First Reply Show Me That Which I Cannot See

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Stumbling, I fell to my knees. Barely keeping myself upright. Using my arm the best I could to push myself back up, I began running again. Trying to put distance between myself and the people who started attacking me. Blood streamed down my face like a fountain of youthful energy being lost. Tears streaming down my face and blurring my vision as I shoved past people with the one good arm I had.

"Get back here you queen!"
"You need to die for what you did!"
"Kill the brat!"

Screams behind me, curses to what I had already been subjected to for years. I didn't want to let loose on them. They didn't deserve that. They didn't know. They judged purely on what I had been tied to in the past. I was finally able to get some distance and slink into an alley and throw myself headlong into a trash receptacle. I could hear their screams and heavy footfalls as they ran by. Looking for the Mawite girl they had found just trying to get food.

My hunger was overpowering. Not just food, but energy. I could hear the voices in my head. Pleading for me to eat, to consume them. A few shakes of the head before I decided to get out of the trash. Feeling the pain welling through my body of being hit, and then directly falling into a metal bin, was not helping. Trying my best to get out, I was finally able to put my feet down on the ground before jogging down the alley and to the other street that was connected.

Left hand coming up to my forehead. Trying to apply some kind of pressure to my wound, but seemed to only make it worse with the blood seeping through my fingers.

"Get her!"

Without waiting, I went into the alley again. Trying to run from these people again. A loud bang rang out. Cords wrapping themselves around my ankles and tripping me up to fall onto the ground. I turned to face the three individuals. Closing in. Their faces blackened with hatred, their white teeth seemed to illuminate their faces with such malice. I couldn't handle it anymore.

Heavy breathing turned shallow. Mustering strength, I broke the wrappings around my ankles. Lashing out. A fist sent the center man flying back with such force. My hand grabbing the longer hair of the second before he could turn his head back around to face me, and throwing him into the wall. His head cracking open on impact. The third, I jumped upon. My teeth sinking easily into his exposed neck and ripping out a large portion of his flesh.

The taste. The energy. I could feel it upon my tongue. It was so sickly sweet. I couldn't hold it anymore.

I fed on him. Throwing my mouth into the gaping wound in his neck. Drinking from the rhythmic streaming of his veins. I could feel his fighting weaken until he no longer moved. I felt disgusted. I could feel myself move to the man whose head was completely broken open. Draining him too. He was dying without my help. But now, maybe the voices will leave me alone.

Standing up, even from here, I could almost hear and sense the third man's heartbeat. Still going. Still alive. I... I just couldn't. Post-feast clarity hit me. I had just killed these people. I didn't want to do that. I felt sick. Looking to see blood over me, I walked away.

Already, just after feasting, the wound on my forehead was starting to close.

Now I need to hide.

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

Matthew, a tall winged man with long white hair, descended from the sky like a guardian spirit, his presence casting a powerful aura over the bloody altercation below. His piercing gaze swept over the scene, assessing the aftermath and the three men involved. With a subtle but focused gesture, he reached out with the Force to check the pulses of the fallen men, confirming their fate.

However, his attention quickly shifted to the girl, fear evident in her prsence as she darted about, seeking refuge. Without a moment's hesitation, Matthew's wings stretched wide, their feathers catching the light as he summoned the Force to guide him in her pursuit. With a fluid motion, he glided through the air, gracefully following the girl's path.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Steps taken out of the alley. I felt invigorated for the first time in a while. The sounds of the city drowning out my footsteps as I looked around. Most people were just going about their day. Just doing whatever they needed to in order to get through. In earnest, that's all I wanted. To just live a somewhat normal life. Have a job, and a pet or something. Instead, I was forced to feed on living breathing beings, fighting for my life as a Branded Mawite not of my own consent.

Attempting to make my way down the street, staying away from most of the other individuals, I kept looking directly behind me. Making sure others were not following me. Having this feeling like piercing eyes were boring into the back of my neck. Every hair was standing on end. Goosebumps as I had learned they were called.

Stopping in my tracks, I looked around. Still feeling those eyes upon me. it dawned on me. Up.

Looking up I saw a personage. Bathed in the light of the city with wings whiter than the snow on Hoth. There eyes. Deep but just as bright blue. It was... almost overpowering this divinity seemed to be. Finally able to shake my vision away from it, I shook my head at them. Unable to come up with words and walked backwards. Keeping my eyes on them before falling flat on my rear.

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

Matthew descended with a graceful elegance, his tall 7-foot frame seeming to command both the space and the moment. He landed smoothly in front of her, a silent guardian materializing from the sky. His wings, a shade of almost pure white, folded behind him in a deliberate motion, their feathers catching the ambient city lights with a prismatic sheen that gave them an otherworldly glow. His hair, a cascade of white strands, held an almost supernatural luminosity, framing his face in long winding wisps.

With a gentle demeanor that radiated reassurance, Matthew regarded her with deep blue eyes that held a mixture of curiosity and kindness. His voice, warm and rich, flowed like a soothing melody, each word carefully enunciated and resonating with a sense of calm. "Are you in need of help?" he inquired, his words carrying the weight of genuine concern, his force presence was warm and inviting, a beacon of stability amidst the uncertainty of the situation.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

This person, being, angel fell down upon me. My hand keeping my body upright and trying to get my feet underneath me. It was all I could do. I was very much in a position of vulnerability. Yet, instead of attacking, the voice of the man seemed to seep into my soul. Asking me if I needed aid. Help. Realizing that he intended to help, I leaned to sit up. Placing my hand in my lap to adjust myself. Standing up upon my feet, to barely even reach this personage height.

"I- chough"

Realizing I had not used my voice in such a time, It hurt to speak. Being silent for far too long made me lose any kind of foundation to speak from.

"I'm fine now."

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

Matthew offered a hand to her, extending it palm up. It had a weird sort of draw to it as if she felt almost compelled to reach out and take it. Whether or not it was just a simple gesture in itself and the normal response or something else at play was hard to say.

"You do not look fine... Come with me... Allow me to help you; I mean you no harm. " Matthew stated softly. " I'm Matthew- Please.... let me help you get somewhere safe. " He encouraged speaking softly as he extended his hand and the invitation. He was suppressing his force presence quite a bit so as to not broadcast his location and yet still it showed through with that odd sort of comforting warmth he carried.


He didn't come closer to her, seemingly not wanting to frighten her in running again. He stayed still with his hand extended seemingly hoping she would come to him.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Without thinking, a step had been taken back when the hand was extended outward to me. I just... there was a draw to take it. One that while not being overpowering, was very prominent. It was something that while I wanted to take it, the judgement of not trusting anyone was much more powerful. A second step was taken away from this Matthew.

"I don't need help. I-"

A wincing in pain as the final bits of the wound from earlier was closing. My hand rubbing the blood away to feel it was no longer there.

"I'll be fine."

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

Observing her with a keen concern, Matthew's eyes rested on her, each glance filled with empathy. "It's okay," he offered in a soft, comforting tone, his words a gentle balm meant to soothe the turmoil she was undoubtedly feeling. "I'm not the same," he added, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying an earnestness that sought to reassure her further. His hand remained extended, an invitation framed in vulnerability.

"I know it's hard. But the risk is worth it," his words held a soft conviction, an acknowledgment of the difficult choice that lay before her. His tone held an understanding of the internal struggle she faced. "Trust is a luxury few can afford; I do not blame you for your judgment," he continued, his voice infused with a gentle understanding that sought to absolve any reservations she might hold.

"But I'd very much like to assist you," he spoke with a sincerity that emanated from his very core. His eyes locked onto hers, holding an unwavering determination. "Tell me how to help, if you will not come with me," he proposed, his open hand a symbol of his unreserved willingness. He maintained his distance, respectful of her space, yet the openness in his stance and the warmth in his gaze conveyed an invitation that remained open-ended, leaving the choice entirely in her hands.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

My eyes went from Matthew's face and his long hair. Trailing down his frame down to his feet. Not sizing him up but just accepting the full view. His attempts to coerce me to take his hand, to accept him, I did want help, I just... I couldn't trust him. So I spoke.

"Just for tonight. No more. I'm not a helpless person."

I closed the distance. Not fully accepting his hand. Just being close enough to show that I was willing to go with him. Not that I was going to place all of what I am into his care. I didn't want that to be turned against me. I wouldn't let it. Not after what I had to do in the past. I couldn't, wouldn't let that happen again. I had built these walls for a reason, so I am not going to tear them down just for a stranger.

"I- Thank you."

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

​

As she drew nearer, Matthew's countenance seemed to brighten, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His force presence seemed to swell, a warm and fond sensation mirroring the emotions he felt. With a graceful motion, he lowered his outstretched hand, a gesture of understanding and respect. He drew that gloved hand closed and brought it to his chest over his heart and bowed his head to her.

"That's fair. Thank you," he responded in a soft-spoken manner, his words carrying a genuine gratitude that was ampified by his gentle tone. He lightly adjusted the feathers of his wings behind him.

"Are you hurting or in pain?" he inquired, his gaze tender as he scanned her form, a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he searched for any signs of wounds or injuries. "Allow me to show you to a safe place," he offered, his voice carrying a light reassurance that sought to comfort her. "We can walk if you prefer," he added, his tone accommodating and gentle, allowing her the choice in how they proceeded.

"I'm Matthew... Just Matthew is fine," he introduced himself with a quiet warmth, the simplicity of his name carrying a sense of sincerity. "What do you wish me to call you, miss?" he inquired, his attentiveness clear as he awaited her response. Despite her scars and wounds he didn't recoil or show any signs of discomfort. Instead, he looked at her fully and unabashedly, his gaze reflecting his deep concern. His eyes seemed to peer past the surface, seeking to understand the person beneath the wounds and distress. The air around him held a weighty sense of care, a steadfast commitment to offer assistance and protection.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Hurting and in pain? Always. While it may not be a pain of the flesh, its always pain. Taught as a child to use pain and agony as fuel for combat. To fight, and when I used it, it ended with her death. I shook my head at the man's question. Following the others as they came. I did prefer to walk. Sure there was the idea that he, this literal angelic looking individual could fly us there, I still didn't trust him to do so. Being at the whim of someone else was not where I wanted to be again.

"Lúthien. Just that for now."

I didn't want to give my full name. Not knowing if he may have known about the Maw and the larger players in that war. I didn't want to be attributed to it. I just... I just wanted to run.

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

"Lúthien then. " He repeated and slipped a clean, pristine white, glove-clad hand into his tunic pulled out a black kerchief with red frilled edges, and offered it to her. "In case you want to clean your face up a little. " He offered softly as he gestured in a specific direction and started to slowly walk that way. He drew up a comlink and hailed someone requesting that guest room number 6 be made ready for accommodations for the evening.

The man looked well put together- almost too perfectly so. It was as if not a stain was on his pale clothing. He carried with him an unusual mixture of floral scents, carrying a pleasant yet subtle perfumed smell that clung to his presence. He was meticulously groomed from head to toe. Something about how much was just so felt a little off. Perhaps not in a bad way just an unusual way for everything to be so well kept.

"Who were those people following you?" Matthew asked his tone conveying curiosity and concern more than anything.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Dignified, and rather well kept. It was as if the image of this man was a major point of character for him. Even as I took the black kerchief, I used the sleeve of my dress first. Wiping away most of it. Smelling the dingy clothing that I had not been able to change for some time. Getting the large majority off, I used the smaller article to get within my eye sockets, the rims of the nostrils, in the crevices of my face where a simple rub would not get. I knew for sure there would be some in hairline and would not come out unless I took a shower. Looking like a possibility. In all of this, he called for a room to be prepared for me. Just me. It showed he wasn't trying to just take me in for himself. Slightly reassuring.

It was when he asked a question while I walked with him that I stumbled a little. Not physically, but just in my mind.

"They uh... I don't know personally."

it was true, but only half so. My mother may have killed someone they knew. Or it could have just only been when I had leaned over to try and purchase some new clothes that they saw the mark on my back. It was just barely below the hemline of the neck. The Mawite symbol. I decided it would be better to explain.

"My mother branded me with a group that was... known to not be good to people. They found out."

Looking to him as we walked, I decided to ask my own question.

"Why help someone who just killed those men?"

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

"That doesn't sound like a very good thing to have had done to you..." Matthew's comment hung lightly in the air, his tone a mix of empathy and concern as he took the lead. He motioned for them to approach a nearby curb, where a sizable gold and white arm bracer resembling armor revealed itself to be tech-laden. With practiced movements, he input a few commands, arranging for transportation to the Exhonerator.

"Well... they were chasing you," he continued, his voice maintaining a gentle understanding. "You haven't hurt me or anyone else... It seems to me like you had reasons to hurt them. I don't know what reasons you had or what reasons they had... But you seem to be quite capable and in control of your mental faculties, and are lucid enough to carry polite conversation."

His perception shifted to her emotions, his expression a mix of observation and sympathy. "You feel... terrified to me," he admitted, his words a careful acknowledgment. "I could feel your signature from very far away. You caught my attention, so I came closer. It's not every day I feel something so intense. Ah... but I suppose none of that offers a 'why,' does it?" Matthew posed the question thoughtfully. "I suppose those reasons all just give me supporting facts on gifting your character the benefit of the doubt and my trust that you won't try to stab or bite me," he added with a hint of humor, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

"At least for the time being... My... ah... religion dictates that it is a holy service and aligns with our dogma to lend aid to those in need and ask nothing in return," he explained, his voice steady with conviction. "And you seem to need help. That's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone needs help from time to time... in fact, being able to accept help, I think, is a useful strength. To acknowledge something we may not wish to admit due to pride or some other pesky feeling that plagues our minds."

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts, before continuing. "I am a servant of the light and bear the moniker and burden of paladin. I would be remiss if I didn't at least try to help someone who really needed it, and who crossed my path," he shared, his dedication apparent. "That, and well... I like to help people. Especially people who want to help themselves, because I know their pride and resilience will help them flourish into better people... I consider myself a... 'people gardener'.... I like to help people grow into the best versions of themselves that they can be, to watch them truly take root and flourish. And sometimes, people just can't get immediate real help... but I like to at least try sometimes..." His voice carried a genuine earnestness, a reflection of his altruistic nature and his desire to be a source of positive change.

"But I suppose that's a rather selfish answer in it's own right aye?" A speeder pulled up to their location and Matthew opened the front passenger side door for her and gestured for her to take a seat. The driver greeted the two of them with a cheerful tone.


"Would you like some water miss? Sorry, we don't keep colored liquids in the speeder. " The man was dressed wearing gloves a vest a clean button-down shirt a bow tie, and coal dress pants. He had cropped blonde hair and bright blue eyes but he didn't have angel wings like Matthew did.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Just... everything exploded from this man. Philosophical, and emotional quandaries in how this man wished to just help people. As if he felt better that just someone was aided, and may one day, as he put it, Bloom. I was very curious about this. The entire time he spoke, All I could do was listen about his religious view, his emotional view, and the aspect of helping someone who may have been prideful or fearful of the situation. This would only cease when a speeder had came forward. A very sharp dressed individual was driving it. The door opened for me. A pristine interior and well taken care of vehicle was opened to my use. I took a moment and looked down at myself. Seeing the blood all over myself, the dirty clothes I wore, I almost half expected there to be some seat cover.

Instead, the man greeted me and asked if I wished water. Only to apologize that they didn't have colored drinks in the vehicle due to the possibility of staining it. I was utterly confused. I was dirty, and bloodied. Not quite dry and had a stench that pervaded my own senses.

"Uh... sure."

All I could say to all of this. Taking the, what looked to be a very high end crystal glass that was given to me, and took a sip. Having a strange.. flavor. Like it had been filtered. It tasted much different than the rain water I had been drinking from, and the water I carried upon my mother's ship.

Looking to Matthew, I just was wondering if this was all right as I sat in this vehicle.

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

Matthew exchanged a brief glance with Allan before he gently removed his distinctive cloak, adorned with elegant slits, and draped it over her shoulders with a soft-spoken, "Allow me." Ensuring she was seated comfortably in the front, he carefully closed the door, making sure she was safely within the vehicle.

Joining her in the back seat, they set forth on a short journey toward the ship's docking area. The vessel that awaited them was a grand sight, its white and gold coloring reflecting the same opulence as the unique armband Matthew wore on his forearm.

As the speeder parked amidst a variety of other vehicles, Matthew spoke, "There may be some clothes in your room if you wish to change. I can see about having your clothing treated if you like... Our Tailor Sable might be able to fix something more suited to your style." The gangway awaited them, and Allan opened the door for her this time, while Matthew adjusted his wings with an air of awkwardness as he emerged from the speeder. He stretched them momentarily before settling them back into place.

Walking toward the inner section ship, he shared more information, "All the rooms have en-suites. If the room doesn't have a name displayed, it's empty. If you aren't comfortable in the room we prepared, you're welcome to pick out a different one more to your liking to rest in." His tone was accommodating, a desire to ensure her comfort evident in his words.

Then, in a softer voice, he extended an invitation, "I hope you will be kind enough to allow me the pleasure to break bread with you?" The sincerity in his request was clear, a willingness to share a meal and perhaps forge a connection.

As they neared the lift to the interior of the ship, another man appeared, dressed similarly to Allan but with lavender eyes and long dark hair. This man, however, carried a less amiable demeanor. His coat with tails and a distinctive lapel pin marked him as someone of stature. Their presence was a curious juxtaposition, and Matthew's attention shifted briefly to this newcomer, the atmosphere suddenly tinged with a hint of tension.

"If you want to leave at any time any of my men can show you the closest exit. " Matthew added softly. " This is Vincent, my major domo; he will show you to your room. " Matthew offered to gesture a white-gloved hand towards him.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

It was awkward to have the cloak thrown around my shoulders. Being covered by such a massive article of clothing, made me feel small. It was as if the cloak could have been used for a bed covering for a bed many times larger than what I was used to. As we were being driven, Matthew stayed silent for the most of it. Just sitting, sipping and nursing on the glass of water I had been graciously given.

Reaching the docking back in which his vessel was located at, The angelic figure stood up and stretched his wings. As I took my steps out of the vehicle, I grabbed the cloak and kind of rolled it up so then it could sit in the seat. No way was I going to be picking it up without dragging it everywhere. Following the towering man, up the ramp and into his ship, I was really trusting this man and everything he was presenting me. A room for myself, a shower, clothing, aid in whatever he offered.

Looking to the new individual who would be leading me to my room, I changed my vision to between them. Even as the gloved hand indicated to follow him.

"Just uh... just something comfortable will be fine. My clothes just need to be cleaned."

Once Matthew had given me the go ahead, I followed the man. Leading me through the halls of the ship and too a room. The door hissing open Hesitating to walk in, The man just stood there. Waiting for me. I nodded a thanks and walked within. The room was lavish. Expensive in its decorum. Looking about, I jumped at the door closing behind me. Sighing to release some tension, I allowed myself to roam a moment. Looking at what was all in the room. Including a bed much larger than the ones I have ever been able to rest upon. Likely accommodating people of larger sizes.

I looked down at myself and was once more reminded of the dirt, filth and blood that covered me. I slowly began to undress myself. Leaving all of my clothes in a folded pile on the table within so that it would be easier to clean. Making my way into the shower, I cleaned myself the best I could. While at first seemingly rushing, I slowed down. Instead opting to just relax with the warm water rushing over my body and letting the problems of today, wash away.

Coming out of the shower, I tried my best to dry off. My hair would be wet for much longer than I would have liked, but it was now smoother, and more silky than it had been before. Looking into the mirror, I could see how brighter my red hair seemed to shine in the lighting. Upon exiting the washroom, I found a new set of clothes. Just a simple white dress with long sleeves. I silently thanked Matthew. Tying a knot where my right arm would be in, so then my arm was not just sticking out.

Covering myself, I laid down upon the bed. Letting my hair dangle off the end so that I might have an easier time to tie up my hair into a tail. Letting gravity work for me instead of against me. Standing up, I stood in the full length mirror. Looking over the silky, but added texture of the off white designs in the voided white that was the primary color. That makes sense with how much white was here. A sign of wealth and purity. To be unblemished... which I was not.

Hearing a knock on the door, I decided to go answer it.

"Yes?"

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

In response to the gentle knock on the door, it swished open to reveal a young Chiss male servant, his appearance a study in elegant refinement. His striking blue skin contrasted with his crisp, tailored uniform, adorned with intricate silver accents that caught the ambient light. His obsidian hair was neatly combed, framing his chiseled features and piercing red eyes that held a spark of intelligence and warmth.

With a graceful bow, the Chiss servant addressed her, his voice smooth and melodious. "Master Matthew has arranged a meal for the two of you to share in the observatory, milady." His words flowed like a melody.

"Shall I lead the way, or would you prefer a moment longer to prepare?" he inquired, his tone a gentle invitation that held no hint of impatience, only a genuine desire to ensure her comfort and readiness for the impending meal.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

With the door opening to the Chiss man, he bowed quite deeply. Confused at first, I bowed as well even though it wasn't really a custom I was used to doing. He lifted himself to inform me that the meal between us was going to be in the observatory. So they had a place on the ship, to observe what? Space? it was a void with not much in the way of a sight. Nodding my head I answered the man.

"Um, I'm alright to join him?"

I wasn't sure what to say honestly, It was like trying to figure out the right thing to say and sound professional, but I had never been in this setting, with a ship that was so... well kept.

Matthew of Valendale

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

TAGS: Lúthien Tinúviel

The servant's eyes glinted with curiosity as he admired her appearance, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "I think you look just darling, my dear," he chimed, his voice carrying a touch of appreciation. "I'm certain Master Valendale will be cordial to your modest choice," he reassured, his words a comforting embrace in the midst anxious nerves.

With a gracious nod, the servant guided her through the ship's lavishly adorned halls. The walls were adorned with a captivating array of artworks, each piece telling a story of its own. A sweeping painting depicted a serene landscape on an alien world, with vivid hues and intricate brushstrokes capturing the essence of the scene. Nearby, a sculpture crafted from iridescent materials shimmered under the soft illumination, evoking a sense of beauty.

Upon arriving at the observatory, the scene shifted to a moment of anticipation. Master Valendale, or Matthew, as he was known, stood by an instrument, his hands expertly tuning it. As she entered, he rose with an excited greeting, setting the instrument aside with care.

"Ah, hello there," he greeted warmly, his voice a soothing melody that resonated in the space. "How are you feeling? I trust the bath helped?" His words were imbued with genuine concern. The room itself was a masterpiece of design, its ceiling a shimmering expanse that simulated the night sky, complete with twinkling stars and even a holographic nebula that seemed to pulse with a soft, fiber optic light.