Chattering Monkeys

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

[I felt like writing, though didn't have time to make it elaborate. Whoever wants to reply that's fine, and it doesn't matter what gender the other person is. I wanted to write a romance...Don't ask me why. I have no clue. It's a good change from the usual. I figured a "rescue" would be a good start!]

The blade twisted, screwing inside his gut. It hurt, but it was not a deadly wound. If it twisted any further it might well be. Through a haze of pain and bloody coughing he grabbed onto the blade to stop it. It cut right though his gloves, into his hand, grinding into the bones in his fingers but he wouldn't let it go. He was much stronger than his enemy, and the guy knew it. The wounded man looked into his would-be killer's eyes and saw panic and fear there. The man had been jittery the whole fight, and now that Shand was vulnerable he didn't know what to do with it. Instead, the coward let go of the sword and fled, obviously hoping Shand couldn't pursue.

That was all he could remember.

As he opened his eyes, he no longer saw the dirty alleyway he had been in. He was lying on a bed, fresh sheets pulled over his body. His stomach wound was a dull ache and he couldn't think clearly. Sedatives, and painkillers. In his line of work, this was a familiar feeling. He should be dead five times over and he had the scars to prove it.

The room was a tidy one, too tidy, and sparse, with one candle on the table in the center. It was unlit, and instead the fireplace was blazing in the hearth. It looked like an inn room. Perhaps it was. Shand tried to move but it hurt, and he groaned. There were two doors, both closed, but at his groan there was movement behind one of them. Shand tensed up. The medicine was impairing his senses and thinking, but he had reached the point where he was aware that someone must have rescued him and bandaged him up. Who would do such a thing?

Shand could just imagine how he must have looked, lying in an alleyway all bloody and unconscious. His dark hair was a mess--though it was probably not noticeable tied back--after traveling for so many nights. Nights only; he couldn't be seen during the day. He wore black makeup around his eyes and a tight-fitting assassin's outfit that covered the rest of him.

It would have been obvious what he was. Again the question, who would rescue someone like him?

Orpheus · Joined: 20 Apr 2007 Posts: 250

Elise felt disgusted with herself for helping this man. Such a fool, I am, she thought as shuffled through her medicine cabinet. She reached for a bottle of antiseptic, but her hands were shaking fiercely and she managed to knock several glass containers to the floor. They shattered on the floor with an earsplitting crack. "Merde," she muttered to herself. Elise was a low-class working girl, and didn't have the refined manners of the Noblesse d'épée.

The woman knelt down to swab up the draining fluids when she noticed blood on her bodice. It was stupid of her to even begin to wonder where the blood came from. It was from the pig in the other room, whom bled on her as she was stitching up his wounds. Elise was a seamstress, not a nurse, but stitching was stitching. Suddenly an image came to her mind, where the man was not a man at all, but a pile of leather with a face, waiting to be sewn into a garment. She had to put a hand to her lips in order to keep from throwing up at the thought.

"To hell with the glass," she said aloud. She was too nauseous to do any more work tonight. Elise decided to walk back to her room, which was in the back room of her shop. And it was her room, despite whomever was currently occupying the bed. She didn't know why she bothered saving this man. The thought of needing to make new sheets crossed Elise's mind, which made her regret saving the man even more than she had before. Elise was a practical woman, after all.

The man appeared to have woken, she noticed as she walked into the room. Leaning against the wall, the young woman stared at the bloody thing in her bed. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't afraid because she bound his arms and legs to the bed posts, and she knew he couldn't cut out of his binds. She made her cloth strong.

So why did she save the man? The fighting took place in the alley behind her shop. She even witnessed some of it herself. A corpse in an alley wouldn't be all that uncommon. Then again, the smell would start to get to her, having to live with a corpse right outside her window. Maybe she felt some sort of awkward sympathy for the man. Or maybe it was something more selfish. He was an attractive thing, and to let a handsome man die while the throbbing in her groin went untouched was just a waste of a man. Elise was a practical woman, after all.

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

The sound of shattering glass came through the door, and he knew for sure someone was there. The sudden sound startled him, and he flinched. It was then he noticed his hands and feet were tied to the bed.

Not good.

His hazy thoughts crawled along as he tried to work his way out of this mess. Someone who knew who he was must have caught him, and wanted answers; why else would they keep him alive? Whatever was coming was going to be much, much worse than a blade in the stomach. He shifted his wrists against the cloth ties and felt the small knife he kept up his sleeve press down on his skin. His shifting also made him aware that he still had on pants and the back of his shirt. That made him assume she cut away some of his clothes to treat the wound, but nothing more. He was grateful, because now he could cut his way out.

Before he acted, however, he weighed his options: try to escape injured, or escape healthier and with more knowledge about the situation? He chose the latter, and waited. It was a gamble.

It wasn't long before someone came through the door, and his slowly awakening mind did a double take. He hadn't expected a woman, low-class by the look of her, to be the one. Was it a cover? He watched her warily as she leaned on the wall, and their eyes met. His eyes were a bright, entrancing green, a wonderful color for being the last thing one ever sees.

Somehow her look didn't seem threatening, but it wasn't kind, either. There was an awkward silence as they studied each other, both darkly pondering. He was wondering how he would kill her when the chance presented itself.

"Have some water?" he croaked, breaking the silence. His voice sounded as dry as his throat was. However, he did not sound timid or pleading; it was a command, not a question. Not a nice question, either.

Orpheus · Joined: 20 Apr 2007 Posts: 250

Elise picked up on harsh tone in the man's voice. She gawked for a moment. Is he serious?! she thought. She went out of her way to save a man that didn't deserve to be saved and he is demanding more. Elise certainly wasn't a commanding figure, with her average height and thin frame, but she would not tolerate this kind of behavior in her own house. The woman wasn't cruel, though. She would give him water, just not in the manner he might have expected.

In her flustered state, Elise temporarily forgot where she placed the pitcher of water. She looked around the room for it , but didn't want to leave her spot against the wall in fear it might make her look less imposing to wander around the room. After a moment, she found the water on a squat table immediately to her right. Elise picked up the jug like it was a ball, and, partly out of anger and partly out of embarrassment, beamed the thing her captive.

She aimed for the man's head, but it missed and hit the headboard behind him. Water splashed out, but the jug only cracked a little. The woman was hoping it would shatter, as to show she has some strength in her twig-like arms. She failed in her demonstration, but hoped the man would get the idea anyway.

Elise tried to discretely feel around in a satchel she wore on her hip...

She had a few friends, all women from around the neighborhood, some her age, but most of them were old crones. They talked once about what they would do if a man ever broke into their homes. One girl said she'd be too terrified to do anything. An old woman who could hardly see or hear said she'd seduce the man and make sweet love to him. Elise said she would kill him with her sewing needles. Everyone laughed at her, and at the old lady. Elise herself thought her answer was a plausible one.

There was a sharp prick on her finger and she knew she had found it. Elise could feel a little blood trickling from where she had accidentally stabbed herself. I'll probably hurt myself with this thing more than I can hurt him.[i]

She wanted so desperately to say something menacing to the man in her bed, but nothing came to mind. Elise decided to stay quiet.

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

As the jug flew towards the bed he moved to the side as much as he could and squeezed his eyes shut. It cracked against the headboard behind him, splashing his head with water. The jug had landed on the side of the bed beside the wall, to his left. Blinking the water away he saw it there, now cracked. Like this meager house needed any more broken items.

"You crazy wench," he growled at her, glaring her way through his now damp hair. He didn't shout, but remained calmly threatening.

He tried to sit up while straining against the cloth restraints, but only made it half-way before pain flushed through his stomach. He collapsed back and gasped in quick breaths, closing his eyes to rein in his anger and the pain. All he had accomplished was to throw off some of the bedcovers, revealing the top of his bare chest and the bandages on his stomach.

Shand looked at her again, trying to hide the pain from his face but probably failing. Now she was back to watching him, as if she hadn't just thrown something at him. She didn't say a word or change her expression. What the hell was wrong with this woman? Then he noticed her feeling around in a satchel on her hip. With no idea of what she could have in mind, he tried a different tactic.

"What's your name?" he asked her. This time he tried to sound gentle, but it was stiff and still unfriendly. He wasn't used to being nice. "I'm Sam."

Orpheus · Joined: 20 Apr 2007 Posts: 250

Elise missed the man's apparent pain. The exposed flesh was toying with her, creating intense heat between her legs. She suddenly wanted to see what his body would look like without the blood and the bandages, and felt sorry for trying to be abusive to him.

She went over to the bedside to examine the wound, temporarily forgetting about any form of danger. She worried that he might have broken some of the stitches with his jerking around, and it seems he had.

"You're stupid Sam," Elise muttered as she fiddled around in her satchel, grabbing the needle and thread. "You really are."

Wielding her needle, the seamstress glared at the assassin her bed. "If you so much as move, I swear I will stab you in the eyes with this needle. Then you'll have this chest wound and be blind." She hoped she sounded menacing. Elise removed the broken stitches and started sewing the skin shut again. The warm skin felt good under her slender fingers, but she still remembered to be more rough than she needed to. She decided to poke new holes in the skin rather than be as kind as possible and reuse the same ones, and gave the threads a little extra tug after tying the knots. She hoped it hurt him, but she had never wanted to make love to a man more.

"My name is Elise."

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

Shand smiled grimly at her threat. He didn't know if she meant it, but that didn't matter. As she began to stitch his wound closed, again, he gritted his teeth. It hurt enough that he couldn't help making pained noises. To help distract himself, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, which was coming in gasps. His arms pulled against the cloth ties, the muscles one could dimly see beneath the tight black sleeves bulging. His chest also tightened. Through gritted teeth he said, "Nice meeting you, Elise."

Orpheus · Joined: 20 Apr 2007 Posts: 250

"Go to hell."

Elise was prone to speaking without thinking. She meant what she said, but despite herself she was starting to like this man. He was very attractive, this Curt or Sam or whatever his name was. It didn't really matter what name he presented, she still wouldn't believe anything he said. He might even reveal his actual name and she would still refute it. In this situation, though, it might be best to feign ignorance.

The seamstress was done with her work. She had a horrible urge to jab the needle into the man's flesh one last time, but resisted it, concluding that was too cruel for her. She found it amazing how certain circumstances can bring out evil she never knew was there. Her body seemed to go numb because of this realization and suddenly felt bad for treating this man the way she had. Elise had always trusted her instincts, but maybe it was okay to let go of them from time to time.

Elise stood up to leave and said, almost as an afterthought, "I would recommend you get some sleep, though I doubt you'll listen to me. I still don't trust you enough to take off your binds. If you really are an assassin, you can probably find a way out."

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

This time he stayed quiet. It was best not to push his luck. After all, he was bound to a bed under the needle of a sadistic woman.

Elise stood up and recommended for him to sleep and called him an assassin. He bit back the sharp retort, opting instead for silence. As she turned and walked out of the room with a indignant posture, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes. This was crazy. He'd killed skilled warriors one-on-one before, but right now he was helpless against a lowlife woman.

It was time to turn the tables. She had exited the room, and he didn't even care which room. Once he heard the door click he looked around the room for any sort of item he could use. Then he began to work the knife with his fingers, trying to get it in a position to cut the cloth.

Slowly he sawed at it, ignoring the shallow cuts he inflicted on himself in the process. When he saw it was close to breaking, he lurched his arm forward and snapped himself free. Quickly he dropped the knife on his bandaged stomach and worked at the binds with his nimble fingers. She had tied it tightly, but the woman's strength was only so much. It took awhile and lots of patience, but he untied it.

Now was the hard part. She had just stitched him closed again and he had no wish for her to have to restitch it. But, his feet were still bound. Steadily but very carefully he sat up enough that he could see his feet, after pulling up the covers. He took aim and threw the knife. It hit the wood with a dull whack, cutting enough of the cloth that he stretched and maneuvered with his foot enough to get loose. With his toe he grabbed the knife handle and yanked, causing pain to wipe through him. He paused as it raged. After it subsided, he concentrated on sawing off the other binding.

Free at last, he slide sideways off the bed and tried to move his stomach the least amount he could. Knife in hand he padded slowly and quietly to the other door, which was closed. He listened at it, trying to discern where she was and what she was doing. It had been awfully quiet and still in the house in the last moments as he got free.