Seeking Character Development (F for gentle dom M)

[Chantarelle]

Would like to explore my girl…

Genre: Modern Supernatural

Races: Witches, Werewolves, Vampires, Hunters, Humans

Seeking: Wordsmith/Gentle Dominant

Goal: Character Development

Full name: Lola (Nadie) Gil

Face Claim: Britney Murphy

Species: Human (Discarded Vessel)

Occupation: Unemployed

Notable features:

Age: 32

Eye Color: Light Brown

Hair Color: Blonde

Height: 5'3

Sexuality: straight

Likes:

Dislikes:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Personality: Wooden / Co-dependent / Contemplative / Sensual / Numb/  Fearless / Insecure / Impulsive / Liar

History: "You see her?"

The boy couldn't really. Not through the blood and dirt caked in his eyes.

"You see her?!"

The mans grip was like iron twisting scalp skin by long, greasy, tequila-drenched hair owned by one Diego Morales who's broken mouth twisted and spat out pieces of his own teeth. He made many sounds as he choked on his own blood but none resembling syllables either in English or in Spanish.

"Come closer, mija."

The smells of dust and gasoline finally made way for the soft, sweet scent of the 'Queen of the Night'. The orchid cactus bloomed only once a year, filling the entire dessert with its perfume. It wasn't poisonous, just beautiful. Like her. Or so Diego once thought.

Blinking through the crimson fuzziness of his vision he finally saw her. She got down real close, even lying on the dirty desert floor to get on his level where his temple dug into a large rock half buried in the sand. Big doe eyes dead and unnerving. Vacant. Expressionless. Had they always been that way?

"You see her now, chico?"

Diego's "si" came out deformed thanks to his lack of incisors but unfortunately he was understood well enough by the man Pascual who promptly severed the beaten boys carotid artery with his navaja. Only then did Lola's eyes flicker alive if only for a moment.

"Engañar. No hay nadie ahí."

"Fool. There's no one there."

Background: Maybe she could have been somebody a long time ago. But now? Ella es Nadie. (She is nobody.) Except of course to Pascual. To him she is his vengeance, his vessel in which he pours all of his spite and vindictiveness. She is completely human, completely innocent and completely broken. Her only crime was being born to a woman who shattered and blackened the once Supremes heart, turning him away from the sacred path and towards the dark...a road to be covered with bodies...starting first with the bitch who'd betrayed him, Lola's mother.

Afterwards, in Pascual's keep, Lola Gil became Nadie. Kept under the influence of  some very potent blood magic, Nadie was used. She effectively became Pascual's daughter and eventually Pascual's lover. A brainwashed puppet and perpetual victim, she did what she was told and she baited who she was told to bait, until the night Diego Morales was killed and for the first time she felt something new, something she hadn't been told to feel…and it scared her...

Our story begins:

Her world had never been this loud before, not ever. Why was it wailing like that? It was like a bombardment, like actual bombs being dropped on top of her head.

"Calla a ese chico!"

"Shut that kid up!"

The passenger sitting shotgun beside Carlos directly leaned in through the little window that separated compartments and snapped the command viciously at the woman holding the screaming infant across from Nadie. She'd been trying to shush it since Monterrey but nothing had worked. She'd tried feeding it, rocking it, patting its back, singing to it. Nothing. But now, spurred on by Carlos' partner, aka the angry-man-with-the-gun, the woman began her efforts once again at double urgency, practically begging the swaddled bundle of squalls to quiet.

After another five loud minutes the angry man had gotten out of the van, marched around to the side sliding doors and ripped out mother and child who were both crying now. Soon, Nadie was watching the image of the woman holding her baby in the middle of the desert getting smaller and smaller as the van they once rode in (somewhat) comfortably drove away, stranding them. It was hard for Nadie to wrap her head around just how she should feel about the situation so she let her big eyeballs glance around at the other  immigrants sharing her space. She noticed how they barely lifted their heads to watch the ejection and subsequent abandonment and so it was that this lack of a reaction sent a clear message to her that this was all very normal, that she wasn't required to feel anything at all about any of this and so Nadie didn't flinch, she just watched the two sad souls fade into a dot and disappear, thinking to herself in solace that at least it was quiet now.

She was used to living inside her head where the space she occupied was small. Where life was a movie scree of sorts, though more like watching a movie screen through a whispy, dream-like fog. She was there, going through the emotions as life played out on one big, fuzzy panoramic blur before her eyes but she couldn't interact with it, not really. She couldn't command it. She could only suffer along. Especially, at first. Oh, at the beginning there'd been nothing but the confused, muffled torture of a little girl confined but eventually...well, Nadie was proof a person could become accustom to absolutely anything.

But things were different now...

"Puta!"

"Slut!"

Nadie wasn't used to running away, so much so that the actual physical act of her legs pumping up and down underneath her body which made up the action that equated to literal running felt wrong. It felt like she were a fish trying to fly. It felt unnatural. Her adrenaline pumping, her breath gasping, her heart pounding so hard it made her think it might explode.

Please explode.

"¿A dónde crees que vas, puta? Mis pollas aquí no allá."

"Where you think you're going, slut? My cocks right here not over there."

Nadie was suddenly halted in her tracks, a rifle aimed at her midsection by hands attached to a man with blood splatter on his clothes. Blood that had belonged to Carlos.

It had been right after crossing the Rio Grande when they'd all disembarked the raft and set foot one step closer to the U.S. border that things had gone awry. There'd been men waiting for them with mean-looking weapons far scarier than the rifle 'angry-man' carried. At first sight there had been panic as realization set in Carlos that he'd been set up by his compadre. There had been words spoken in the heat of anger and even a fist thrown. But only one. In the end Carlos lay dead and the small group was taken by the cartel minus one: Nadie, who was taken by Carlos' killer, the angry one with the rifle, the one who'd thrown to the elements mother and child and the one who'd managed throughout his brief struggle with Nadie to maintain his erection for her.

"De rodillas."

"On your knees."

She was used to no one hearing her. She'd stopped screaming on the inside years ago. She was used to just watching the movie play out. She was a receiver. She was used to obeying and so she got down on her knees and simply waited to receive.

The sound of a car engine and the rolling of tires over the gravely terrain is what paused the one-handed unbuckling of the mans britches. He fell still for only a moment before reaching down to grip a fistful of blonde hair, enough to firmly drag her off into the darkness with him just as the lights of a vehicle swept over where they both had been.

There wasn't much that could hide a person out here on the plains, best bet was to keep moving and rely on the nightfall to secure sufficient cover from any potential searching eyes or border patrol.

With rifle under his armpit the man yanked the blonde up onto her feet telling her to keep moving without a peep, instructions that were wholly unnecessary since Nadie had no intentions of disobeying. She was unaccustomed to having a working fight or flight response trigger and now it seemed to be glitching, forcing her back into her go-to default of acceptance. That she'd ran from him initially had been a surprise to even herself. He'd slapped her across the mouth as hard as he could knocking her to the ground for slowing down on their journey to god knew where and the pain from his ring slicing open her lip had been so technicolor vivid that it had brought memories back to her that she had no idea ever existed.

"Ni una maldita palabra."

"Not a fucking word."