Kidnapped {D7} // 46th Quell

[Marree]

Dreams plague the mind of the girl sleeping away in her bed. Darkness shrouds over her as the fan spins creating a gust that moves her hair. However, as she grimaces in her sleep, a subtle sound doesn't seem to wake the unaware teen. She only moans slightly in her sleep, tossing her body over to the left side and she wraps her fingers around the blanket and it's pulled up to her chin. Clenching, she begins to cry into her pillow as non existant tears flow. Furrowed brows suggest a horrid nightmare occuring as a shuffle passes her by. Moments pass by as her dark skin wrinkles up and she throws her head from left to right several times. "Please... save her." She whispers out in a plea. Her mouth opens and no more words come out but the gentle gasp of a startle.

Moments pass by. Softly, her features return to a normal state. Thick lips purse gently as her eyes relax and she glides back into a pleasant dream. Her position shifts once more as she turns to her stomach, allowing her arms to hug the pillow with one arm below and above. Ringletts surround her teardrop shaped face.

Around her, men gather. They make subtle motions with their hands and as they pile into her room, silence invades the house. Every light refuses to come on. All the fans have quit. Ceiling fan slowly spins to a close as a pair of hands pardon Tauriel from her slumber in a messy state. She jerks, flailing around as her hand smacks the masked person with her fist and she immediately begins to fight against the intruders that have come into her room.

Fear envelopes her senses as she tries to scream out but something is placed over her mouth and her hands begin to be pulled behind her, her joints threatening to pop out with the force she tries to escape.

"etmehgonoo. eteoohmeh." Inaudible tones screech out from beyond the baracade on her mouth. Her legs are suddenly pushed together, a contraption capturing her ability to walk and she stuggles until she falls forward, barely missing the edge of the table but not enough that she still catches the edge, lulling her into a restless temporary slumber. The only thing heard is the mumbles and moans of her illgotten nightmare coming to life.

[Tauriel has been placed as the D7F runner]

[cameo]

Blood succumbs upon my Victim’s shoulder, decorating the rough material of his attire. The glorious moon glistens against his new vague wound, while my features scarcely deforms from my mishap. Perhaps in the previous year guilt would plague more harshly into my aroma, yet this season leaves absolutely no opportunity for such luxury. The dance of this training altercation delivered stagnant steps, with plentiful opportunity to counteract each incursion. It may be his crafted armor that’s simply too loose-fitted and it didn’t achieve protection upon his exterior as it should, or allow a graceful span to dodge my opposing force. Or perhaps it’s him. But it’s these test that must seek the downfalls in our Family, despite how unforgiving the results of these findings may lead.

“You should not cower after being struck, Konrad!” Is scolded from my youthful lips. “Especially to one a head shorter then yourself!” Yet his expression evidently illustrates his reasoning for doing so, while it’s also not required to understand. Hesitation never marked my Sisters friendly opponents in the past, while they were also not as young as myself when honored into Command.

“Sir…” Konrad’s volume barely reaches the eyes that have now transferred to us, who were once clashing innocent spars surrounding us.

For this occasion red revenge doesn’t thirst upon our tongues. Slaughtered has itched our senses since every birth, though not of recently. This is solely practice for the days to come, while nonverbally we all worship this break from such. And now that it’s I being sought for Leadership, I’m uncertain of my desires for the battles my Sisters once reigned.

Murder has sought my Bloodline. Before memories could even be retained, my almighty Parents were demolished upon these very lands in a gruesome War that has yet to end. Identical enemies destroyed their Eldest, whom easily conquered their shoes. And though in a different manner, they wrenched all of our hearts with their ways of vanishing the Second eldest…Lexa. Now it’s purely I that’s left to be in charge.

My lips part to lash at his forsaken concern, fumigated by my assumption that he may potentially view me as weak. Then the familiar footsteps of the very Foes that captured my Bloodline’s breaths wisps across my ears. “Formation!” I demand, establishing my position at the front of the line, even if my backings may be at least inches above my own height. Length has never deterred any Commander, and my age won’t either.

“Weapons!” Our blades delve to our fronts, prepared for the altercation to arise. Numerous Sentinels lace before us, just as desperate for another battle upon this ongoing war. “Attack!” I unleash the first of the combat, while my own sword fires for the payback of our loses.

There’s no disregarding their hatred for us. Generations before Weapons were forbidden across the Districts, and we continuously fight for our rights on protection. Many have collapsed from this determination, while us as a whole never will. No matter how many times they warn us, fight us, and occasionally defeat us, we strive to shelter our power.

The razors of our makeshift protection echoes against the Sentinel’s heavy guard, presenting us no relief in success. This occasion is different. They’re not striving for ultimate demise as they often are. This collision allows little chance in even shed, because they’re not seeking harm. The fire of our torches flickers against their appalling appearances, to shine upon the evidence that they’re simply deflecting our assaults. Then the truth unfolds…

My weapon is forced from my hold, and unwillingly I’m grasped into multiple arms. There’s little hope in achieving our desires of demolishing them in return. They’re simply seeking the captivation of one, and that target embodies myself. This mission leaves their strategy pristine, with no room to falter. My body is lifted by countless of them, and this altercation doesn’t sketch any of our plans. They wish to take the final bloodline Commander.

“Capt-“ I attempt to screech their desires, to call for assistances, only to have my vocals manipulated and my face bagged. My soldiers are too preoccupied by the battle, even if they were to notice. And any of them too breach close to halting the Sentinels’ task would surely be wiped from existence. There’s no predicting what they must be pursuing. Why didn’t they slaughter me here, as they did with my Parents and Sister? Unless they fear of my flee before following in Lexa’s path…

{Ales Trikru has been placed as D7M Runner}