Orchid

In the heart of the relentless fray, where blades clashed and screams melded into an unsettling symphony, Orchid, who would become known later as the Dynamo Diplomat, stood as a solitary figure amidst chaos. The world around her was a whirlwind of steel and scales, a brutal dance of war and destruction that threatened to consume all semblance of reason.

Amidst the blood-soaked earth and the savage clash of forces, she found herself grappling with the echoes of a past that could not be forgotten. Her mind, a battlefield of memories, replayed a song that had once been a sweet melody of shared dreams and love. Now, it was a haunting lament, a mournful refrain that underscored the brutality of the present.

"I cannot write to you. Any longer,"
Orchid's whispered voice mingled with the clash of metal, a desperate plea for understanding amidst the cacophony of battle. The lyrics of her poem, etched into her very soul, resonated with the weight of unresolved pain and heartache.

The dirty, bloody earth shook and shifted beneath her feet, and shrill cries of war were repeated throughout the stiff, stifled air. Metal upon metal clanked, and the sound of skulls crackling underneath powerful feet and between powerful jaws created a sort of symphony. Scales on scales and thunder from the ashen sky above all contributed to the music playing in her head.

The ashen sky above mirrored the turmoil in her heart, its ominous presence casting a pall over the scene. In the midst of the melee, Orchid's thoughts danced with memories of a time when love had flourished, when dreams had been shared, and futures had seemed intertwined. But now, the dream had soured, the notes of affection giving way to the dissonant chords of conflict.

She had heard this song before. She had danced to it once with another. Shifting only a little weight between her messy and scarred feet, she began to sing softly to herself, her tongue dancing wildly in her maw, between her teeth, her body shivering like gel.

"for my claws shake an’ my wings tremble ‘cause I’ve found someone new- whose dreams are stronger"

The orchestra in her feeble mind began to pick up, the crashing of brass and their mourning of beautiful pain sizzled hot in her heart. A body was thrown and fell to the ground, kicking up dirt that fell like rain, but – in her song – it was the chorus, their voices dribbling and swinging from ear to ear.

Giving a short shake of the head she began to run, the strength of her legs were remaining steady, and her heavy footfalls the tempo. Her breathy voice, heavy and hitching from the dense air she had lived in for so very long, keeping with the chorus only she could hear. Her armor jangled and sung with her, and the band around her broad hind leg bore her sheet music; all of the notes and lyrical muses sent to her by her love, her only light.

She dreamed of her in restless, musical sleep, oh how she did.

As the battle raged on, Orchid's body moved with a mechanical determination, her armor clanking like a metronome keeping time with the relentless tempo of war. Each step she took was a painful reminder of the journey she had undertaken, a path that had led her to this harrowing confrontation.

"Than you can ever assemble with your weak mind and savage heart," Orchid's voice wavered, her words a bitter indictment of a love that had been built upon shaky foundations. The bitterness and regret swirled within her, fueling her determination to endure the onslaught and find a way to make amends.

The song turned to a crescendo of instruments and song and love and pain as she neared closer to the heart of the battle. She tore at an opposing dragon, and it turned over with cries of injury, that only heightened the refrain of song in her mind.

Iron flooded her mouth with sickeningly sweet vigor, and she wanted to scream with a twisted sort of pleasure at the volume the band had reached. She could simply run forward, crushing that young, pained body she had tossed aside so carelessly.

She was there, singing her lyrics for her. She loved her voice, but it didn’t love her in return.

"that beat only for war an’ left you dangerously blind- an’ made us grow apart."

Her voice offset the chorus, turning the clean brass to bloody rust. Rust, rust, rust. The liquid metal dripping from between her teeth was much too sweet, much too rich for her.
But she was so very beautiful, and just for her.
Wasn’t she, wasn’t she just?
Her breathing came out from her nose heavily, and she tried to keep up with the song in her mind that was wearing away at the walls of her mind.

"Painfully so, I cannot ignore. So, goodbye my warrior, - for the longest time"

A group of battling bodies halted her own, the pads of her feet hot from the dust she had kicked up. Snarls were shared between them, though they only sounded like the shredding wind instruments. She lowered herself, enough to smell that iron, but the larger body in front of her pounced, its prehistoric claws tearing her apart.
She fell back, curling around as the orchestra was reaching its climax, as she sung like the siren she was, reeling her in, terrifying her.
Rust poured from her wounds, coursing down her unprotected broad side, and her ears began to ring from the volume.

"an’ please don’t wait, for you won’t see my courier- or hear his bells chime"

She was caught again, thrown about like a ragged doll in a painful dance of war, and jaws caught her thrashing column of her throat. She did scream then; screamed, her pleasure turned to pain, at the volume and the rust and the diminishing vision of her when her lyrics were torn from the band about her leg, scattered to the battleground.
Her flooded eyes met the ones of his attacker, and both pairs were the same. She continued to cry, hers battered body slamming the dirty earth.
The music played on so loudly, and her eyes swept, and her muscles pooled about him, failing her, failing her, failing her. She saw the warring Gods. The Plaguebringer left her so battered. Her blooded eyes only saw the war, and they sung their own music.
She choked out a strangled sob, breathing hard, tasting blood that was both her own and someone else’s. Then, the instruments finally shattered, and the chorus began to taper, taking her along with it.

But even amidst the chaos, amidst the blades and fury, Orchid held onto a fragile hope. "On each receiving date. I cannot love you,- any longer." her voice grew fainter, strained by the effort to be heard over the roar of battle. Yet, her resolve remained unbroken, her determination unwavering.

As the battle raged on, Orchid's strength began to wane, her body battered and broken. The pain she carried, both physical and emotional, weighed heavily upon her. The lyrics of her poem, once a source of solace, had become a haunting refrain that reverberated through her very being.

“Please…don’t leave me; stay. Together we can still be…,” she whispered desperately, her eyes finding the torn sheets, stomped and tread on by the battle. She wanted to take them up, to protect them, to try and clean them off and keep them preserved as she had done for so many years.
Her crushed lungs were failing her now, and she couldn’t breathe. Her voice was losing oxygen as well, it seemed, but she was turning away, her wings folded and trembling for that new mate. Was it pain she saw?

And as the battle's crescendo reached its peak, Orchid's voice faltered and faded, her final words carried away by the winds of war. She succumbed to the darkness that descended, her consciousness slipping away as the symphony of battle played on, a tragic melody of love and loss, forever etched into the tapestry of her life.

“Look at me,
look at me.
Together –
we can…still be…” she begged the vision, the voice she was struggling to hear. Her sight began to blacken, leaving only her receding figure.
“I love you, dear heart,
dear heart,
and you will love me a-gain.
We won’t be apart
if you look at me.”

I will not.

Then, she saw nothing at all.
And She whispered of her failure. Her failure, her failure, her failure.