Stuck [Open]

[Polly]

It was too cold to go outside. Well, not for everyone. Children ran around throwing balls of snow at each other. Young women wandered around attempting to sell flowers or fruit to those who happened to be out and about on some kind of business. On the surface, Pell looked like a rather boring place. In the winter time the dullness seemed to double. What Pell needed was something interested and dramatic to happen; some sort of catalyst to wake up the residents and unbury all the deep dark secrets woven into the very foundation of the city. Polly would love to watch it crumble.

It did not matter how many layers of clothing Polly piled on top of herself. She was still cold, still trapped inside of that stupid tavern, and still bored. She looked stunning, as most of Pell’s residence did who had money to spend. She wore a long coat that fell to the floor dyed with a rich purple dye. This was worn over a white silver gown. Her boots were white and lined with fur from a snow leopard. For added warmth, a cloak made of snow leopard fur was draped around her. She even wore white gloves lined in the same fur.

It did little to help. Her lips were blue as she stared moodily out the window. Polly hated winter and this one seemed to be worse than the others. She was afraid that going outside would cause her body enough stress to force her to shift. Then she would be a cold blooded creature stuck in the snow. Not good. The Serpent’s Hall was a nice tavern, but so far it was boring. It was late afternoon. The drunks had yet to arrive to spice things up. Polly needed something to do.

Her gloved hand touched the ice cold window pane and she shivered. Surely there were more exciting things out there! The temptation to go outside was great. Polly could not be sure if she was trembling out of cold or desire. She had not meant to be stuck in Pell. The snowstorm came as a surprise. There was no way she could survive a trip back to Illinor City in those conditions. She would be forced to wait it out. In the meantime, perhaps she could find a way to entertain herself. The fire at her back felt so good, Polly didn’t know if she had the willpower to leave it.

[Jasar]

It wasn't the cold that brought him to the tavern that day, no, Jasar was used to that. Nord was a village far to the north, even farther than this city. He was hungry. And he liked ale.

He entered the tavern, throwing his wolf skin cape over his shoulder as he stared around at the tavern dispassionately. It was more crowded than Jasar would have liked, and he noticed that there were some who gave him strange looks. It wasn't unusual; people weren't used to barbarians with giant axes strapped to their back walking into a tavern. Apparently it made them nervous.

Lips twitching in annoyance at all the stares, he went to the bartender, ordering a drink without words, just a series of grunts and nods. He got bread in a similar fashion, then settled down to eat. He chose a table near a woman who was staring out a window. He chose to sit near her because women rarely ventured to talk to him. They either thought he was a brute who wouldn't understand, or that he would try to force himself upon them. He snorted, finding that idea idiotic. Of course he wouldn't do such things. He was a barbarian, not a savage.

He began eating rather crudely. In the village of Nord, there was no need for manners. Chomping down on his bread, he began taking great swigs of ale, splashing some onto the table below and spilling crumbs everywhere.

[Polly]

The door burst open, letting in a draft of cold and thereby capturing Polly’s attention. Her glittering black eyes took in his burly frame, the wolf skin cape, and the axe strapped to his back. He looked barbaric. Judging from the looks he was getting from the other people, Polly was not the only one who thought so. She smiled to herself. She had a battle axe of her own stored safely away in her room. It was one of those things a lady such as her should not carry around Pell. Axes were considered crude and unseemly. This man did not seem to care for social norms.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he ordered and chose a seat. Right near her! Oh, how lovely! It was as though the brute practically invited her to play. Slowly, she turned her face away from the window to look at him directly, a sweet smile playing across her blue lips. She could practically feel the blade of her axe slipping effortlessly in between his ribs, severing his spinal column. But in so small a place, was murder really a good idea? The answer was a simple one for Polly.

The shifter bit her lip shyly and stood, hesitantly approaching the man. “Excuse me, might I share your company? I am rather lonely and you are the first interesting person I have seen all day.” Her gaze slid appreciatively over his muscle, lingering slightly on the axe strapped to his back, and then worked its way back to his face. The man certainly looked as though he could hold his own in a fight. Judging from his table manners, or lack thereof, he had not wasted his life learning social etiquette. Polly had never met a barbarian before.

[Jasar]

Jasar curled his lip at the woman's approach. He followed her gaze, his face showing untamed disgust. He hated those outside his tribe, and he hated them even more when they approached him. He fixed her with a steely glare, hoping that would send her the message before he went back to eating, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He eyed her for a few moments, his eyes glittering coldly.

She thought he was interesting. An oddity. Disrespectful whelp. He was not one to sit on display. He was a barbarian, not some sort of animal at a zoo. He raised his chin slightly, watching her with narrowed eyes. He hadn't given her an answer technically, so he wondered if she would leave on her own accord. Or she might take his silence as a yes. Finding this to be undesirable, he decided he had to speak.

"Why should I care if you're lonely or not?" His glare sharpened. "I'm not your entertainer."

[Polly]

Her perceptive eyes took in his hostility, studying him, weighing him like a melon at the market. This was not a difficult thing to do. The man was flinging his annoyance and irritation straight at her and his obvious strength was there for all to see. This one would not be wooed, then, but pushed. The interesting thing was, if a fight started in there they would all blame him. Nobody would call her murderer, because he was the barbarian. Polly had been nothing but kind to the lot of them. They would think he was trying to assault her and rush to her aid.

Well, that would be annoying. Polly did not want their help. No matter, she would show them such a thing was unnecessary. Her skin began to darken into brown with the more sensitive spots yellowing to cream. Her skin became scaled and cracked as she stepped towards the barbarian.

"I'm not your entertainer."

She had to smile at that. “I don’t believe you have a choice,” she murmured quietly as she took another step towards him. “You see all these people? They are dull and weak. But not you. I believe you know how to use that axe strapped to your back…”

At this point, she reached out and touched his shoulder in a caressing, loving way. Everything about her seemed oddly gentle. Polly did not fear his reaction. Her reflexes were twice as fast as a human’s. As she looked down at him, the whites of her eyes became as black as the rest and her canines became two wicked fangs, dripping with poison. Her tongue flicked out once, and it was long and forked. She had her back to the rest of the room. They would not notice her transformation by looking at her back.

“How about a friendly duel, my dear sir? I have an axe of my own, you see. It is waiting in my room.” She was not really giving him a choice. Polly wanted to play, so play she would. If he did not wish to entertain her himself, then she would entertain herself by using him. It was as simple as that. When Polly chose a victim, that was it. Polly had never missed a kill before. Her body was energized with the power of excitement and the passion of the hunt. This man was nothing more than another mouse.

[Jasar]

Jasar smacked her hand away, face darkening. Disgusting creature... Disgusting inhuman creature. He stared at her transformation, contempt in his eyes. Was he supposed to fear her? Was her hideous form supposed to set him off? She was just one of those disgusting shifters.

"No," he replied coldly. He would not fight her. He was not one to fight women that were so much smaller than him. Not only that, but it would give her too much satisfaction. "Find someone who cares."

He went back to eating, finishing off his bread before draining his tankard. He was no fool. If he killed her, he knew what would happen. He was a barbarian. The people of this town would seek to kill him, thinking that he assaulted a woman for no reason. They didn't know her as the disgusting creature that she was.