Silver Creek [m]Lost and afraid

Any tags for reference, tentatively set in the future from leaving the Willows

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Language, violent acts, drugging, though pretty much anything triggering to someone might also be involved as the thread develops.

The days had blended together, a drug-induced haze made the lost healer dizzy—she felt heavy, forgetful. She did not have the capacity to reverse the effects for He kept her under, pliable, and accepting of his poppy-infused teas.

Unbeknownst to her, the pair had travelled East, then to the South, arriving into a secluded area of the Hinterlands, a place called Silver Creek. It was wrapped in a thick blanket of trees, away from prying eyes, away from anyone, really. 

It was quiet, so quiet that her slowed thoughts echoed in the recessed spaces of her mind; @Reverie and @Everett, Carnelian and Peridot, faces of those who owned pieces of her heart materialized before her as she settled herself beside the Creek. She talked to them, confessed things to them, confided in them.

His voice rose above the nonsensical conversations and the faces disappeared, leaving her feeling empty. Dull eyes found the owner of the voice as his black silhouette came into view, albeit a bit hazy and unclear.

He had watched her from the shadows, his predatory gaze slowly drinking in her form by the Creek. He could hear her words to ghosts invisible to him, likely induced by the poppy teas he gave her every four hours. It kept her loose, pliable, willing. As if his thoughts were propellers, he moved forward, his voice deep and husky with longing for the female who evaded him for almost 2 years.

“Reina,” he purred, “must you look so…delicious?” He had sauntered to her side, his nose brushing her neck up to her ear, deeply inhaling as he went. He relished in the fact she did not move away from his touch and he would absolutely use that to his advantage.

“I think it is time we venture beyond the Creek, stretch our legs a little. What do you think, my love?”

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Mentions of sexual assault, persuasion, Stockholm syndrome like behaviors.

His touch sent shivers down her spine—old Reina would have pulled away, snarling and teeth snapping. Not this new Reina, no. No, she craved HIS touch, the attention he gave her. It was unclear how this came to be. Was it the poppy? Or, was this truly her, what she had wanted all along? 

Someone to choose her, to keep her for their very own. 

No one that she loved had ever chosen her, forever suspending her in this abysmal purgatory that she had put herself in while in the Willows. Reverie was like a violent tide during a brewing storm, smashing into her, splintering her heart only to recoil, putting her at a distance that was safe from Reina’s bleeding heart. Everett was not so destructive; his life had become preoccupied with his sister and the babies, caring for them and their needs or doing whatever it is that his sister asked. The red woman could not blame him for it, not entirely, but she found it difficult to stifle the feelings of abandonment, of loss…of jealousy.

Jealousy in those on the receiving end of the love and devotion that the embodiments of her heart freely gave; but never, never given to her. She did not matter to them, to anyone… 

But—that wasn’t true, was it? 

Dull eyes found Him, Ruin, a ghost from her past returned to the land of the living. Or, maybe—hopefully—Reina was actually dead. This would make more sense, after all; never in her life would she consort with her enemy, the male who killed her entire family. Though, here she was, consorting. Worshipping.

Loving.

In her perpetual stupor, many things had happened; flashes assaulted her memories, letting through images of Ruin using her, abusing her, then comforting her, building her up again and again until all she felt was his love. Adoration. His devotion. He chose her. 

Someone had chosen her. 

And, because of this, she leaned into his touch, a sultry smile reaching dead eyes. “Yes, my love, that is a wonderful idea.” Her body rose at his command, her eyes never leaving his as he led her away from the Creek.

Though, she stole one last glance behind her; a sad, wistful visage as she asked, softly, “Can my friends come, too?”

Can my friends come, too?


He whirled on her, finding himself staring at the back of her neck, the want to correct her strong and pulsing in his veins. There was a warning in his words. 

“There are no friends, no pack members, no one who can ‘come, too.’ You will do well to remember this, Reina…darling.”

His jaw struck, teeth clamping onto scruff, the feeling the pops that indicate sharp canines piercing skin, the taste of metallic hot liquid coating his tongue as he bore down on her. The force of him pushed her already disabled nervous system down into the dirt, sharp yelps of pain and fear emitting from her, eyes dazed and wild.

It was glorious.

The sight of her underneath him, covered in her own blood, cowering beneath his power and might—Submitting to him—would be his undoing. It was like the Heaven’s broke open only for him, showering him in a gilded light full of god-like power. She was his, at long last, she was finally his to own. To keep. To use…and abuse.

And so, he did. And, she let him. 

Oh, did she let him.