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| (open)Delicate Creatures...; ...should be handled with care | |
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| Topic Started: Wed Mar 19, 2008 2:35 am (519 Views) | |
| Unknown | Wed Mar 19, 2008 2:35 am Post #1 |
 
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She sat on a rock, this delicate creature in a black dress. Her fingers ran along the strings of an instrument, a golden harp. Her blue eyes stared past the strings and into something else, unreal and beyond human sight. Her black hair curled around her shoulders, the vacant look in her eyes matching the innocent aura that seemed to surround the child in black. Dark, feathered wings, sat just as fragile on her back, ruffling in the lightest of breezes. She was a creature who could break from the slightest touch and it almost seemed to make people wary around her, afraid that they would be the ones to hurt this delicate creature. She could hardly be called human for the way she acted bespoke something different entirely. The arms and fingers that pulled on the strings were thin, and she looked under nourished, as though she hadn’t eaten in a long time. Nothing seemed to stir around her as she played. The music that came from the harp was like a whisper that blended with the silence instead of piercing it. Other than her arms nothing on her moved either. She seemed almost fey, as though she would flee when someone came near her. She was delicately dressed and painted up as though she were a porcelain doll and required a great amount of care. She closed her blue eyes and kept playing the harp. The song she played was filled with sadness and mirth, mixing with the black atmosphere that surrounded the young lady. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Sat Mar 22, 2008 1:33 am Post #2 |
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A sad ballad drifted elegantly throughout the silence of the air, bringing its haunting melody to his ears. It was a tone not often heard by his ears, at least not since the earlier years of his life when he had first met his late wife. The memory was not all too pleasant of a thing to think of, so he simply dismissed it with an annoyed grunt. Now was not the time to fall the pieces, especially when he had to keep himself on his toes. After ensuing that contract with Cordelia, and issuing that invitation to that of Fehade, one couldn’t be but too careful. Allured through the sound of the melody, each of his feet would move in swaying succession, his body moving gently in sway with each step to the beat of the song. Emerging through the darkness, the appearance of a lake and woman came swiftly within view. At first glance, the woman seemed something of a normal being that was of course until he grew closer to the woman. It seemed that the closer he got, the more out of place the woman seemed in the midst of what was considered the “norm”. Granted, he had seen his share of some skinny folk, but this woman almost made him want to throw her a steak or something. In a way it kind of made him feel a tinge of sadness, but it was only passing. Faltering in his steps a good distance short of her, his head would tilt off kilter in an odd attempt to absorb her features in a different view. Though, it would seem that it would add nothing more to his original opinion of her appearance. In one swift motion, his form would hop up enough to enable his legs to shift in a crossing manner, before flopping down on his rump in a cross legged style. The jacket adorning his body splayed off to both sides of him, exposing his muscular torso, as he leaned forward. Placing his elbows on each of his knees, he would use them to support his head as he placed his chin upon his hands. Intently his gaze followed each movement of her fingers while she played until she would stop. In which point he would issue a dis-satisfied grunt, before placing both hands off to his sides and thrusting himself back up to his feet in a haphazard manner. A slight frown etched across his face, while a single hand raked itself through his hair to keep it from his face, but the only white section of his dark raven black hair would drift effortlessly back in front of his face. “Oh come now, don’t tell me you’re taken so far off by my beauty that you’ve decided to stop playing such a lovely song, hmmm?” Of course his self-confidence in himself was truly something to behold, it was all in fun. After all, that’s all there was to do nowadays, have fun, enjoy life, and make everyone’s day miserable. Those were his three goals anyway and oh how he loved to accomplish them day after day. Whether or not this woman was so easily cracked by his comments would remain to be seen. On the Brightside, there was NO way she would be like Cordelia. No one could be that self-arrogant, at least he hoped not…If wrong, he would be in for yet another looooooong night of annoying banter and comments. At least until he would get her to shut up like he had Cordelia, but those were only what if’s, nothing was set in stone….Yet… |
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| Unknown | Sat Mar 22, 2008 2:05 am Post #3 |
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She pulled each of the strings back, the sound echoing over the water. Everything about her seemed sad and distant. Her dress hugged her form, hiding the ribs that would have been seen otherwise. Even through her skinny body frame she was very elegant. Every pull of the strings was precise, as though she were completely wrapped within the moment. Her eyes still stared into nothingness, beyond what could be seen. She closed her eyes for a moment as she finished her song. Then someone spoke up and she opened her eyes and settled them on the man. Her dark eyes drank him in for a moment before she spoke as well. Her voice was calm and unsettling, although it was hard to determine why that was so. She had a wild look in her eyes as though she wasn’t all human anymore. “You think it was lovely?” She stared down at the harp and gazed at it for a second. Her voice had no emotion in it and sounded very far away. “I’m sorry but I didn’t even notice you there until I was already done playing. Was that wrong of me?” The girl let go of her harp and stood up, her dress falling about her in a simple movement. She flowed over to the man and stopped in front of him, cocking her head to one side then the other. After a moment she stepped on a rock bringing her eye to eye with the man. She studied him again for a moment then moved closer and leaned in so their noses almost touched. Even her breath was cold. “Are you beautiful? I can’t tell.” |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Sat Mar 22, 2008 2:54 am Post #4 |
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When she spoke, a sudden wave of relief washed over him, at least she wasn’t like Cordelia. The sheer thought of the woman’s voice and response simply made him cringe. Shifting his thoughts again, they skittered back to her the moment she moved towards him and brought her nose mere inches from his. Lifting a brow in question, his eyes simply bore themselves within hers, intent on not moving away from his current position. After a time, his head would cock itself off to the side and to the other side, before returning to a level base. This woman was an odd duck, but those were the best kinds. Unpredictability was a good thing, something that not many really held. When the question of whether he was beautiful or not filtered back within the workings of his mind, a soft laughter took up from within him. “Perhaps you should get those eyes of yours checked, sweetheart. Unless of course I blinded ya.” With that said, a light click would issue from the corner of his mouth and he would issue her a wink, “But in all seriousness, what’s the point in being here…And playing a harp no less, it really doesn’t make much sense. I mean, it’s a lake and on my way over here, I got growled at by some hermit looking dude. Seemed like he had rabies or something.” A brow would lift again at the thought of a hermit with rabies, but he would simply issue a shrug, before turning his attention back to their closeness. Deciding to take her started gestures a little further, his head would lean forward until both of their noses would touch and then lastly their foreheads. At this point both of his eyes began to blur the image of her own from the closeness betwixt the two of them. It really hadn’t bothered him any, since she initiated this little game and like hell if he’d back down now. “So, you play this sort of game with people often…?” |
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| Unknown | Sat Mar 22, 2008 3:10 am Post #5 |
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She watched him through her eyes, moving his head back and forth she merely moved her eyes. When he spoke she blinked at him, the sound almost seemed to shock her and a shiver ran itself over her body, she didn’t move away though, instead she focused on his eyes and gazed into them. “You’re eyes are very odd... perhaps you should check them too.” She stared into his eyes once more. “A very silvery color... and no I’m not blinded... do you have that effect on people? To blind them?” The mention of her harp made her smile a bit, although it looked very unnatural on her features. She looked most normal when she had no expression at all. Something about this man was different for he wasn’t cringing away from her, actually she had met very few people and usually they avoided her or stuttered when they spoke with her, as though they were unnerved. It never bothered her... just made her wonder. “I play my harp a lot. The music sooths me. Why is here such a bad place to play? A what is a ... her..met?” Then he touched her nose against hers as well. She blinked as his form ran into each other. “Game?” She blinked again and her eyes settled into somewhat that resembled a look of someone deep in thought. “I think a game is something that should be fun... I don’t believe this would qualify as a game... I don’t think there are any games here...” She looked back at him and her lips pursed together for a moment before they fell back to their normal inexpressive placement. “How did you die..?” |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Sat Mar 22, 2008 3:51 am Post #6 |
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The more she spoke, the more she sounded like a child who seemed no more than out of place in a world so cruel. She was naïve, that much was a given, but to be that out of the loop almost took him back a bit. Though, it still was a relief to get away from the rush of the cities and the bothersome people of them for a change; even if this woman seemed to be almost clueless to everything and anything around her. When she asked her question, his features would twist into that of temporary perplexity. “Perhaps, it all depends upon how you perceive my abilities. I can be a God or I can be a commoner.” She truly was odd, but it also made him chuckle faintly. At least the night wasn’t going to be boring and who knew; maybe he could teach this woman a thing or two about life. Again she answered his own question with yet another question, causing a brow to lift as his eyes broke off and to the side for a brief instance, “Well, for starters…It’s dark, you’re alone, and then there’s the rabified hermit from earlier. And a hermit is a person who seemingly has no home and lives off the land for sustenance. Make sense?” Slowly his eyes trailed back to hers, where they would remain for the time being. Games…apparently the woman felt she wasn’t which kind of struck him as odd. Most people tried to toy with him and bait him into playing things in their way. Regardlessly, he would shrug it off without much more thought, “So you’re saying that you aren’t having fun with me? That’s not very nice now is it?” A wry grin etched across his lips, but as soon as it had, it would quickly depart without a second’s notice. The next statement that left her mouth caught him off guard and caused his head to part from hers slightly. What did she mean die…? It perplexed him and his face twisted into that of uncertainty as he studied this woman in a different light. Did she see something he couldn’t or didn’t…Perhaps she had? For moments his mind hammered away at all the possibilities that could bring itself to his mind, before allowing a few words to brush past his slender lips, “What do you mean die…? As far as I can see, I’m alive and kicking deary…” Just to make sure she understood his statement, he would lift his arms off to his sides as if to present himself to her. “As I said before, perhaps you should get those pretty little eyes of yours checked. What is breathing cannot be dead…” Within his head, the thoughts were still hammering away as to what would possess the woman to say such a thing, especially without much of a pause or delay. But on the exterior, an arrogant and smug smirk crossed his countenance, belying the fact of his bewilderment by her statement. Because in a way she was right…In a way he was dead and in that way, he was segregated from the rest of this mortal race…. |
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| Unknown | Sat Mar 22, 2008 4:08 am Post #7 |
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She giggled a little when he spoke of the hermit. “Yes it makes sense.” She still hadn’t moved away from him, and her laugh seemed almost childlike. It suit her in a way, the empty hollow child’s laugh on this fragile thing. She stopped and stared at him again. “I don’t understand why someone would do that though. I suppose it’s their own punishment for what they did.” She nodded her head quick as though she had just explained something to herself and made it a fact with that nod. She blinked at him. “Are you having fun?” It seemed very odd that he considered this thing “fun”. She didn’t seem to see the point to something being fun. “I suppose it isn’t nice. Should I just say I’m having fun? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She seemed very genuine in a way, although the emptiness behind every word she spoke seemed to take away from what they would mean if someone with emotion spoke them. Then he pulled away from her and she stared at him curiously. “Alive? Oh no, I assure you, you’re very dead. I guess you forgot how you died. It’s sad isn’t it? I forgot how I died too.” She gave him a sad smile. She reached out a hand to his face and placed it against his cheek staring into his eyes. She stood that way for a long moment and just regarded him sadly. “You poor dear.” A look of pity entered her eyes as she gazed at him. She pushed her hand harder into his cheek. “You are warm. And you are breathing.” She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down before she dropped her hand. “It doesn’t mean you’re alive. You can die and come here and still believe you’re alive.” She gazed around her. “It is dark isn’t it?” |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Sat Mar 22, 2008 4:51 am Post #8 |
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Such a curious woman she was, nothing she said made sense, but then again he supposed that he wasn’t much better. Countless times he had been told that, and even the chaos that was his mind didn’t really make any sense either. Settling his arms back at his side, a soft laughter flittered through his lips, “Oh, I’m having fun, I always have fun. But if you aren’t, there’s no need to lie to yourself or to me for that matter.” His voice was light hearted and carefree, carrying an eloquent tone to it all the while he spoke. All expression wiped itself from his countenance at the break of her next couple of statements. On top of that, she placed a hand to his cheek as if verifying that he was in fact warm. While that didn’t bother him, the comments she had made were enough to bug him. Lifting a free hand, each of the digits would curl in towards the palm, all with the exception of the index finger. Taking his index finger, he would place it to her forward and proceed to push her head back slightly, “Ut tut, Mrs. ILikeToTouchPeople, who said ANYTHING about me dying? The last time my time card was punched in, it was when I was born and as far as I’m aware, it’s never been punched out. So don’t give me any of that cockamamie explanation about me dying.” The expression on his face was blank and stone like in nature. Who the hell was this woman anyway, not only was she off her rocker, but she blew the damned thing up as well. Nothing she said made sense to him, especially when she started talking about death and dying. “Besides, if this is the place you would go when you die, then they really need to start redecorating. A few women other than you would be nice as well, but as I said before I am not dead. If I was dead, I would be aware of it, I’m sure of it. Now you on the other, you may just as well be dead. Why you would believe that or why that is, I have no clue and I really don’t care, frankly….But I am curious to know why you believe that I am dead, hmmm?” While he was sure that he would get no valid answer to question, considering the last couple of questions he asked her. They all ended up in short responses that didn’t really answer him, and always ended up in another question directed back to him. |
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| Unknown | Sat Mar 22, 2008 5:13 am Post #9 |
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She found her head being pushed back with one of his fingers and she cocked her head to the side before she jumped down of the rock. She stood and stared out at the water for a moment instead and then to her harp. She considered moving away from the man to go play it again... but he had asked her a question and it would be rude if she were to leave now. No she would stay and talk to him. He actually talked to her. But it made her a bit restless since she wasn’t used to talking to one person for a long time, not much past the part where she told people they had died. They didn’t seem to like that very much. He was actually arguing with her, which meant he didn’t like it either but at least he was staying. “Punched in? I don’t get it.” She blinked at him as the words might have well fell on deaf ears. The way she understood things seemed to give away her age. Although she was fourteen she could have easily been younger just by the way she spoke and acted. No matter though, it never really changed anything about the way she responded. “Hell isn’t supposed to look pretty.” She reached down and picked up some dirt and sifted it through her hands. “It wouldn’t be much of a torture if it was fun to look at. Besides you wouldn’t really believe you were dead. Only a few people figure it out...” She gazed into his eyes again. “I believe you’re dead ‘cause you are. I mean if we’re in hell,” She spread her arms out wide. “And you’re here with me, and I’m dead, so you... are dead too.” She shrugged and dropped her arms back to her side. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Wed Mar 26, 2008 4:15 am Post #10 |
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She really WAS naïve, so much so that it nearly stunned him. How could someone be so clueless yet act like they knew what they were talking about…? The more he thought on it, the more memories of what others said about him began to surface. A soft laughter passed his slightly parted lips, “By the time I even teach you one thing I’ll already be gray in the head. Given that’s not really a possibility, I would still be able to accomplish that, before you learned about life my dear child.” His voice was subtle in its tone, while each word flowed eloquently from his lips. There was a part of him that had bet she would not even catch onto his meanings of her learning and the likes. It would really make little difference, seeing as she simply continued on with her belief that the two of them were dead. Alright, now this was beginning to get a little sickening….In a dark tone his voice picked up just enough so she could hear him, “If you want hell…I can send you there.” Without skipping a beat, his right hand would slip into the confines of his jacket, only to pull out a small card with a sword printed on one of its sides. Issuing a quick flick of the wrist, the card would dematerialize and spread out from his hand to take on a shimmering and glowing resemblance of a sword. In a mere moment, the shimmering light would contract and constrict into that of a long metallic blade with an intricate hilt that would lie just within his grasp. Bringing the blade out in a slow methodical movement, the tip would pause just at the woman’s nose, “You believe your dead, then let’s test the theory. You should have nothing to worry about; the dead cannot feel when their bodies have passed and moved on into the after life.” He allowed those words to stew in her head for the time being, before speaking again, “Soooo, what’s going to be toots, you going to still blather on about this being hell and the both of us being dead, or are you going to put it to rest for another day?” |
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| Unknown | Wed Mar 26, 2008 4:38 am Post #11 |
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“If you want hell…I can send you there.” Her eyes barely flickered as the blade pressed against her skin. She coolly stared into his eyes, trying to study what lay beneath their sliver exterior. It proved fruitless, but then again she had never been able to read people, had never truly connected with people. He seemed like one of the few to stay and talk to her, threaten her even. She moved her eyes around her and wondered how this man could possibly believe they were still alive. Did he not see the decay? The betrayal? The ruin? Hell screamed at her from all angles and it made her want to sink to her knees and scream. Instead she shook her head slowly. “Hell is about elevation of pain, not be ridding of it altogether.” The thought that he would go through with his plan was a very real possibility. He was obviously upset at being called dead. It was a given. Most people did not want to admit to the fact their lives were over and that they were living in this mock reality meant to feel every emotion as torture. She stared into his eyes and backed away from his sword. She took one finger and ran it along the blade’s edge, slicing through skin. Red liquid bubbled up from the thin tear and pooled on top on her fingertip. She cocked her head and watched the blood bubble up. “I feel pain. I feel the blood rising from my body and pooling on my skin. I feel every touch, every pain, every feeling, and I am not alive. So don’t try and tell me I am.” She looked up at him and tears pooled in her eyes. The salty liquid ran down her cheeks and she let the droplets fall to the ground. Then her emotions faded and she returned to normal. Blinking as though nothing had happened and she had just come back from somewhere far, far away. She looked down at her finger and blinked once, twice, then moved her gaze to Manic. “Why am I bleeding?” She blinked once more and cocked her head to the side. “You say I’m not dead...but... why?” |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Wed Mar 26, 2008 8:30 pm Post #12 |
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Again she didn’t seem to listen to a single word that he said which left him wondering if he should go on with what he was even trying to explain to her. It was a waste of his time, truly…But then again, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do for the time being. And then she spoke further on the matter at hand, which brought his attention to a whole new level. Settling his eyes back down upon the tip of the blade, they would watch curiously while the woman ran her finger across the blade, applying enough pressure to pierce the tender flesh of her digit. A wry grin etched itself way across his face when the first signs of blood escaped the open wound, signaling a sense of uncertainty to her beliefs. “Pain is elevated in hell, but that pain pertains to physical and mental…Granted.” The sword would flick off to the side, holding itself off in an upward slant on his flank, “That’s everything you just said, but the physical pain is what you feel only. You don’t bleed for in death you are both alive and dead. You’re dead in the sense that you can no longer fall to simple human mortality. But you’re alive in the sense you can feel and experience everything just as you had while in the living realm.” Now dropping the blade back to his side, each of his digits would uncurl to relinquish the blade to fall to the earth bellow, where it would plunge a mere couple of inches into the soft earthen ground. Pushing forward from his current stance, his eyes would drift to hers only to settle themselves while he approached. Once within a couple inches of the girl, a hand would move out to take up hers, bringing the bloodied finger up in front of him. “You’re not dead, because you bleed just as I or anyone else would. On top of that, if you were in fact dead, you would be experiencing torture and endless waves of malevolence acted upon you by your own personal torturer. Now, seeing as there is no one here, but us, I would assume that to be false. Unless of course, I was your torturer…But since I’m not, you’re safe. I’d be the last person you would want to have torture you.” With that said, he would release her hand with a wink, before turning on the balls of his heels to move back to his blade. Upon nearing it, his left hand would move out to lightly drag his fingertips around the hilt of the blade, as he moved around in a circle around it, so he once again faced her. Curling each of his digits around the hilt, he would pluck it from the earth and swing it up in a diagonal fashion in front the upper portion of his chest. In unbroken succession his right would lift to a parallel position to the ground, before taking the blade and placing it just upon the side of his forearm. In a long and slow drawn out motion, the blade would begin to drag downwards, running its edge across his flesh only to split it open and release the red crimson fluid beneath, which would drip slowly forth and to the ground to taint it. Once the blade reached far enough into his flesh to draw blood, it would lift and drop back to his side, while his other arm would remain, the flow of blood continuing. “If I were truly dead, I wouldn’t be able to bleed either. Now if that doesn’t make sense to you or if it doesn’t explain why you aren’t dead, then you seriously need to get that head of yours checked." |
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| Unknown | Wed Mar 26, 2008 9:28 pm Post #13 |
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He dropped her hand, the warmth of his touch receding from her skin in seconds at a time. “How do you know I’m not my torturer? ” She tilted her head to the side once again but something in her eyes said she had dropped the subject of being dead. She still believed it. It was something that had gone so deep into her mind that it pounded at her every time she drew breath. It was underlying every thought she possessed and she had surrendered herself completely to the idea. She didn’t see a point to making this man believe the truth. “I’m “safe”?” She looked up at him quizzically, and in her eyes it was obvious that she had no meaning to put with the word. He then did something she had never expected, but she watched with interested as he drew his own blood from his arm. She reached out a hand, no hesitance behind the motion that was so simple and yet so personal, and she ran her fingers through his blood. The girl brought it up in front of her face and stared at it. After a moment or two she zoned back in and blinked a few times, as though she were just seeing the world around her. She wasn’t sure how long the silence had stretched between them, or if the man even cared. He had put up with her this long and a few more of her quirks might see him on his way, or just more interested. Either way it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like she had any real social skills and her quirks were better shown up front than later on. “So if I bleed, and if you bleed, were both alive?” She considered it for a moment but didn’t buy the explanation for a second. He didn’t need to know that. “I suppose it makes sense...” She reached out and touched his warm crimson once more, breathing in the coopery scent of him. She closed her eyes and turned to gaze out over the dark waters for a second. She turned back to the man and looked into his silvery eyes. “Who are you?” She moved closer to him as she had done the first moment they had met. She didn’t find the closeness awkward or even something that would be discouraged in the social norm. She gazed at his face and drank in his features with distant eyes. “If you are not dead, not my torturer, but you are...” She struggled to remember the word for a moment, “beautiful, then what does that make you?” She blinked at him. A sound perked her ears and she turned around to face out at the water’s. They were still as glass and she attempted what most would call “a joke”. “Perhaps that was my torturer.” Without emotion it made it hard to tell what she was trying to accomplish. However she dismissed the sound as nothing. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Thu Mar 27, 2008 12:38 am Post #14 |
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Deciding to humor her idea of death, his eyes would study her every emotion, every sentence, and every action carefully. From the get-go he knew she wasn’t a normal being, but the more she talked and the more she acted brought a different light on everything. Especially when she began to touch his bloodied wound and study the blood as if it were something foreign to her. The words that would follow would bring about a quirked brow in response, more so when she mentioned the lake being her torturer. After a time, his head would tilt itself off to the side curiously. The lake was her torturer…There was no way she could be serious. The thought made him chuckle faintly, but his face would once again turn stoic in its nature. “That makes me Manic Deathstorm, the King of King’s and…Some other random mumbo jumbo. I’ve been called so many names, it’s not even funny.” Issuing a faint shrug, his eyes would then drift from her and then over the waters, “It’s quite possible you are your own torturer. And maybe the reason you think you’re dead lies in your spirit.” When the last word escaped his lips, his eyes would shift back to hers, “There are people who don’t really have a spirit to them. So in a sense they think they’re dead, feel dead, and hold no emotions. Perhaps, you are one of those people, absent of life within their body.” Again his shoulders shrugged and his focus would again shift from her and down to the blade in his hand. In a sheer instance of a thought the sword would begin to dematerialize into thousands of brilliant glimmers of light, only to gather and compact themselves into the form a card, which he would carefully tuck back into his jacket. Once settled, his metallic hues would return to hers, “So, I suppose the question now falls upon you. Who and what are you exactly…? And yes yes…..I already know you believe your dead, so if we can skip that whole thing again, it would be grand…” He really didn’t care to listen to this whole; I’m dead and your dead sort of thing over again. But if it came down to it again, then he figured there would be no choice BUT to listen. |
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| Unknown | Thu Mar 27, 2008 12:57 am Post #15 |
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“King Manic Deathstorm,” She rolled the name around her mouth to get a feel for it. For some reason when he spoke she didn’t want to talk to him about death, or anything else for that matter. She wanted him to be quiet, because she knew that he didn’t believe her. In an odd way that flicker of a thought was the closest she would ever come to being angry, just wishing a voice would fade away. “Yes I suppose I am missing a spirit.” Aren’t all the dead without a spirit? She just thought it, knowing somewhere, maybe it was instinct, but she just knew that he wouldn’t like her saying it out loud. If she did have a spirit she couldn’t feel or sense it. Could he sense his? His sword caught her eye and distracted her mind from the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She welcomed the new experience. She watched the sword change back into a card, and she tilted her head as Manic tucked it away in his jacket. “How did you do that?” She wanted to reach out and touch the card to see it for herself, but it had already returned to its resting place and she wouldn’t go fishing through his jacket just for a card. “Alright...” She pondered his question for a moment. Who? What? Did she even know that herself. She tried to remember and suddenly a sharp pain entered her mind. Her head ached and she body felt like pins were being pushed into her skin. Sharp throbbing pain occupied her head and she clasped both her hands over her ears and sunk to her knees sobbing in pain for a moment or two. “I DON’T KNOW!! I don’t know!! Please, please. I won’t try to remember. Please ... stop.” Her voice had trailed off into a whisper and she whimpered on the ground for a moment as the pain subsided. She got to her knee, hands planted flat on the ground. Her wings wrapped around her as best they could, acting as her only protection. Her head drooped, hair hung around her face. “I don’t have a name...” It was all she could manage to tell Manic about herself. |
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4:39 PM May 23
