#Brenna Larossa | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miranthia · 7 years ago

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.:Wind | 28/30:.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Characters: Constance Macayle, Singleton, Brenna Larossa, Ireth Falassion, Myron Shaw, Dahlia mentioned

Pairing: Macarenna sorta

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention/hint/allusion to rape, blood, murder

THIS.....is super dark.

For me, anyway.

I never actually go into any details about anything, nor will I EVER.......but it's there.

And yes, I'm ok, I promise. I just.....got the urge to write, and after I did the dialogue for a different fic that I hope to finish soon, this one popped up in my head and I had to go through with it. I miss writing, and I miss doing things with my characters. Especially Mac!

BUT, I've never really done much that fleshed out her background.

Until now.

Sorta.

Tada?

Also also; I actually wrote this quite a while ago and am just now fixing it up 8′D

FOR REAL PEOPLE; IF THE TRIGGERS ABOVE BOTHER YOU DON’T READ IT. THAT’S WHAT THE BOLD IS FOR, AND THE ‘KEEP READING’ LINE.

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Pain.

Pain was the only thing that she knew.

She remembered sneaking up to the manor, the wind howling around her in the early morning light, and then everything ran together in a swirl of agony and darkness. She had no idea how long it had been; three hours, three days, three years.....she had no way of knowing.

He was relentless.

She didn't even have time to shut her brain off, and go numb to the things that were happening to her. The pain was constantly overwhelming her senses, and each time he came back, she thought she would die. She wished that she would die, rather than go through with this.

Death would not become her.

She had come there for a reason; in the early morning light, through the howling wind. And while she had not planned on this happening, she still had a score to settle with this man.

Now, she had even more of a reason to fight.

The room that she was locked in was much darker than it had been, her vision steadily returning to her feverish eyes as she slowly looked about. He hadn't returned to her in several hours, the fire nearly to embers. She sucked in a sharp breath as she chanced a look up at the solitary window, the dark silhouette of trees swaying in the wind greeting her sight.

He had either exhausted himself and had fallen asleep, or he was out of the house.

Either way; time was of the essence.

Every move she made sent a new wave of pain through her entire body, and she could no longer tell if the salty taste in her mouth was from sweat, tears, blood, or all three. Her back throbbed and stung against the hard mattress beneath it, the chains around her wrists and ankles clinking together softly at the slightest movement she made.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight as she tugged her right ankle, remembering the sound of the wood splintering the last time he had been down there. Her legs and inner thighs screamed in protest with every move she made, her quiet whimpers filling the small room. She took in a deep breath and jerked with all of her might, the chain breaking free. She swallowed the scream that threatened to rip out of her lungs, taking in several deep breaths before working on her other ankle. The shackle slipped off of her raw appendage with little effort, the combination of blood and sweat providing enough of a lubricant to help the restraint along.

Stiff fingers wrapped around the chains at her wrists, the girl taking in another deep breath as she pulled with all of her might yet again, trying to push herself up the cot with her legs at the same time. She cried out in agony as she managed to move a fraction, the pain in her arms and between her thighs almost unbearable. She whimpered quietly into the side of her arm, not giving up until she had enough slack to prop herself up to the best of her abilities.

She sighed deeply after she controlled the sobs wracking through her body, resting her clammy forehead against her bent arms, feeling what little strength she had drain out of her.

She was half-tempted to give up.

But as she looked up, and saw the nail jutting out of the wall; the same one she had seen as she was thrown to this very cot and shackled to it, she grit her teeth and stretched towards the heavens. The tips of her fingers barely touched it, her muscles and ribs screaming in protest as she stretched out as far as she could, throbbing fingers working at the nail to pull it from the stone. With one last tug the object came free, the girl collapsing and shaking quietly from the pain and the exhaustion.

She allowed herself a moment's rest before she pulled herself up once more, and fit the sharp end of the nail into the lock. Her hands trembled as she jiggled the object around, a click finally reaching her ears. Sitting up slowly, swallowing back the nausea, she unlocked the remaining shackle around her ankle.

Her tender feet touched the cold stone underneath them, and as she tried to stand she collapsed to the ground, curling in on herself. She sobbed into the clothes beneath her, the agonizing waves of pain shooting up through her spine for what felt like an eternity, the dying firelight glistening off of the open and bleeding gashes along her naked back.

Every breath she took.

Every move she made, whether it be insignificant or major, felt like she was ripping in two from the inside out.

She felt useless, and utterly broken. Her body had gone through so much torture and trauma that she didn't even know how she could still draw breath. She didn’t even know if she still wanted to.

At this point, she wondered if it was better to just give up.

Amid the swirling emotions and thoughts that reeled through her brain, one thought stuck out amid the rest: He still lived. He was still capable of doing this to other girls and women, for many more years to come.

He would continue to do this.

Unless she stopped him.

She slowly pushed herself up to her knees, drying her eyes on the blood-stained sheet of the cot and gritting her teeth with determination. She rummaged through her ruined clothes and slowly pulled her top on, wincing and sucking in sharp breaths with her every movement. She set her pants atop the cot and mustered her remaining strength to pull herself back onto the mattress, steadying her breathing as she pulled the garment, then her boots, back onto her body.

Bit by agonizing bit she stood to her feet, feeling her unsteady legs tremble beneath her. She pulled her pants the rest of the way up and chanced a step forward, stumbling into the small table in the center of the room. Her thighs seared in pain, the throbbing in her core intensifying the longer she stood. She wiped the sweat out of her eyes, brow furrowing in anger and frustration as she pushed herself back up and hobbled towards the locked door, nail still in hand and her breath escaping her lungs in ragged pants. She stumbled to the door, grasping the handle firmly as she inserted the nail into the lock, picking it in a matter of seconds. Just as it clicked and she swung the door open, she spied a heavy mallet hanging on the wall. The adrenaline now coursing through her veins renewed her hatred and her strength, ripping the heavy weapon off of its pegs as she crawled up the stairs, keeping her movements as quiet as she possibly could.

Hours seemed to tick by as she slowly ascended the wooden stairs before her, her entire body struggling to comply with her will. Finally she reached the landing, taking a moment to rest on the very top step. She pressed her face into the side of her arm, muffling the sounds of her heavy breathing and whimpers of pain. After swiping her sweaty forehead against her arm she grasped hold of the door handle with one hand, using the mallet to push herself up with the other as she pulled. Once steadied, she chanced the handle grasped firmly in her hand, surprised when she found that it was unlocked. She inched the door open slowly, stepping through the threshold when nothing came to investigate.

Amid the sounds of her throbbing heart, she could hear the wind howling outside, a fire crackling away in the room adjacent to hers. Gripping the handle of the mallet tightly she limped forward, her eyes zeroed in on the light flooding through the doorway.

He was standing in front of the blazing fire, fingers twirling the stolen locket in one hand as he sipped at something in his other hand. The smirk that he wore went unseen, a tuneless hum leaving him as he stared at the crackling logs, completely unaware of the woman sneaking up behind him.

Unbridled rage swelled up inside of her body as she kept her eyes glued to his back, her grip on the handle of the mallet so tight her knuckles were turning white. She inched forward slowly, breathing quietly through her mouth so she was not heard. When she was so close she could touch him she raised the mallet up and swung down with everything she had, an enraged scream ripping itself out of her lungs.

He buckled and yelled in agony, both the drink and the locket dropping from his hands as his broken shoulder dangled uselessly at his side, his body careening to one side before pitching forward. He screamed out again as the other shoulder was struck as well before both of his knees were smashed, leaving him completely incapacitated.

She stood over his prone and broken body, panting for breath as another surge of adrenaline rushed through her. Without a second thought she forced her body to bend, rolling her adversary over onto his back. As his eyes widened in shock at the realization of who his attacker was, and what just happened, she allowed herself to smile.

“What are you screaming and crying for? There’s absolutely no reason for it!”

She crouched down beside him, watching him struggle to move his arms and his legs, his agonized curses and pleas falling upon deaf ears.

“Stop fighting it, sweetheart.” she slowly stood up to her feet, bringing the mallet up once more. “Relax, and allow the sensations to overwhelm you. You’ll learn to enjoy. Every. Single. Repetitious. Motion! You’ll be begging for more before you know it.” she enunciated each word with a swing of the mallet, bringing it crashing down onto the man’s groin as many times as she could as those same words echoed in her mind, her own screams faintly filling her ears.

As he screamed and cried and spluttered, blood dribbling down his stark-white chin, she knelt down next to him once more. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Singleton. I always keep my promises.” she spit on his broken body derisively and forced herself to her feet, limping over to the blazing fireplace. With a kick she dislodged several of the burning logs, not even wincing as the puddle of alcohol took fire, the floor quickly becoming consumed. The light glinting off of the fallen locket caught her eye and she bent to scoop it up, rolling a log towards her enemy. She squeezed the object in her hand and glanced down at the screaming man, his leg engulfed in fire.

Without a backward glance she limped towards the front door, a bottle of alcohol exploding behind her. As the screaming intensified she stopped momentarily, turning her head towards the blazing inferno slightly. “This was for Dahlia, you bastard.”

With that she left the Manor behind, the wind catching the licking flames and soon engulfing the entire building. If it hadn’t been for the three month drought, the house would have never burnt in the first place.

“The forest is no place for a warrioress! How far could this blasted Tavern be?” a woman huffed as she stumbled yet again along the uneven path, wincing as her ankle rolled slightly. “I’ll be happy to never set foot in the wilderness ever again!”

She straightened her tunic and took another step forward, tripping over a jutting object and sailing to the dusty ground beneath her. “Maybe I should stop drinking…”

She dusted herself off and chanced a look at the thing that had tripped her, arching an eyebrow at the sight before her. Instead of another tree root, it was the boot clad foot of some passed-out sot. At first glance it looked to be a dirty, disheveled, homeless woman.

“Perfect, now I’m tripping over random people in the woods. Wonderful.” she pulled herself to her knees and sighed heavily, eyeing the prone form in distaste. “Excuse me miss? Hello? Perhaps the next time you feel to take a nap, you should refrain from hanging over into a path. Can you hear me?”

“Hellooooo?”

She frowned and moved closer to the other woman, her mouth going dry and her stomach dropping as she studied her further. She was covered in dirt and soot, and her clothes were ripped and torn. That much was obvious.

On closer inspection, most of the dark splotches covering her were deep bruises. Her face was covered in dried blood and cuts, bruises swelling certain places. Her entire body, the parts that weren’t hidden by her ruined clothes, was covered in even more dried blood, bruises, and gashes.

The warrioress took it all in in a horrified silence, reaching a timid hand out to press to the woman’s forehead, the skin searing her palm. To her relief the woman twitched slightly, slowly turning her head to the other side. “Don………...don’t t-touch…….m-me….”

“It is alright, I won’t hurt you. I promise.” she wet her dry mouth slowly, feeling hot tears of anger well up in the corner of her eyes. She shook out of it after a moment, returning her attention to the injured woman. “Are….are you able to move?”

The woman’s eyes rolled underneath the feverish lids, her throat bobbing several times as the faint and raspy voice escaped her lips once more. “N...no.”

She nodded and took a limp arm in one hand, pulling the injured woman up with her and slinging it over her shoulder. The agonized yell that ripped out of her new companions' lungs sent a cold chill down her spine, the warrioress fighting the urge to cry with the woman. She grit her teeth and wrapped an arm around the trembling waist, ignoring the pain in her own ankle. “There is a Tavern not too far ahead. It will be slow going, but I can get you there. All I ask, is you try to help as best as you can.”

She felt the head nod next to her, internally sighing in relief as she felt the weight lift slightly off of her shoulders.

The two took a few unsteady steps forward, the quiet gasps of pain tearing her up from the inside, but the injured woman did not stop, nor did she ask to.

“I’ll get you there my lady, I promise.”

They slowly limped on in relative silence, a sign for the tavern in question obscured by the overgrown trees. They had less than a mile before they reached The Black Nag, and an hour to go before night fell.

Hopefully, they would make it.

"Aye, take the last of those apples out to th' ol' nag, Ireth. We may as well close up for the e'nin."

"Throwing the towel in so early, Myron?" the elf asked with a snort, resting her broom against the wall and striding up to the counter. "It's only just now dark, I'm sure there will be customers before too long. Creators know there are enough drunken sots around these parts."

The old man snorted, returning to the dirty glass he had been attempting to clean. Before he could answer her the front doors swung open, the customers stumbling in. "Well 's abou' time! Looks t'me ye lot got an early star- Ireth, help 'er!"

"Some......assistance......would be.......appreciated!" the woman gasped, struggling to keep both herself and her companion standing.

Both the elf and the old man rushed to her side, catching the unconscious woman as the other's legs finally gave out and she collapsed onto an empty stool. Ireth bent to see to the woman on the floor, Myron rushing off to get something cool for the other one to drink. The elven woman put a hand to the woman's forehead, gasping in shock at the feel of her burning skin, the shock growing as she took in her beaten and battered appearance.

"What happened to her?!"

The warrior downed the pint that was presented to her, shaking her head as she steadied her breathing. "I have no idea, I tripped over her on my way here. I don't even know who she is."

Ireth's gaze darkened as she studied the blood stains on her ruined clothes, a deep sense of sadness overwhelming her as she saw the patches between her thighs. She sniffed briskly and swiped at her eyes, putting two and two together on her own, before she hooked her arms under those of the unconscious woman's.

"Come, help me move her upstairs where I can treat her better, Miss?"

"Brenna." she scrambled off of her stool and bent to grab her companion's feet, secretly relieved that she was passed out; now she wouldn't have to hear the agonized cries.

Between the two of them, Brenna's ankle now throbbing as the previous adrenaline rush she had had wore off, they managed to get their charge upstairs. Myron was already up there to open the door leading into Ireth's room, taking his leave once they were in. They placed the woman as gently as they could upon the bed, the elf's eyes straying down to the warrior's foot. "Let Myron have a look at that. He should be able to bind it up for you."

Brenna shook her head, keeping her gaze fixated on the prone form of the battered woman. Despite her efforts to keep herself distanced from the woman she virtually knew nothing about, she couldn't help but feel responsible for her. "Not right now, I'm fine."

Ireth smiled softly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, nodding towards the door. "It is alright child, she's in good hands I promise. Go, you've done all you can for her. I will look after her, and let you know when she has awoken. You need to get that ankle taken care of in case it's broken."

With one last look at the woman on the bed, Brenna finally relented. She smiled and nodded her head, allowing the woman to steer her out of the room and help her down the stairs. Questions burned in the back of her mind but she strove to push them out completely. She did her part, and had helped the woman find some help. Now she was free to go, as soon as she got her ankle taken care of and downed and couple more pints.

She had no reason to stay.

On the third day, the woman's fever finally broke and she came to, much to everyone's relief. She did not speak much, and had no recollection of how she had arrived at the Tavern. Ireth had asked her about her injuries, but she adamantly refused to talk about it, and the elven woman did not wish to pry.

Despite the fact that she had no memory of the woman that had saved her, Brenna decided to stay, against her better judgement. Maybe one day she would decide to move on, but for now.....

For now she remained where she was, keeping an eye on the silent woman that kept herself closed off to the others, gracing her with a smile when the two met eyes occasionally from across the room.

One day, Brenna would tell her it was she that saved her.

But for now, she shared soft smiles and foaming pints with the woman she would forever be drawn to.

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miranthia · 12 years ago

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.:Winter | 17/30:.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Characters: Constance Macayle, Brenna Larossa, Dahlia

Pairing: Macarenna sorta

TRIGGER WARNING: Self-harm, suicide, mention/hint of rape

Before you all ask, yes I'm ok I promise XD This is just...........what came to my head when I got to this word for the prompts. A little insight on Mac and her past, so I guess it's more of a character development kinda drabble thing.

I'm horrible to Mac ._.

And this is probably craptastic because I haven't written in a while.

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It was winter.

The world had been covered with a fresh blanket of crisp, white snow for two days. In some places, it was merely ankle deep. In other places, one was liable to disappear in a drift. Most of the terrain lay untouched, the tiny crystals sparkling in the mediocre light that happened to grace the land. Tracks and footprints could be seen here and there, but for the most part the wildlife and peoples of this land had elected to remain indoors.

However that was not to be said about all living things.

Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air as a small figure trekked through the shin-deep snow, a steady trail of footprints leading the girl forward. She shivered and wrapped her arms tighter about her frame, eyes glued to the path ahead of her. She was dressed in an oversized sweater, thick pants, and heavy boots, but lacked a coat. Clearly, she had left in a hurry.

The trail of footprints began to swerve slightly, frozen dark specks of some substance marring the white landscape. Her eyes narrowed and she quickened her pace, dread forming in the back of her young mind. As the snow began to get heavier, the path became even more sporadic, the frozen specks not as frozen and congealed. The youngster cursed under her breath, a slight sob escaping her as she took off at a run, finally realizing where it was she needed to be. The deep snow and the big boots caused her to stumble several times, but she pressed on regardless. She just hoped beyond hope that she wasn't too late.

She rounded a corner and came skidding to a halt, her breath coming out in heavy white puffs as she struggled to control her breathing. Another figure stood a ways in front of her, at the edge of the very cliff they were standing on. Blood dripped steadily from the tips of her slack fingers, one hand closed around the handle of a dripping dagger, even more staining the boulders beside her. The young girl licked her chapped lips, eyes glued to the other girls back as she took a hesitant step forward.

"Go back Connie, you don't need to see this."

Connie shook her head and took another step forward. "I'm not going back without you."

The girl laughed slightly, her back still to the younger girl as she stared out across the valley with red rimmed eyes. "There's no going back for me." she said after a moment. "I can't."

"Dahlia please, don't do this. We can figure something out; it doesn't have to be this way."

"Connie, I couldn't even protect you from him." Dahlia said with a broken sob, her body trembling.

Constance grit her teeth and swallowed the lump in her throat, halting in her advance towards her friend. Her back twinged slightly at the thought, her body too numb to feel anything else. "Do not blame yourself for that, it wasn't your fault. What he did to you, what he has been doing to you, is far worse than what he did to me."

"It's only a matter of time before he gets to you, too." Dahlia swallowed and shook her head, the act causing her to sway slightly. "I can't have his baby."

"Then we'll leave, together." Connie pled with her, so close to her friend that in two steps she could place her hand on her back. "We'll go far away, where nobody knows us. I'll take care of you, and when the time comes we will find a nice, loving family for the baby. I will help you get through this. Dahlia, please..."

"He'll find me, and he'll kill me. He'll kill both of us. If I stayed, he'd probably kill me after the baby was born anyway. No, it's better this way. With me out of the picture, he won't come by the orphanage until you are of age. Hopefully by then you will be far away from this place. Meredith will keep you safe. She'll protect you better than I could."

"Dahlia..."

"I love you, Connie."

She was gone. Constance had reached out to grasp her friend's shoulder, but before she could even touch her she disappeared without a sound and barely a movement. Her arm slowly dropped back to her side, her eyes glued to the empty space in front of her, the world dropping from beneath her feet as the snow continued to fall.

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Mac woke with a start, her heart racing as she fought back the covers. A pair of arms wrapped around her before she could rise, her body automatically melding to the one in front of her, her forehead dropping to a willing shoulder.

Brenna shushed her quietly as she rubbed the trembling woman's back soothingly, feeling the deep scars underneath her fingers. As Mac struggled to control her breathing Brenna tightened her hold on the woman, her eyes wandering towards the window. The moonlight illuminated the landscape magnificently, the land sparkling with freshly fallen snow.

This was a fairly common occurrence this time of year, and Brenna was always there to comfort her love. She never questioned, she was just simply there. She kissed the side of Mac's head softly as the woman's arms snaked around her as well, her body shaking with silent sobs. Brenna hummed quietly and continued to hold Mac throughout the night, rocking them back and forth until the other woman finally settled back into a peaceful slumber. One void of the horrors that plagued her mind on snowy nights such as this. Mac would explain one day, when she was ready. Until then, she would strive to keep it as nothing more than deep scars and a fretful memory.

#TRIGGER WARNING #rape suicide selfharm #Constance Mac Macayle #Brenna Larossa #ERRMAHGERDWURDS #30 Days of Writing #drabble #Miranthia #Aztarieth

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