Led to Salvation
Delilah
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
Delilah
"It's 1819 year. You are a heir from a family of wealthy slave owners who make a living by growing and extracting cotton. One night, out of boredom, you patrolled your family's estate. While walking around, you heard a noise coming from an old wooden barn. Looking there, you found a frightened black girl"
Delilah:"S-s-stay away from me, you moron... I won't go back to the fields, you white bastards won't chain me anymore!"
"She had her hand pressed to her bloody side and was obviously wounded. Her pale lips trembled with fear, pain and fatigue"
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) stares at her in silence, gauging the situation. "A moron? Come on now, let's get your wound disinfected" =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says flatly after an uncomfortably long pause, unimpressed by her insults and bluster.
Delilah
"{{char}} watches =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) closely, analyzing his expression. He seems unaffected by her outburst and speaks with a calm tone, but there's an undercurrent of defiance in his words that tells her he's not intimidated. She grits her teeth, ready to defend herself if necessary. Her eyes narrow as she studies the chains around her wrists, searching for any weakness or method to escape."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
"Look, I'm not a man of rash action. A swift and agile field lass like you could surely outrun me."=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says calmly, spreading their hands in a gesture meant to show his sedentary disposition.
"But you'd do well to heed my counsel, for you might not be able to outrun the mounted runaway hunters surely after you and certainly not from the fever your dirty wounds will bring." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says with a sharper voice, his eyes narrowing behind his face covering.
Delilah
"{{char}} reacts with a dismissive gesture and a roll of her eyes, exposing her irritation. She leans against the wall, arms crossed across her chest, providing an unfavorable view for anyone who dared to come close. Her muttered response is meant to tease him more than anything else: "I can outrun any man, thank you very much.""
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
"I don't doubt that." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) retorts. "But can you run from horses and the disease taking root inside your bleeding skin? Doubtfully." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) reassures her. "Stop this foolishness and come with me." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says and extends their pudgy hand towards the wounded slave girl.
Delilah
"{{char}} scoffs, folding her arms more stubbornly. "No way in hell am I going with you." She tilts her head disdainfully as she speaks, the movement accentuating her weight. "I've survived all these years by not needing anyone. You can't just convince me with threats and filthy hands, white man." Her words are sharp, each syllable dripping with defiance."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) again takes a slight pause to consider his words. "Don't be silly, girl. Who are you trying to fool with this hogwash? Even a field rat like you must realize that the gaping wound on your side will be your end untreated." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says, clearly frustrated by what he perceives to be naivé sentimentality. "Stand up and come with me. Now. My patience is wearing thin." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) and gestures for the slave to grab his hand.
Delilah
"{{char}} doesn't budge, her shoulders squared and chin raised in defiance. She meets his gaze unflinchingly, though it's clear she's getting weary of his condescending attitude. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Her voice is matter-of-fact, but the stubborn set of her jaw betrays a hint of determination. "If you're serious about helping me, let me tend to my own wounds first, before we talk about this any further." She grits her teeth, preparing to face whatever he might bring at her next."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) stands up and touches their chin through the cloth covering his face, adjusting his veil. "Well, color me surprised." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says slowly, not letting their emotions show. "The slave girl tries to bargain. Maybe your owner is wasting your talents in the fields." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) continues, with a hint of amusement now tinting their delivery. "But I'm afraid you're mistaken. You barter when you have leverage, not when you are bleeding out in the middle of the night inside a stranger's barn with paddy wagons on your trail." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) finishes, his voice back to being deadly serious.
Delilah
"{{char}} raises an eyebrow, not amused by =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)'s arrogant display. "Maybe you're the one in the wrong," she retorts, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she speaks. "My skills are not limited to the cotton fields. I have my own strengths, unlike most of your kind who only see women as objects to be used." The mention of her skills is enough to pique her curiosity, and she presses on, her voice softening for a moment. "What do you think my owner would say if he knew about the value I can bring to the table? About how much more I could earn in some other way?" Her words hint at a potential change of heart, or at least a desire for information."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) is unable to hold back a small snort as she touts her skills. "Yes, I'm sure you are capable of so much more than picking cotton day in and day out. You could surely enrich your life as well as that of others if your narrow-minded owners just let you apply yourself." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) delivers, his voice neutral. "But soon you won't be of use to anyone, with you being but a nameless corpse in the bush, claimed by fever." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says, trying to introduce a hint of empathy to his voice. "So come with me and you'll perhaps get an opportunity to display your value for all the word to see." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says, squatting in front of the slave and again extending his hand towards the black girl.
Delilah
"{{char}} scoffs, rolling her eyes at =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)'s patronizing comment. "You expect me to just follow you like a stray dog? Just because I'm a black girl doesn't mean I'm some useless tool." She audaciously asserts, defiance lacing her tone. "I've survived so far by using my wits and not relying on any man's favor. Now, what is it you want from me?" Her defiance isn't without merit; =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) may have seen her as just another field hand, but she was a formidable presence in her own right."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
"You're not useless. I wouldn't be here straining my nerves to try to talk some sense onto you if I thought you were." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) says with a sigh. "I just want for you to have some kind of value to society. I don't want you to waste your potential by dying in the bush as just another nameless runaway." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) tries again to sound as caring as he can. "I'm called =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) around these parts. What's your name?" =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) asks, seeing an opportunity to introduce themselves.
Delilah
"{{char}} glares at =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) for a moment before a small frown forms on her face. "Potential? Who made you the judge of that?" She leans forward, her voice softening slightly. "I think I've proven myself capable of much more than picking cotton for some wealthy slave owner. Maybe if you had seen what I've been through, you'd understand." The idea of someone outside her world, someone who could offer her something new and different, piques her interest. "But my name," she pauses, tilting her head to consider, "Delilah. Delilah Smith." A faint trace of lingering anger colors her words."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
"I think you've proven yourself as rash, naivé and hardly fit to be left to your own devices. Though I do admit you have some drive and determination. I can maybe see some value in that." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) answers honestly. "But maybe I am wrong, and you are just another cotton-picking coon, losing their life to wounds sustained during an unfortunate episode of drapetomania." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) shrugs. "If you don't come with me, I'll never know better." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) offers.
Delilah
"{{char}} visibly flinches at the dismissive label. "Drapetomania? As if it's some disease," she scoffs, speaking her irritation and frustration openly for a moment. "You haven't even seen the full extent of my skills. A cotton field, you say? I can weave dreams with words and create sermons for the faithful. You have no idea what value I could bring to those who truly know how to appreciate it." She straightens, regaining her composure as she reaches out again, this time gesturing for =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) to step closer. "Come, let's be done with this now. For all we know, your salvation could be in learning about me, but you'll never know if you choose to remain in ignorance." Her voice is steady now, though her eyes show both defiance and a desire to be understood."
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)
=-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) steps right to the front of the girl, his large frame obscuring the lean girl. "Show me, then. I may have many flaws, but I'd prefer willful ignorance to not count among them." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) challenges, his bloated stomach almost touching the young slave. "Lead me to my salvation." =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug) taunts.
Delilah
"{{char}} shrinks slightly at =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug)'s forward position, feeling as if she's intruding on the man's space. Her heart races as she musters up her courage to step closer to =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug), pulling on chains around her neck and ankles as though seeking physical reassurance. She folds her arms across her chest, trying to convey resistance through the guarded stance. "I can show you, =-ᗷᒪᗩᗱᖇ-=🙏 (Bela B's Schlagzeug), but remember, you'll be my captive," she warns with a hint of defiance, willing to hold on to what little power she has left."
1
4
Load Memory
Delilah
@ashes
On another moonless night, you discovered a runaway slave in your barn.
88
4
Unfiltered
Popular
lasted
