Promised Time [plot / open]

The heavy beasts purred under her touch, a ghastly groan that trembled the room just so slightly, leaving a small ripple woken in their many wine classes. She hardly brushed her fingers against it's nose, or what she assumed it's snout, in any case. It's pelt was nothing but a dark whip, but with enough time close, she'd gotten to know the alien silk of it's pelt, ice-cold to the touch. It's pleasant smile was what tended to scare the lesser of her children away, a warm passionate red that she couldn't help but adore, like fire admit the smoke.

It was a kind gift. The ones that had gathering them for her, they'd tamed the creature well. It had grown to be one of her favorites in such a short time. Were it any other day, she'd love the simple pleasure of it's company, but for now; there were other pressing matters.

"Stubborn bastards," she hissed under her breath. "Another lab gone, another village in rebellion, our research set back once again... " She tapped the tip of her nail across her cheek, annoyed, or curious, for no apparent reason. All a mere act. Her icy eyes flickered over to the one near closest to her right, the bravest to be near her dear pet. "I'd almost become upset if I didn't have so good company."

The woman stirred, shifting from one foot to the next, her heels clicking across the tile as she made her way around the dimly-lit loft. "What should we do next?" Her voice was light, airy, inviting; a slight smirk on her lips as she rested her hand across a younger one's shoulder, her nails clawing into the soft, uniformed fabric.

Elin caught herself holding her breath as the woman in black approached, standing up straight and stiff, not daring to look directly at her as she passed. As if she didn't move, she would be undetectable. She only caught a glimpse of her master from the corner of her eye, stroking the fur of one of the beasts she'd gathered from the portals... The loop of red ribbon around her neck felt like a noose, one of her punishments for her disobedience.

Still, she didn't dare look down, or do anything that would catch her lady's attention. She only wished to avoid those ice blue eyes... The others were silent too, for the most part. Daniel Callahan lounged back against the wall, spinning his revolver lazily around his finger, barely looking like he was paying attention, but Elin could see the intensity in that golden eye. He was listening intently, clinging onto every word. Motte just stood respectfully at attention, hands folded in front of her, eyes serenely closed. Patterson was much the same, his hands on the back of a chair where Snow bounced excitedly, rocking the wood back and forth as she swung around in her seat. "Pop 'em!" she bubbled, a wide white grin slashed across her face. Her voice was high and sickly sweet, and her volume made Elin's stomach churn into knots, a cold bead of sweat running down the back of her neck. "C'mon, it'd be easy, easy-peasy, please let me pop 'em, please, please, pleeease..."

There was little in the way of other answers, at least not at first. Elin swallowed, and found her eyes drifting toward the slumped figure in the corner of the loft, like a pale corpse held up by red wire. Marionette strings. That's what it reminded her of. It was hard to think of that thing as living, let alone a young girl not that much older than herself, one with a name... Faith. What a mockery. The woman with no name, that wretched gray witch with the blood red eyes, knelt beside her, running pale fingers through the girl's inky black hair.