Donator — Unholiest
Posted 5 years ago ( 2020/05/21 18:37:36 )
@ayakashi: Imma starting this ^^
Aon took a long, deep breath. Feeling her chest rise and fall easier as the minutes passed until her heavy and ragged breathing returned to it's usual ease. When she opened her eyes, the vivid and incandescent whites, for her kind did not possess irises, dulled until they settled on a light-ish grey, the not-so-young woman took in her surroundings. Rocks. God I am so sick of rocks. She cursed under her breath and turned her gaze on the elf that laid in front of her. He was tall and gracious just like all his kindred. More athletic, in comparison with her lithe build. His ears looked rather and stubby compared to hers. His eyes were full of... terror? Indigestion? Aon couldn't quite place the emotion he was displaying and she'd rather not remove the rag from his mouth to hear him display it. The mumbling that came from his pie-hole was more than enough sounds.
It had taken her ages to dig the hole. Would have been easier if he'd been a dwarf, she mused as she dug a meter or so deeper and struck the dirt with the shovel to pack it tighter. They don't take up as much room. If he'd been a dwarf instead, I'd be home already eating dinner and drinking my tea instead of standing around here and staring at dirt and rocks. There! Should be good enough. She struck the dirt again a few times just to be sure, as hard as she could, before throwing the shovel over the edge of the hole and climbing out. The elf got louder as he saw her climb out with a smile on her lips, unaware at that time that she was thinking about how lovely it would be to come home and have a sit in front of the telly with a cup of warm tea with honey. Although, he could have simply been intimidated by the sharp fangs and pitch black forked tongue. Humans usually were. Then again, they were scared of everything.
The elf started moving, rather worm-like, because how could he not? Being tied up by the hands, upper arms and feet with the thin, yet sturdy, nylon thread made any other movement entirely impossible. "Silly elf, do you really think you can slither away? I'm a demon, we both know I am faster than you. It's not your fault. Satan was just more thorough than your gods. Now, you're a blasted elf, not a snake, have some pride."
With that said she promptly hit him over the head with the shovel, checked for signs of life and being happy to find none, pushed him into the hole she'd dug all afternoon. As she started filling the hole back with the dirt, she muttered under her breath "also my dear, to be fair, you did this to yourself, you know. I don't know why you thought coming after me alone for the bounty was a good idea. The last guy had at least four or five dwarves with him. And bigger guns. I think one of them was even a mage?" Aon stopped to think back to that day "yes, they definitely had a mage with them. Although, that might have been the human in charge, rather than one of the dwarves, come to think of it. Either way, this was entirely your own fault."
Once she thought the hole was sufficiently covered and pack tightly enough, Aon took the shovel, threw it over her shoulder and started heading back home to her cottage in the forest a few miles away. The evening breeze made the demon's rose-gold colored hair tousle and get stuck to the double horns protruding from the sides of her forehead. Her skin, which were more white than gray, glistened due to the last rays of sunshine as the sky darkened, making all the demonic runes appear more prominent. She'd looked quite terrifying, she'd think, had it not been for the little green plant growing on top of her head. A... souvenir from the last time her beloved friend had dragged her on one of their adventures.
There were worse curses to live with.
There's this blasted rock. Filled with even more rocks. Rocks and snow and dirt. There'd used to be a great deal of trees on the side of the mountain she resided on, however given the cold climate, the demon had used most of them to fuel the ever-burning fire in the fireplace of her cottage.
Aon firmly hated mountains, but not as thoroughly or as utterly, as she hated the snow.