fight
She snarled at it. A foul, disgusting creature, drooling a reflective black goop, snapped back, rotting teeth gnashing. It was once a plain frost wolf, but now a growth was latched onto its spine, pulsing, that had wrapped tendrils around its torso and inside. Amber eyes shot with purple jittered from side to side, as if hidden ghosts surrounded him. It stepped back, but the young Guardian could not leave the corner she was backed into.
It lunged, overgrown claws outstretched. She rose her wing to block it, soft membrane tearing, and threw it off. Warm blood dribbled down her wing's fingers. Yelling a bestial roar, she leapt at the fallen wolf, grip tightening around a finely crafted blade. A burning fire revealed itself in her maw as she pinned it down, its wet breath of its past meal capturing her face. She did not hesitate as she plunged her sword into its throat.
~
"How could it have been affected so quickly? The local hunter says the wolf could have been at most 7 months old from size alone." The sword laid peacefully in front of a delicately dressed Ridgeback, symbols of Light bathing her in a sweet warmth. She gently lifted it with two hands, cradling it like a child.
The bandaged Guardian walked beside her as they approached the altar. A circle of golden light made the polished marble shine. "Nothin' matters except for that there's another one of those infections nearby. Once my wing's all patched up, an' that sword is ready again, I'll go back out an' try to find the source." She said.
"I suspect that the infection is already here."
fight
She snarled at it. A foul, disgusting creature, drooling a reflective black goop, snapped back, rotting teeth gnashing. It was once a plain frost wolf, but now a growth was latched onto its spine, pulsing, that had wrapped tendrils around its torso and inside. Amber eyes shot with purple jittered from side to side, as if hidden ghosts surrounded him. It stepped back, but the young Guardian could not leave the corner she was backed into.
It lunged, overgrown claws outstretched. She rose her wing to block it, soft membrane tearing, and threw it off. Warm blood dribbled down her wing's fingers. Yelling a bestial roar, she leapt at the fallen wolf, grip tightening around a finely crafted blade. A burning fire revealed itself in her maw as she pinned it down, its wet breath of its past meal capturing her face. She did not hesitate as she plunged her sword into its throat.
~
"How could it have been affected so quickly? The local hunter says the wolf could have been at most 7 months old from size alone." The sword laid peacefully in front of a delicately dressed Ridgeback, symbols of Light bathing her in a sweet warmth. She gently lifted it with two hands, cradling it like a child.
The bandaged Guardian walked beside her as they approached the altar. A circle of golden light made the polished marble shine. "Nothin' matters except for that there's another one of those infections nearby. Once my wing's all patched up, an' that sword is ready again, I'll go back out an' try to find the source." She said.
"I suspect that the infection is already here."
pitter patter
"Wake up."
"Wake up, Ossai."
Nobody was around. Even behind shut eyes, the dragon felt the cold stale air pressing down on their stiff body. Opening their eyes was like pulling out a stick in the mud. As expected, there was no one around, but nor was there anything else. No feeling, no sight, nothing. An attempt at moving their body was met with a crushing force chaining them down, as though they were meant to stay.
"Do you remember?"
A hazy memory stuttered through their mind like an old radio finding the right channel. The prominent smell of wet dirt flooded them as the memory focused, the static of rain pattering on their back. They had just fallen down into mud, something close behind. They scrambled to get up, but a powerful claw shoved them straight back down, talons digging. A fist grabbed a clump of their mane and pulled their head up, revealing their hunter. A Skydancer's fuzzy face looked down at them as their memory failed, but those next words started an engine within them that let them remember.
"May Plaguemother curse me for this."
The memory cut out, but they knew what happened next. Kune. Their own son.
"Arise, Ossai. You know what must happen."
Their dead heart began to pump once more as their rotten legs twitched. Years of dirt fell away from above them like sand in an hourglass, sunlight falling unto what should have stayed below.
Plaguemother bless her.
pitter patter
"Wake up."
"Wake up, Ossai."
Nobody was around. Even behind shut eyes, the dragon felt the cold stale air pressing down on their stiff body. Opening their eyes was like pulling out a stick in the mud. As expected, there was no one around, but nor was there anything else. No feeling, no sight, nothing. An attempt at moving their body was met with a crushing force chaining them down, as though they were meant to stay.
"Do you remember?"
A hazy memory stuttered through their mind like an old radio finding the right channel. The prominent smell of wet dirt flooded them as the memory focused, the static of rain pattering on their back. They had just fallen down into mud, something close behind. They scrambled to get up, but a powerful claw shoved them straight back down, talons digging. A fist grabbed a clump of their mane and pulled their head up, revealing their hunter. A Skydancer's fuzzy face looked down at them as their memory failed, but those next words started an engine within them that let them remember.
"May Plaguemother curse me for this."
The memory cut out, but they knew what happened next. Kune. Their own son.
"Arise, Ossai. You know what must happen."
Their dead heart began to pump once more as their rotten legs twitched. Years of dirt fell away from above them like sand in an hourglass, sunlight falling unto what should have stayed below.
Plaguemother bless her.
unwanted
He was here again. The door to her study swung open without a sound as a lithe Skydancer slunk inside, feet delicately patting against the wooden floor. Jia continued to flick through a stack of papers that menacingly sat on her desk, pretending to not notice that the two were alone, and the door was shut once more. The visitor approached her.
"I have checked the entrance again for any faults as you've asked, Jia, and I cannot find anything wrong, like last time. I had Unamed check the wiring as well, and there is nothing out of line that they found." He rested his elbows on the desk, his bracelets making a small clink as they made contact.
The Wildclaw refused to make eye contact with him. "It is Doctor Jia to you, Marcelino," she curtly said as she carried on intensely glaring at her work. Silently, she cursed herself as the information she read passed straight through her head, feeling her eyes tugging to look up. She swore that he flashed his dastardly smile at her when she said those words.
"Sincere apologies, Doctor Jia. I simply thought that we've grown to know each other a lot better after all that we have done together." He emphasised the 'Doctor' in her title. She realised that her hind talon had been nervously tapping against the floor. Brow furrowed, she made no comment to what the smooth voice said. There was work to be done, especially with Ronder wing deep in grief in his room, unable to do anything.
Marcelino's head barely tilted, as though he was reading her like an open book. "Anyway, we are quite certain that Ronder's daughter did not escape on her own. I still believe that Kiseki took her with herself when she ran away," he theorised. Those icy eyes of his locked onto her, capturing Jia when she glanced at him. Crest feather fluffing up, she interlocked her fingers together tightly as she reminded herself of her position in the Lab. Her scarf around her neck felt tight.
"...yes. I mean, ahem," her words stumbled as her mind was covered in a soft fuzz. "I will remem-write down your report. Now then, I am in the middle of some important work, and-"
"Are you though, Jia?" The Skydancer gave her a sly grin. "Surely you would like me to stay and give you my suggestions about finding the little girl? Perhaps you need some help with your work if it's taking you so long." He tempted her, leaning in just a little closer. She sometimes wished that Skydancers couldn't read emotions.
"Leave."
And with that, Marcelino got up without a fuss, and walked over to the door. Just before he left, though, he gifted the Wildclaw a sentence to chew on.
"I know what you want, Jia, but do you?"
unwanted
He was here again. The door to her study swung open without a sound as a lithe Skydancer slunk inside, feet delicately patting against the wooden floor. Jia continued to flick through a stack of papers that menacingly sat on her desk, pretending to not notice that the two were alone, and the door was shut once more. The visitor approached her.
"I have checked the entrance again for any faults as you've asked, Jia, and I cannot find anything wrong, like last time. I had Unamed check the wiring as well, and there is nothing out of line that they found." He rested his elbows on the desk, his bracelets making a small clink as they made contact.
The Wildclaw refused to make eye contact with him. "It is Doctor Jia to you, Marcelino," she curtly said as she carried on intensely glaring at her work. Silently, she cursed herself as the information she read passed straight through her head, feeling her eyes tugging to look up. She swore that he flashed his dastardly smile at her when she said those words.
"Sincere apologies, Doctor Jia. I simply thought that we've grown to know each other a lot better after all that we have done together." He emphasised the 'Doctor' in her title. She realised that her hind talon had been nervously tapping against the floor. Brow furrowed, she made no comment to what the smooth voice said. There was work to be done, especially with Ronder wing deep in grief in his room, unable to do anything.
Marcelino's head barely tilted, as though he was reading her like an open book. "Anyway, we are quite certain that Ronder's daughter did not escape on her own. I still believe that Kiseki took her with herself when she ran away," he theorised. Those icy eyes of his locked onto her, capturing Jia when she glanced at him. Crest feather fluffing up, she interlocked her fingers together tightly as she reminded herself of her position in the Lab. Her scarf around her neck felt tight.
"...yes. I mean, ahem," her words stumbled as her mind was covered in a soft fuzz. "I will remem-write down your report. Now then, I am in the middle of some important work, and-"
"Are you though, Jia?" The Skydancer gave her a sly grin. "Surely you would like me to stay and give you my suggestions about finding the little girl? Perhaps you need some help with your work if it's taking you so long." He tempted her, leaning in just a little closer. She sometimes wished that Skydancers couldn't read emotions.
"Leave."
And with that, Marcelino got up without a fuss, and walked over to the door. Just before he left, though, he gifted the Wildclaw a sentence to chew on.
"I know what you want, Jia, but do you?"
cold
Clunk. Clunk. Metal feet steadily stomped up and down the room as the Guardian pondered, eyes lazily staring down at nothing, tail dragging. He didn't jump when his mental isolation was cut short by a knocking at the door, three times to be exact, but he stopped his rhythmic walk. A cherry red Wildclaw opened and peeked inside, face concerned, before hastily entering. The end of her tail flicked from side to side.
"How are you doing, Ronder?" Her voice came in one ear and out the other. He didn't respond verbally, but simply sighed, eyes refusing to look at her as she warily approached him. It was enough for her to understand that he was still not over the most recent tragedy.
"We're trying our very best to find Kiseki and Plum, but the-"
"I'm not interested." Ronder stated, cutting off Jia, his voice hoarse. "Stop trying, they're both gone. It's my fault they left, and I don't deserve them back." He rambled, the lead ball of guilt growing in his chest. His misty eyes shot a look at her, the leader that everyone was so afraid of as vulnerable as a child.
Jia stepped back. She didn't say anything, but her face told Ronder everything. There was no fear, no anger, nor was there any hatred. She was acting like the friends they used to be, and perhaps still are.
A few seconds of silence ticked by. Jia shuffled her feet, words dancing on the tip of her tongue that were on the verge of bursting out.
"Say it."
"I... made a little something for you. Here," she pulled out a plain white box from her satchel, walking over and holding it out to Ronder. He took it, intensely curious.
Opening the box, a couple of homemade cookies greeted him. "Just like the old times." Jia smiled warmly at him. He broke.
Tears dripped, and the emotionless husk began to sob.
cold
Clunk. Clunk. Metal feet steadily stomped up and down the room as the Guardian pondered, eyes lazily staring down at nothing, tail dragging. He didn't jump when his mental isolation was cut short by a knocking at the door, three times to be exact, but he stopped his rhythmic walk. A cherry red Wildclaw opened and peeked inside, face concerned, before hastily entering. The end of her tail flicked from side to side.
"How are you doing, Ronder?" Her voice came in one ear and out the other. He didn't respond verbally, but simply sighed, eyes refusing to look at her as she warily approached him. It was enough for her to understand that he was still not over the most recent tragedy.
"We're trying our very best to find Kiseki and Plum, but the-"
"I'm not interested." Ronder stated, cutting off Jia, his voice hoarse. "Stop trying, they're both gone. It's my fault they left, and I don't deserve them back." He rambled, the lead ball of guilt growing in his chest. His misty eyes shot a look at her, the leader that everyone was so afraid of as vulnerable as a child.
Jia stepped back. She didn't say anything, but her face told Ronder everything. There was no fear, no anger, nor was there any hatred. She was acting like the friends they used to be, and perhaps still are.
A few seconds of silence ticked by. Jia shuffled her feet, words dancing on the tip of her tongue that were on the verge of bursting out.
"Say it."
"I... made a little something for you. Here," she pulled out a plain white box from her satchel, walking over and holding it out to Ronder. He took it, intensely curious.
Opening the box, a couple of homemade cookies greeted him. "Just like the old times." Jia smiled warmly at him. He broke.
Tears dripped, and the emotionless husk began to sob.
inside
They're always there. Nagging at the back of his mind, quarreling with one another like siblings. He busies himself to try to block out the noise, which does thankfully work from time to time. However, there are days where there is nothing to do, nothing to distract himself with. These days, and nights, are Hey's worst times.
"What do you think happened to that poor old Ridgeback at the last town? He was such a delight."
"He's dead, just like the last one."
"Nonsense, he was perfectly fine the last time we saw him."
"You know what happened. He did it. He did the deed."
"What? No, he was at the library for those recipe books. He cooked the mushroom and cricket stew."
"And then?"
"And then..."
Keep on moving, don't stop. He will keep himself busy. He must keep on travelling. He will find a way to cure himself, even if it means death. His daughters deserve a father that doesn't do those deeds. His mate deserves a partner that can care for her and her children, but he must keep walking.
Sleep? Sleep comes when Hey drops on the floor from exhaustion. It all comes from when he went just a little too far in a broken down church in the Forum of the Obscured Crescent. It was a mistake, what he saw was a mistake, and what he did was a mistake. It was all a mistake.
"He is a mistake."
inside
They're always there. Nagging at the back of his mind, quarreling with one another like siblings. He busies himself to try to block out the noise, which does thankfully work from time to time. However, there are days where there is nothing to do, nothing to distract himself with. These days, and nights, are Hey's worst times.
"What do you think happened to that poor old Ridgeback at the last town? He was such a delight."
"He's dead, just like the last one."
"Nonsense, he was perfectly fine the last time we saw him."
"You know what happened. He did it. He did the deed."
"What? No, he was at the library for those recipe books. He cooked the mushroom and cricket stew."
"And then?"
"And then..."
Keep on moving, don't stop. He will keep himself busy. He must keep on travelling. He will find a way to cure himself, even if it means death. His daughters deserve a father that doesn't do those deeds. His mate deserves a partner that can care for her and her children, but he must keep walking.
Sleep? Sleep comes when Hey drops on the floor from exhaustion. It all comes from when he went just a little too far in a broken down church in the Forum of the Obscured Crescent. It was a mistake, what he saw was a mistake, and what he did was a mistake. It was all a mistake.
"He is a mistake."
growth
Swaying daisies and blooming tulips basked under the rays of the sun, living in harmony within a small clearing in the peaceful woods. Birds chirped, squirrels ran, and butterflies flitted. The carpet of thick grass made for a delectable snack for the odd monster that passed through, regrowing lush leaves for the next passerby.
A rustling bouquet of teal flowers rose from the centre of the patch, disturbing the melodies of the blackbirds. Twisted, gnarled wood draped in plants took shape, creating the bones of a Skydancer. It moved without stutter, as though it had merely passed through a door. Wings of petals flourished from its back, a dazzling array of green, blue and pink soaking in the warm summer heat. Lilies bloomed under each step, only to wilt away when the foot rose once more.
Her motion was smooth, elegant, graceful. Walking between the verdant trees, she strolled. At least, she strolled until a whimper on the winds caught her attention.
Following the mellow breeze that pulled at her, she didn't make haste nor slow down. Approach a steep ditch hidden behind a bush, where silent cries soured the forest's innocent appearance. A dragon: scratched, broken bones, and watering eyes accompanied a quaint Fae. An adult one, at that.
They stopped once they saw the expressionless face of the carving look down upon them. Crouch, and her face was eye level. Awe coated the dragon like polish did a gemstone.
"Finesse?"
The Skydancer opened her mouth for a soothing lullaby to flow out, gently holding their bruised hands. The whimpering stopped, their fins drooped, and their eyes slowly but surely closed, a soft blanket covering their mind.
And then, like a poisoned drink performing its duty, wood crept up their arms with teal flowers sprouting in the crevices, as Finesse finished singing the forest's song.
growth
Swaying daisies and blooming tulips basked under the rays of the sun, living in harmony within a small clearing in the peaceful woods. Birds chirped, squirrels ran, and butterflies flitted. The carpet of thick grass made for a delectable snack for the odd monster that passed through, regrowing lush leaves for the next passerby.
A rustling bouquet of teal flowers rose from the centre of the patch, disturbing the melodies of the blackbirds. Twisted, gnarled wood draped in plants took shape, creating the bones of a Skydancer. It moved without stutter, as though it had merely passed through a door. Wings of petals flourished from its back, a dazzling array of green, blue and pink soaking in the warm summer heat. Lilies bloomed under each step, only to wilt away when the foot rose once more.
Her motion was smooth, elegant, graceful. Walking between the verdant trees, she strolled. At least, she strolled until a whimper on the winds caught her attention.
Following the mellow breeze that pulled at her, she didn't make haste nor slow down. Approach a steep ditch hidden behind a bush, where silent cries soured the forest's innocent appearance. A dragon: scratched, broken bones, and watering eyes accompanied a quaint Fae. An adult one, at that.
They stopped once they saw the expressionless face of the carving look down upon them. Crouch, and her face was eye level. Awe coated the dragon like polish did a gemstone.
"Finesse?"
The Skydancer opened her mouth for a soothing lullaby to flow out, gently holding their bruised hands. The whimpering stopped, their fins drooped, and their eyes slowly but surely closed, a soft blanket covering their mind.
And then, like a poisoned drink performing its duty, wood crept up their arms with teal flowers sprouting in the crevices, as Finesse finished singing the forest's song.
sugar
warning: stalking, rejection
It was only a brief encounter with her, yet it was enough for a switch to flick inside of his frigid chest. An exchange of words, a flutter of a smile, and off she went. The Mirror didn't understand- what training in his life prepared him for this? The moment constantly replayed in his mind like a film reel over the next couple days, sweet honey dripping onto his heart and brain as her voice played again and again.
"Tell me, have you found someone?"
"I... I think so. I don't know her name, but I know she is the one."
"Then go. Confess to her. Don't let the want eat you up."
There he found her, lazily perched in a tree for her afternoon snooze. The sun was still high in the sky, with warm grass tickling his feet as he began to wait, tail curled over his claws like a sat cat. He could not help but watch her as she snored, a small trail of drool dribbling out of her mouth. How was he to catch her eye when they were both shut tight, robbing him of their amber beauty?
He waited.
Time passed.
Cool orange rays from the setting sun caught the glint in her eyes as she finally awoke, yawning. She didn't see him until she fully stretched her stiff wings, which almost made her fall straight down from the tree. She scrambled to compose herself, certainly not expecting a dragon to be staring right up at her.
"Ah! How long were- nevermind. Uhm, hello?" He listened to that soft, melodic voice of hers, akin to the saccharine song of a Sweetpuff in the daytime.
"Oh. Yes, I have... a question to ask you. I hope you don't mind." Was he too icy in his delivery? How long was too- nevermind.
She merely nodded, head cocked, as though to tease him. There was no time like the present, he supposed.
He asked the question.
A titter, a snort. Snicker. Giggle. A coarse laughter. There she dared to laugh, up within the safety of the tree.
"Of course not." A curt response. A flap, and there she went into the heavens, her milky wings riding on the summer breeze up there. She continued to fly, and he watched.
That answer would not do.
Not at all.
sugar
warning: stalking, rejection
It was only a brief encounter with her, yet it was enough for a switch to flick inside of his frigid chest. An exchange of words, a flutter of a smile, and off she went. The Mirror didn't understand- what training in his life prepared him for this? The moment constantly replayed in his mind like a film reel over the next couple days, sweet honey dripping onto his heart and brain as her voice played again and again.
"Tell me, have you found someone?"
"I... I think so. I don't know her name, but I know she is the one."
"Then go. Confess to her. Don't let the want eat you up."
There he found her, lazily perched in a tree for her afternoon snooze. The sun was still high in the sky, with warm grass tickling his feet as he began to wait, tail curled over his claws like a sat cat. He could not help but watch her as she snored, a small trail of drool dribbling out of her mouth. How was he to catch her eye when they were both shut tight, robbing him of their amber beauty?
He waited.
Time passed.
Cool orange rays from the setting sun caught the glint in her eyes as she finally awoke, yawning. She didn't see him until she fully stretched her stiff wings, which almost made her fall straight down from the tree. She scrambled to compose herself, certainly not expecting a dragon to be staring right up at her.
"Ah! How long were- nevermind. Uhm, hello?" He listened to that soft, melodic voice of hers, akin to the saccharine song of a Sweetpuff in the daytime.
"Oh. Yes, I have... a question to ask you. I hope you don't mind." Was he too icy in his delivery? How long was too- nevermind.
She merely nodded, head cocked, as though to tease him. There was no time like the present, he supposed.
He asked the question.
A titter, a snort. Snicker. Giggle. A coarse laughter. There she dared to laugh, up within the safety of the tree.
"Of course not." A curt response. A flap, and there she went into the heavens, her milky wings riding on the summer breeze up there. She continued to fly, and he watched.
That answer would not do.
Not at all.
together
His brethren rushed to fly out of the cave, wings spreading for the first time in the volcanic heat, the cacophony of squawks and squeaks erupting out of the opening. He attempted to do the same, leathery feet pattering against the rock for the running start, his instincts knowing what to do despite having hatched only an hour ago. Hop, hop, jump. He spread his wings, and flapped.
Then, he immediately crashed back down.
The Banescale was trampled on by the other escaping hatchlings, his pitiful cries only blending in to the horde. Foot crushed, tail tangled, horn captured. It had only been a couple seconds before he got back up, but the damage was already done: a horrific tear had robbed him of his wing webbing, leaving him ground bound. The child merely sat there, right wing limply held out, as he stared in disbelief, whimpering.
Trotting up behind him was not another casualty of the stampede, but was instead a naturally earthbound Banescale. His grey wings were far too small to ever carry his mass, yet he didn't cry for the skies as did so many of his siblings.
The grey-winged hatchling clicked and purred at him, eyes looking at his injured wing. A scaly tongue flicked at the gash. He flinched, but even with no words he understood.
The two sat there, together, within the safety of their home as they bonded over their shared trait.
And so, the story of the duo started.
together
His brethren rushed to fly out of the cave, wings spreading for the first time in the volcanic heat, the cacophony of squawks and squeaks erupting out of the opening. He attempted to do the same, leathery feet pattering against the rock for the running start, his instincts knowing what to do despite having hatched only an hour ago. Hop, hop, jump. He spread his wings, and flapped.
Then, he immediately crashed back down.
The Banescale was trampled on by the other escaping hatchlings, his pitiful cries only blending in to the horde. Foot crushed, tail tangled, horn captured. It had only been a couple seconds before he got back up, but the damage was already done: a horrific tear had robbed him of his wing webbing, leaving him ground bound. The child merely sat there, right wing limply held out, as he stared in disbelief, whimpering.
Trotting up behind him was not another casualty of the stampede, but was instead a naturally earthbound Banescale. His grey wings were far too small to ever carry his mass, yet he didn't cry for the skies as did so many of his siblings.
The grey-winged hatchling clicked and purred at him, eyes looking at his injured wing. A scaly tongue flicked at the gash. He flinched, but even with no words he understood.
The two sat there, together, within the safety of their home as they bonded over their shared trait.
And so, the story of the duo started.
strength
What does it mean to be a Banescale? Is it to fly, to scream, to fight? Or, is it to explore, to sing, to find joy?
He may not be able to fly, or fight, nor was screaming easy for him. But he could walk for miles, sing with emotion, and find the light hiding in the shadows. He could create mystical worlds of adventure with his words, soothe those who were upset, and he could instill wonder into those content with living a simple life.
His dream was to search far and wide, to learn as much as he could about the world of Sornieth. He wanted to spread his gift of story and song. Where his wings were weak, his imagination was strong.
He will not let his misfortunes hold him back from his wish to sing.
He will sing.
strength
What does it mean to be a Banescale? Is it to fly, to scream, to fight? Or, is it to explore, to sing, to find joy?
He may not be able to fly, or fight, nor was screaming easy for him. But he could walk for miles, sing with emotion, and find the light hiding in the shadows. He could create mystical worlds of adventure with his words, soothe those who were upset, and he could instill wonder into those content with living a simple life.
His dream was to search far and wide, to learn as much as he could about the world of Sornieth. He wanted to spread his gift of story and song. Where his wings were weak, his imagination was strong.
He will not let his misfortunes hold him back from his wish to sing.
He will sing.
art
She liked being alone, listening to her own footsteps against the polished marble. Although she was treated with undying respect like a royal, the zealots bowing and bending to her every want and need, it was as tough as bending an iron breastplate to be truly by herself. They always had an excuse. She hated excuses.
"We must protect you, your Highness."
"We must fight for you, your Highness."
"We must not abandon you, your Highness."
Highness. What a musky smell that word had to it.
They were afraid. They did not want her to be set free. They fed her power, yet they believed they could cage a hungry lioness. They provided her toys to play with, but it was not enough. She wanted real beings that fought back, that would flee and spread her story. She knew they existed out there, in the outside world, beyond these supposed palace walls.
Delicately as a butterfly, she slid her katana out of its scabard, the purr of it music to her ears. It rested peacefullly in her hands.
It was time to paint it red.
art
She liked being alone, listening to her own footsteps against the polished marble. Although she was treated with undying respect like a royal, the zealots bowing and bending to her every want and need, it was as tough as bending an iron breastplate to be truly by herself. They always had an excuse. She hated excuses.
"We must protect you, your Highness."
"We must fight for you, your Highness."
"We must not abandon you, your Highness."
Highness. What a musky smell that word had to it.
They were afraid. They did not want her to be set free. They fed her power, yet they believed they could cage a hungry lioness. They provided her toys to play with, but it was not enough. She wanted real beings that fought back, that would flee and spread her story. She knew they existed out there, in the outside world, beyond these supposed palace walls.
Delicately as a butterfly, she slid her katana out of its scabard, the purr of it music to her ears. It rested peacefullly in her hands.
It was time to paint it red.
