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qhostqizmo · 2 months ago

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Calling out for Salvation

I give up on writing this I'm Tired ya'll. this had so much potential but i fizzled tf out.

Sitting there with a false smile plastered on her face, Lady Essätha couldn’t help but think longingly of Amon. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out without him, and she was quickly realizing that she didn’t much care for it.

Surely she was used to the dark-haired gentleman with his overcast navy eyes and thick beard standing at her side with his impassive expression. It was like memory recall; so used to looking at her right to see him there that not seeing him left her empty. No, it was definitely more than that.

She missed having her friend there at her side. She missed her support; her confident, her playful banter in the silence, her steady-logic when she was overthinking, her vigilant second set of eyes. It made her chest ache; wanting of him so. Every conversation just felt so flat without him there. Frankly it took everything in her not to bring him up. Already she caught herself turning as though to speak with him or pull him into conversation or ask his opinion as she so often did.

Was it silly to want to leave and go be with him instead?

But that had been the point! Her father in the guise of a false appearance had met the people and their guards here, and had determined no ill-intent among them. Even Amon had met some of the armor-clad individuals and agreed that there appeared no reason she shouldn’t attend the event alone. He could still have his life, then, and she would have hers almost… like how it used to be.

I don’t want it like it used to be.

It hurt to think of not having Amon Thomas Clermont in her life. A dangerous feeling; a dangerous desire.

He warned her, but her heart couldn’t listen. Even at his most stoic or his most distant, she saw a light shining past his defenses. It felt impossible not to have fallen for him no matter how much he held her at bay and warned her away. The man was silly, and funny, and genuine and strategic and thoughtful and gentle oh… he made her insides melt when he let his barriers down for even a moment to pass her a lopsided smile. No more glorious craft ever graced any wall or sculpture; no museum or book ever held an artifact so rare and so perfect.

It was just the one night.

One night sitting among aristocrats while Amon was elsewhere. Anywhere else, but with her.

“Milady? Is everything alright? Do you require another refreshment?” Startled out of her woe, Essie focuses her eyes upon the serving lady who had paused before her.

“Oh, no that’s alright, thank you. Actually would you mind, dear?”

The woman offers a curtsy before accepting the only half-empty glass of wine. “Of course, milady. Would you prefer a different beverage instead?” “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer though. If you could excuse me.” “Certainly, milady.”

She had to get out of here. Her chest ached with longing. Even if Amon was not back at the estate, home sounded a better place to feel miserable and lonely than standing among people both looking for connections, working, or both. She didn’t have the energy for all of this. There wasn’t enough patience in the world or emotional stability to deal with anything that might even remotely infringe on disrespectful.

Passing through the lounge room and into the even livelier dance and socialization space, Essätha works her way through the people laughing, drinking, and being merry. Her eyes peer around, hopeful for the sight of the host of the house.

“Hey! Lady Meduza, out of the sitting room I see. Come join us.” “Thank you Madame Florence but no, I’m looking for Madame Alice. Have you seen her?” “I have not dear. Are you… sure you don’t want to join us, though?” The young woman waves to her throng of gossip girls. “You look a bit frazzled, darling.”

“Oh, is that a slip on my appearance Flo?” The sorceress laughs, waving a hand as she passes. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.” “Milady?” She pretends not to have noticed the curious murmur of the woman. It was rude perhaps, but she simply didn’t have the mental and emotional capacity to play pretend, right now. The space felt suffocating.

Speaking with a two gentlewoman she didn’t recognize, Essätha gratefully spots the host. She sighs through her nose with relief as she straightens herself to poise and moves to approach.

Madame Florence meets her eyes as she moves in closer, grinning. “Oh- Lady Meduza! A pleasure. Ladies, this is Lady Essätha Meduza, the ruling noble of the Sunshine Meadows.”

“How do you do, milady.”

“A pleasure.”

“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you both,” Essie breathes, offering a polite inclination to their curtsies. She turns her attention swiftly back to the older woman.

“I’m sorry to have intruded your conversation darling, but I’m afraid I must see to my leave.”

“So soon?” Florence’s brow furrows. “It’s still so early in the evening, milady. Did something happen?”

“The party is lovely, Flo; don’t mistake my insistence on revulsion. I am just… not feeling well. Everything is stunning; the decorum and set-up superb, everyone has been lovely but I really need to be getting home and resting.”

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that Essie,” the woman croons. Sympathy fills her expression; enough to make the noblewoman feel guilt for her weak will. Even still, it did not encourage her socialization further. She just wanted to be home already- hopefully to see that Amon was well and safe and then perhaps, curl up in her bed and feel distressed and conflicted over her feelings.

She places a hand on her shoulder. “Would you care for an escort home?”

“No, thank you Flo, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I could have a carriage brought.”

“Really Flo, I’ll be okay. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“That’s alright, I understand. Take care of yourself,” the older woman replies, squeezing her shoulder a bit tighter. “I can walk you to the door.”

“Absolutely not, and leave your friends-” the sorceress flashes the two ladies each a smile; one of which appears to blush and bashfully shy beneath her gaze “- I know my way out. Though I hope you can all excuse me for introductions today, perhaps another time.”

One of the women dips her head respectfully. “I look forward to that, milady.”

“Definitely a next time,” the other states, nearly breathless as her gaze glides over her.

Florence removes her hand from her shoulder to accept Essie’s hand in a handshake, brief but firm.

“Thank you for the lovely time this evening, Flo,” Essätha remarks. She’s grateful for the release of her hand.

“Be careful getting home.”

Nodding and murmuring a final thanks, she slips away before anymore distractions could suck her in. She should feel more shame for her pining. There was strength in will-power and a solitary life. Yet all around her, the function felt empty; lacking. Senses of humor clashed, struggles for relevance, people wanting to have the final say, lack of empathy in some… There were people; like Flo, worth having a conversation with, of that there was no doubt.

She wanted more than this, though. If it was her and a thousand admirers, it still wouldn’t feel as warm and welcoming as the sound of Amon’s laughter at his own joke as he shyly tried to turn himself away from her so she couldn’t feel the radiance of his joy.

Essie squeezes through some of the people standing around. Her golden eyes land on a man that seems to pivot his own direction to sync with hers.

“My my, where are you off to in such a rush, milady?”

Not you.

“The powder room, Xanner,” she lies absently.

The man’s hand; a shade or two darker brew of coffee than her own skintone, reaches out for her arm.

“Well, you’re headed the wrong way,” he states whilst flashing a smile. “The lavatory is this way.”

He pulls on her arm; mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

She forcefully tugs; ripping her arm free.

“I can find it on my own.”

Shock shows on his face. He looks around; but only for a moment, for justification on his own behalf. The only one that seems to have caught the interaction looks away swiftly.

“… Well when you are done, milady, I would enjoy offering you a dance.” He presses a hand to his chest, bowing to her low and deep.

“Noted. And perhaps the next time you will remember to think before laying your hand on me without permission.”

Frost laces her tongue. I know what you want from me.

A thrill briefly skirts up her spine. She could imagine how Amon would have reacted to such an act. She was usually very forgiving of physical contact from the right people. Xanner however, was far from being on the list of forgiveness.

Her bodyguard would have had him by the throat in seconds, snarling at him to beg for an apology for laying a hand upon her unauthorized. It would have left an uproar throughout much of the higher society, but it wouldn’t have mattered to her.

She looked delicate compared to Amon; easy to walk over. He didn’t give them the option to do so. In fact, she didn’t have to spend rounds of verbal defense to get them off her back with him around. A simple warning well-placed snarl or hand on someone firmly often sent them away.

It also had a way of rousing in her that which she could fail to deny. She enjoyed his protective status a bit too much. Paid for or not, he had a way of making her feel safe and taken care of in ways she couldn’t express. It felt real. Like he wanted to do. Like he liked her; wants for her a sense of security and to give her a place to be free to be stress. She could relax her status a bit more with him around to be herself, and he would defend her from those who wanted to take advantage of her openness.

Fuck, the way she would open her legs for that man after watching him just stare someone down, daring them to mess with her…

Lady Essätha swallows, grateful to see the mudroom’s doors to slip out. A few people dip their heads and try to murmur something to her. The footman standing at the door offers to fetch her coat while she stands in idle wait, ignoring the few eyes that turn towards her curiously as she fixes her hair and stares at the door. She wanted nothing about her exterior position to invite conversation; she was so close.

Offered her garment, she slips the man a gold coin and her gratitude before slipping out into the cool evening air.

The sun was still up.

It was a jarring realization. She really hadn’t been here for maybe two hours, at most. Supper and little time thereafter. It would make the travel easier, but how embarrassing for her. Lady Meduza, woman of the Sunshine Meadows, ruler and protector of the territory, the first to leave an extravagant party of socialites, elitists, and aristocrats. She could game that quite a number of curious people were going to ask where she went off to this evening.

Too late now. She’d already committed, and her heart was already galloping at the idea like a fool to the very possibility she may see Amon at home.

If he hadn’t gone out. Taverns, inns, bars; plenty of pretty woman in town tended to stare at him. A charming, good looking man like him with a popular hero-streak. The ladies ate it up.

Jealousy hissed in the back of her mind. Essie bit the inside of her cheek, sighing through her nose. She could feel a distressing amount of hurt aching in her chest at the thought. In the end, she had to remind herself that he wasn’t hers. Or at least, not in the way her heart longed for.

He offered her his sword, and extended a meek hand to friendship, and his side of the bed when it was convenient for them both for sex. Nothing more.

Not the more she wanted, anyway. Wrongly. A liar for saying she could only take him in distant lust and nothing more.

Lamplighters were busy wandering the emptying streets she passed. Her eyes remained up; a vigilant alertness taking over her mind. The last time she had allowed herself alone the presence of being in her own head, she’d nearly been killed.

“Good evenin’, milady.”

“Good evenin’!”

She makes eye-contact with people along the streets, making sure to be seen and noticed.

Moving past a bar, already an overflowing amount of patrons stood around. Most were dressed in exotic attire. Ah, must be one of the traveling shows that came in town for the theater was coming through.

“AYE! Aye! Aye you, you lady-”

Head on a swivel, she turns towards the sound; brow furrowed.

A man breaks away from the group, a pint in each hand. He thrusts one towards her as he nears, the amber liquid splashing on her shoes even as she jumps back.

“Would you-” a hiccup “-care to join us for drinks?”

Essie offers a charming smile, tugging her coat a bit tighter around herself. “I’m actually on my way home for the evening, thank you though. That’s a kind gesture.” He frowns. “It’d be far kinder if you’d accept.”

“It is also kind to allow others to be on their way, sir. Thank you again for the offer, but I must be on my way.”

A wolf-whistle cuts through the crowd, and suddenly the frowning man is no longer alone as more begin to stumble and shuffle their way over.

“Heeeeyy Malcolm you found a woman who can tolerate speakin’ to you for more than ten seconds, huh?”

“Oh no look at her face, she’s ready to flee.”

“Hey there beautiful.”

“Damn babe, you come from the Gilded Spire? Your eyes shine brighter than the treasures of the Queen’s hoard.”

“Wow, that’s a nice coat-”

“You should take it off.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, tightly holding to her garment until her knuckles were bone-white. The practiced smile strains against her face as she steps back from the approaching men. Some looked more sloshed than others, but all of them were staring her up and down like wolves in search of a quick meal.

“Mmm, thank you gentleman but I know my way-”

“What’s the rush?”

Turning, Essie freezes as she realizes the semi-circle around her had closed. The man before her reeked of bourbon as he grins at her. There was no malice, but the sheer amount of testosterone and sweat was nauseating.

“I have to get home, someone’s waiting on me,” the sorceress replies; trying to disguise the desperation leeching her tone.

“Well I’ve been waitin’ on you too all my life, gorgeous.”

Whoever spoke up behind her reaches in for a grope on her ass and she nearly jumps out of her skin and into the man in front of her.

“Don’t touch me!” Magic flairs around her; a whirlwind of wispy plum and twinkling starlight.

The group of men instantly take steps back.

“Wooaahh there misses, take it down a notch.”

“We’re sorry ma’am.”

“I just wanted to get to know ya.”

“Typical woman; can’t even take a compliment.”

“Tease.”

Face red with humiliation, she huffs, moving to shove past the nearest one. He makes no indication of stopping her, raising his hands in surrender as she stomps by.

Demonizing laughter follows her.

“What a bitch.”

“She wasn’t even that good looking.”

“Yeah, who does miss prissy think she is?”

“Wearing something like that too… definitely a tease.”

“Did you see her scales? Imagine having to pretend to like touching that man, haha.”

It wasn’t worth the trouble of rounding back on them.

Her eyes burning; stinging as she swallowed and blinked rapidly.

She didn’t care about their opinions. They were stupid, drunk, hideous creatures who thought if they laid their intentions on quick and heavy, they’d get a quick gratitude blowjob. Tell a woman she’s pretty and she’d be desperate enough for it. As though a woman would beg for them to fuck her for acknowledging she existed.

Essie’s lip wobbles.

Did she look that easy?

Fidgeting with coat, she turns down another primary road. All the buildings on this street were residential. She could see the brick wall to her manor from here. Thank Gods, all she wanted was to find the quietest spot on her grounds. Maybe the mother-in-law suite. No one would see her to pester her about why she was home so soon and in tears there.

The crunch of footsteps catches her attention. Feeling chills race down her spine, she turns towards the noise.

One of the men from the bar.

Grimacing, Essie blinks back her tears and stands her ground firmly to face him.

The defiance seems to make him hesitate, slowing his approach to a halt.

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

Iridescent light flickers over her curls; a hiss of venom kissing each word.

He stares at her, silently. A cold sweat moves down her spine.

“Or what? You’ll scream?”

Her shoes shifts backwards against the ground.

He takes a step forward, running his tongue over his lips.

“I like it when they scream.”

She lifts her hand but it’s a few seconds too slow. His own shoots up forming a pattern as magic flares around her.

The mouthed ancient draconic that leaves her lips is only shapes. There is no noise. Even as he steps forward, and her mouth opens into an infuriated shriek that is nothing but breath.

“You can do that later, when we’re somewhere more private~”

He rushes her.

This maniac couldn’t be serious?

The sleaze is on her in moments. He grabs for her and she wrenches to the side, knocking a blow to his chin and sending him staggering back with a curse.

The manor was only down the street. All she had to do was get there.

Essatha turns; running as fast and hard as her legs could carry her. Blood roars in her ears, the heavy sound of breathing gaining on her rapidly.

A hand reaches out and yanks her hair, sending her reeling with a yelp of pain as she emerges from the silencing bubble.

“HEL-”

He throws her to the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her lungs. Gasping, stomach to the ground, the man jumps on her like a wild animal. He presses his body down into her, pulling a knife from somewhere to rest against her throat.

“Shut up!” he snarls, smashing the handle into the back of her head so she saw stars. “You’re going to stay quiet until I tell you you can talk. Do you understand?”

Grabbing a handful of dirt, Essatha throws it back at him. He gasps as dust settles in his eyes and on his mouth, gagging him. While he’s distracted, she pitches her hips to roll; knocking him off herself as she wheezes for air.

Her neck hurts. She reaches up to place a hand to it, jumping to her feet.

A scream rips out of her as the blade meets her ankle, sending her down to her knees.

“Shut the fuck up bitch!”

Grabbing her from behind, her tries to cup a hand over her mouth as they struggle. A door up the street opens from the commotion.

Essie rams her elbow back into his ribs as she struggles, buying herself another moment of freedom.

She says the first thing that comes to mind.

“AMON!”

Her face hits the ground so fast that all she tastes is blood. There’s a disjointed few precious seconds that time slips from her grasp and she becomes well aware of the way the man grinds himself against her. Hard and dominating; the humiliation making her stomach twist.

Another door in the street opens, this time someone stepping out.

Thank Jubaeta.

Clawing the ground, she bucks her hips up as hard as she could. He only groans; having anchored his weight between her and the ground that it does little more than edge his excitement.

“GET OFF OF ME!”

“Be quiet! God if you shut up I’ll even make it good for you, you fucking slut.”

“GET OFF-”

The noblewoman struggles; finding her already mediocre strength beginning to drain the more she attempts to pry herself from beneath him or throw him off. He hits her again.

“HELP!”

A hand wraps around her throw, shoving her down as he strangles her. Teeth clamp over her ear painfully.

“Hello?”

Cursing loudly, the man moves to sit up. He presses all of his weight into the hand around her neck; taking every ounce of air from her as she struggles like a fish out of water.

“Come on,” he hisses.

No sooner than he’s loosened his hand and grabbed for her wrists, she throws herself free into the dirt, leaving him stumbling after her as she rolls away. An audible wheeze escapes Essie as she pushes herself to her feet, the world jerking from side to side with each breath.

She tries to take a step and her wounded ankle immediately gives out, sending her back to the ground. A glance behind her and she could see the pool of red from her sliced tendon.

Shadows emerge onto the streets now. Swallowing around her tight, hoarse throat, Essatha prepares to scream again-

As the knife suddenly plunges into her back.

A pained rattle breaks through her lungs. What the fuck was-

It happens again, the man swearing as she gapes…

The next thing she’s aware of, her face is pressed into the dirt once more. There are voices shouting and hollering. All she tastes is the metallic flavor of blood and the coating of dust on her tongue.

Not the Whispered Shadow. Not even an enemy of Etheron.

All of this for sex?

Someone is apparently attempting to wrestle and subdue her attacker, because she can hear flying curse words and shouts to release the weapon. More voices begin to chime in, with someone saying they needed a healer. The entire scene feels like it’s unraveling to pure chaos as more of her neighbors begin to step outside from all the commotion.

Her eyes close, and open again. Close, then open.

A weak gasp; her jagged breath catching in her throat. The pain dulled. Her body was failing her; giving in. Darkness clouded her vision, and she leaned into it. Her blood on the streets and soaking through her clothing as she grew colder and colder.

She didn’t want to die alone. Mayhem and people shouting and crying; no one sure on what to do, her damaged body left to fail her. Was she destined to this fate?

This is how it began and how it ended, alone.

For a moment, she is weightless. The world shifts and her head tips back until it finds a new home, cradled against someone’s chest.

Familiar cobalt eyes stare down at her.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” a thick, gruff voice chokes out.

She would have smiled if only she could. Instead, her eyes fell closed.

“No, no, no- no! Stay with me. Stay with me, please- Essie I’ve got you.”

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

She takes a deep, rattling breath; head lulling against his shoulder limply.

He didn’t leave her to go alone.

“Essätha!”

The movement jostling her body feels so detached. The strings that kept her tethered to reality snipped one by one as her consciousness faded.

“Essätha no- no please wake up. Open your eyes. I’m right here please- please- Please I need you! Ess…”

The last of his words fell away into the nothingness that absorbed her, only to open her eyes to a figure with raven’s feathers and a porcelain complexion…

#qhost story #OTP: Essamon #Essatha Meduza #Amon Illiad #Amon Cleremont #painfully written #Noble Essie Vagabond Amon AU #rip my ability to complete anything i guess

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