[Mkguild] First Steps (10/?)

[Nathan Pfaunmiller]

MATURE CONTENT WARNING

THIS SECTION CONTAINS DISTURBING THEMES AND IMAGES

READER DISCRETION ADVISED

All right, that might be overplayed, but there are disturbing images
in this part.  Nothing truly mature is described, but it is discussed
and implied.

-LurkingWolf

_______________________

	Paula returned home late after her training session with Lois.  They
had just started training a few days ago, but he was already moving
quickly, trying to explore what tactics she could best adapt to.  Her
clairvoyance made defense easier for her than it might have been, but
she still could not form a very coherent offense.  Since discovering
that she could react to blows before they came, she had tried to do
the same to predicting her opponent’s patterns, but it was no use.
She simply could not foresee what her opponent would do in any given
situation, and so her lack of training made it difficult to exploit
Lois’ defense.

	He had thus far decided that she would most profit from a fast
approach, but he seemed to think that she needed something different
than his own usual combat style.  While he had only shown one style
while fighting her to this point, he had made it clear that he knew
several other styles, and he was attempting to tailor a basic style to
his student as they went along.

	New to this as she was, Paula could only wonder if perhaps he wasn’t
overtaxing himself in his effort.  They had, after all, just started.
All she really needed was a reliable combat strategy for now; surely
he could wait until he had laid a solid foundation to make a perfect
style for her.

	As she quietly stowed her things near the door, she hear a loud thump
from elsewhere in the house.  A growling voice from the other room was
recognizable as her father’s, and by the somewhat strange rhythm of
his footfalls, she assumed he had been drinking again.  Sighing, she
finished storing her things beside the door and stepped into the small
room that served as common room, kitchen, and dining area all in one.

	Her father stumbled out of his room, wearing only a pair of pants
that looked as though he had balled them up and stored them in the
corner for several days before he grabbed them in a rush to get out of
his room moments ago.  He looked at her in confusion for a moment, and
Paula realized that he was again confused about who she was.

	“Father, it’s me, Paula,” she said softly.  His eyes lit up in
recognition for a moment, but his face was still hard.

	“You’re late tonight,” he said gruffly.

	“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’ve been practicing the last few nights,
trying to regain the strength I lost so that I can best adjust.”  The
lie was close enough to the truth that Paula, despite being a bad
liar, could make it quite convincing.

	Her father grunted in what might have been approval.  “Well, at least
you have good cause to be out late,” he mumbled, staggering a step
just to keep his balance.  Paula could not guess how drunk he must
have been at this point.  His eyes seemed to fade back and forth from
recognition to confusion even though they never left her form.  Donnie
would have never let him get this drunk; he had probably been stashing
away bottles of alcohol for weeks for this one night of complete
inebriation.

	“Come on, father,” Paula said after a few moments.  “We need to get
you to bed before you topple over.”

	He did not resist as she led him back to his room, simply slumping
onto the bed with her help when they arrived.  As she pulled back from
helping him sit, however, she felt his hand clasping her arm.  She
looked at his face, and was startled to see that his yes were suddenly
steely and focused completely on her.

	“Stay, girl,” he said in a voice both cold and hollow.  Paula
suddenly wanted anything but to stay in this room, but her father’s
claws pinched her skin as she tried to pull away.  With no method of
leaving that did not involve immense physical injury, she sat down
slowly on the bed.

	“Father?  What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

	“Everything,” he spat with a sudden intensity.  “Not long ago, I had
both a beautiful wife, and a strong son.  Now I have neither.”  He
stared at her with a burning gaze, his deep brown eyes seeming to
smolder even as the shadows almost made them invisible.

	“Father, Eli has a plan for everything.  You still have me, I’m still
your child.”

	“Eli’s plan is flawed!” he spat furiously.  Paula felt the spittle as
he screamed rabidly in her face, but she was more shocked by the
words.  He had not been strong in his faith since her mother’s death,
that much was obvious, but he had never put his feelings so boldly
into words before.

	“Father…”

	“Quiet, girl!  It is not your place to speak to me.  Eli STOLE my
wife!  He took her at the height of her life, took her from me when
most I needed her!  He ripped out my heart, stabbed it, spat on it,
lit it ablaze, and LAUGHED when I tried to discern His will!  I’ve
fought on ever since; at least he had left my son.  But now, after
giving me more years with me just so I would always think of you as my
son, he took that away too!  He took away my hope, my last anchor in
this swirling miasma of agony!  Not only that, but he gave you your
mother’s face just so that every time I look at you I feel the agony
fresh in my heart again.  He took both of you, and then he gave me you
back, only now as a mockery of your mother to deepen my pain!”

	Paula was scared out of her mind.  Her father’s vehemence never
assuaged, his anger never wavered, and all trace of the alcohol’s
influence seemed erased in that sudden explosion of rage.  His claws
were drawing blood from her arm, and she could feel tears falling from
her eyes from the torturous pain they caused, slow but constant.

	“Father, Eli did not make me look like mother to torture you.  He
gave me her face as a reminder of her, of the blessed time you had
together, no matter how short.”

	He slapped her, turning her head roughly to one side and just missing
her cheek with his claws.  By now, Paula was too terrified to ask him
to stop.  All she could thing to do was to shrink as far away from him
as his grip on her arm allowed.  She began to sob, trying to swallow
the sounds before they escaped her throat, trying to say something,
but nothing would come.

	“Eli tortures me by your image, don’t try to tell me otherwise.”  He
sneered at her.  “I will not be tortured anymore by it.  You look like
your mother?  Fine, you will serve me in her stead.  Starting now.”

	His intentions had become all too clear to Paula by this point, and
so she finally began to push against him, trying to stop him however
she could, even as he viciously ripped at her clothing with his claws.

	“Father, stop!  You don’t know what you’re doing!”

	He pulled her face close to his muzzle for a moment, and his face
terrified her.  It was not the expression; no, the thing that
terrified her was that she could still see no sign of the drink’s
influence in his face.  He did know what he was doing, and that
terrified her all the more.

	“Listen to me, woman!” he spat in her face, pressing her down onto
the bed.  His breeches were discarded, and Paula could do nothing to
stop what was coming.  She sobbed uncontrollably, pressing futilely
against his chest.  “You are MINE!” he shouted, muzzle inches from her
face.  “Eli gave you to me as a mockery, but you are still mine, and I
will do to you what I like!  Eli will know to what lengths he has
driven me!  I will do what I like to you, and He will be POWERLESS to
stop me.  Expect no help; none is coming.”

	Paula prayed until the very last instant that some rescue would come,
that some miraculous savior would burst through the window and stop
her father from this heinous deed.  She prayed that Lois would enter
to follow up on the training, or that DeMule would come to make sure
she was all right.  She prayed that some small miracle would occur to
stop what was about to happen.

	There was no miracle.