to the confining space, wishing to every being she could think of that she could disappear. For once, she wished she had powers period - something that would let her melt away into the forest or stop time or something. Even her father's powers would have been preferable in that moment. She even wished her father was here.


Then, the dust hit her at the same moment as his hands grabbed for her skirt. Something in her body finally realized that it was in danger, and her powers took control, slipping the girl to one side in a feat of extraordinary dexterity and backhanding the other student at the same time. She slipped on the moss but did not fall, and her tiny form finally got the messages her brains was sending.


She ran. As fast as she could back towards the trail, towards where people could see her. The lake was almost deserted, but someone had to be here, right?! Scrambling through the underbrush, her powers activated with every slip on the frozen leaves and grass, jerking her around as if she were stumbling drunk until she finally reached the edge of the beaten path. Her vision swam, and she stumbled down the trail while trying to rub the glittering dust from her eyes.


I have to get away from here, have to run, can't let him catch me!

[Jocelyn Delancey]

Joce would have let her run, to let her do as she wanted, to run away with her chasity belt between her legs. However, it was that back hand across the face that startled his expression. For a single moment his hand raised to rub at his cheek, however, his surprise was replaced with an intense rage that flooded every sense.

He chased her.

It may have seemed almost comical the way he tried to fly after her only to fall to the ground after only a few feet, but he was quick on his feet more so than he was in the air because of his lack of skill in using those very wings.

Finally they reached the end of the path and a grin spread his lips. A pant of breath passing them, "End o'the line doll face. Nowhere to run now. I was going to let you have the honor of fouchking me and you mark my sexy flesh?" he questioned with an irritated tone to his accented voice.

[Appoline Meian]

Somehow, rather than running back towards the docks (and thus, to the relative safety of the parking lot and street), she'd turned down a side path, the dirt beneath her feet shifting as if it were alive. There was the taste of ozone in her mouth, and everything around her seemed too bright, too real. It didn't even occur to Appoline, in that addled state, that the dust was causing her to hallucinate. Having never taken a mind-altering drug of any sort, she had no idea what it felt like, and now she was experiencing it full on with no warning.


Her foot landed on a patch of ice, and she pitched forward, her powers trying for a single handspring and a roll at the same time in her confused state. She ended up rolling and tripping over her skirt, the wind rushing from her lips and hands stinging as they scraped the ground. The overwhelming taste of copper filled her mouth as she pushed herself up shakily, a line of fire tracing down the smooth skin of her chin from her lip, and the gymnast touched her face shakily, not comprehending the sudden red wetness on her fingertips even as the boy caught up with her.


His words reached her, though they were distorted, and she looked up at him as if she almost didn't see him. She was supposed to be afraid, and by gods she was, but she couldn't remember why. She just saw the impossible realness of the woods around her, and a figure straight from legends stood before her in all his rage. It was terrifying, and it was beautiful.


From Jocelyn's perspective, the girl was a right mess as it was. Her skirt had been torn in her fall, taking a good foot from the hem and revealing slender legs encased in leather riding boots; her sketchbook was clutched in one hand, both of them stained with red and dirt from the fall and one marked with blood from where she'd touched her face; a split lip, dripping blood steadily onto the formerly snow white and now dirt-stained peacoat; those dual-colored eyes streaming tears and drifting back and forth as if her perception of reality was anything but real.


"Utsukushii," she whispered, the word halting as she stared at him. The hallucinogenic dust had worked its magic; she was completely in its thrall. At least, for now.


And she couldn't run anymore.

[Jocelyn Delancey]

Jocelyn's breaths came out in altered rythm due to the pace he'd moved to try to keep up with the athletic girl. He wondered what her ability was, probably something similar to ulrich given how easily she'd moved, what was with people being so damn slippery? It was ruining his groove. Either way it wasn't really the time to think about such things he had to keep up with her. He had to teach her a lesson about what a woman's place in the world was at least one that would raise hand to mark his self-proclaimed sexy face.

When he saw her, he saw that she'd been effected by his dust, though he himself had not breathed it in this time--thankfully. He saw the look on her face and wondered if that was how he looked when it effected him. It was such a pathetic look, for a moment that rage seemed to null, but then he shook his head. Rembering what he'd been pissed off about to begin with.

He moved towrd her, only to notice she was already injured, and all he could wonder is how women could be so pathetically weak. He sighed heavily, giving an annoyed sound, "fouchkin' cunt. Takin' tha fun out of beatin' you down myself." he hissed at her. His accent echoing in the cool air as he pulled off his scarf, the thick bruising around his neck becoming visible.

He moved toward her and shoved his hand against her face, trying to push her back to the ground, but instead of trying to assault her he growled out to her. "Fouchkin' twat " as he pressed his scarf to her her bleeding wounds. Perhaps a little more roughly than he would have if she hadn't pissed him off, but seeing a woman injured infront of him made that instinct to take care of her take over his anger.

Joce may be a bully, but if he didn't cause the injury himself it wasn't fun for him.

His hand moved, to her skirt, past it to grab at her ankles pulling them onto one of his shoulders. Trying to hold them there when she would struggle, "Sto'ya fouchkin cunt!" he would exclaim to her. Struggling to hold her legs up and the scarf on her injuries. He'd seen somewhere about raising the legs up to prevent shock or something. He couldn't really remember, but it in his mind he thought it would help somehow.

To an outsider, the sight would likely be horrifying, given Jocelyn's less than lemon pledged record.

[Appoline Meian]

As he approached, Appoline cringed, trying to move away from the vision she saw. The scarf came at her blindingly fast (at least to her perception), and she'd moved backwards to try and avoid it. It failed, of course, and the glittering cloth hit her full in the face, lancing pain through her mouth as pressure was put on the cut. Desperately, she clawed at the scarf, feeling as if she were being suffocated by the softness and inhaling more dust as she did so. Even if she'd been in her right mind and held her breath, it would have entered her bloodstream directly through the wound in her mouth.


And considering how quickly her heart was beating, it spread rapidly regardless.


The pulling on her legs gave more reason for panic as her drug-addled brain finally remembered why she'd been running at all in the first place. She kicked and struggled, desperately crying out and pleading in her fear (though, she spoke in Japanese, so her protests were likely unintelligible), hands trying to tear at the scarf being forced against her mouth. "Iie! Sawaranaide!" ("No! Don't touch me!")


One of her feet broke free from his grasp and kicked out hard, connecting with something (possibly an elbow, but given her state she didn't much know). The grip binding her released for a moment and she rolled to her side, coughing and breathing in clear air as she curled in on herself and cried, covering her head and shutting her eyes against the pain. The world swam beneath her, and she tucked close in a fetal position as if it would help. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!