Lady Door of the House of Arch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iopenthings) wrote2005-08-11 12:59 pm
iopenthings) wrote2005-08-11 12:59 pm
Escape from Earl's Court
Door wakes slowly, her head throbbing.
Dark. It's dark, and too warm, and...
Oh. Oh, no. Her wrists, tied behind her back - no, tied to her ankles. Fuck.
But not quite tight enough. Just a finger on a knot, and it's undone, and she's free, and-
A guard, coming towards her- sword-
"Let me go, and I won't harm you."
The sword is coming down
(Dead or alive - alive is preferable, but if she gives you any problems...)
but Door's hand on his wrist is faster.
The opened artery won't kill him if they find him quickly.
Moving - the train is starting, and she lunges at the door, Opens, jumps, lands hard on her shoulder, bites back a howl of pain, and is on her feet and running.
Running. She can run. She's done this before, run for days and days, and she knows London Below better now than she did then, knows all the secret ways and this way to Sloane Square.
So she runs.
Velvets. Velvets, why are Velvets here, isn't it the middle of the day?
But she doesn't actually know what time of day it is, and she'd rather she hadn't seen anyone (don't leave a trail) but here they are, so she slows to a walk, nods regally to them, suppresses a shiver as they part before her - so cold, they must not have been eating well of late.
She's past them, breathing a sigh of relief, when her chain flames against the nape of her neck, and she spins, catching a deep knife thrust across her left arm. It scrapes bone and she screams, but her right hand has already hit the wall and she is running through a sewer, blood dripping down her arm.
Not to Sloane Square, then.
Not to the House of Arch - she won't lead anyone there.
Not to the Ratspeakers - they are loyal, but no match for any serious attack.
She'll have to go it alone.
She moves through London Below, tunnel to rooftop to deserted Victorian street.
Behind her, she hears the quiet swish of velvet.
Dark. It's dark, and too warm, and...
Oh. Oh, no. Her wrists, tied behind her back - no, tied to her ankles. Fuck.
But not quite tight enough. Just a finger on a knot, and it's undone, and she's free, and-
A guard, coming towards her- sword-
"Let me go, and I won't harm you."
The sword is coming down
(Dead or alive - alive is preferable, but if she gives you any problems...)
but Door's hand on his wrist is faster.
The opened artery won't kill him if they find him quickly.
Moving - the train is starting, and she lunges at the door, Opens, jumps, lands hard on her shoulder, bites back a howl of pain, and is on her feet and running.
Running. She can run. She's done this before, run for days and days, and she knows London Below better now than she did then, knows all the secret ways and this way to Sloane Square.
So she runs.
Velvets. Velvets, why are Velvets here, isn't it the middle of the day?
But she doesn't actually know what time of day it is, and she'd rather she hadn't seen anyone (don't leave a trail) but here they are, so she slows to a walk, nods regally to them, suppresses a shiver as they part before her - so cold, they must not have been eating well of late.
She's past them, breathing a sigh of relief, when her chain flames against the nape of her neck, and she spins, catching a deep knife thrust across her left arm. It scrapes bone and she screams, but her right hand has already hit the wall and she is running through a sewer, blood dripping down her arm.
Not to Sloane Square, then.
Not to the House of Arch - she won't lead anyone there.
Not to the Ratspeakers - they are loyal, but no match for any serious attack.
She'll have to go it alone.
She moves through London Below, tunnel to rooftop to deserted Victorian street.
Behind her, she hears the quiet swish of velvet.