these scripted dreams . / castor, tamron day 8
Apr 29, 2017 12:49:40 GMT -5
Post by Python on Apr 29, 2017 12:49:40 GMT -5
castor karmichael --
The poison did not shield her from the gruesome sight; blood spouting from Elettra’s head like a bursting balloon. It was bright red, inked with specks of orange that blinded her as badly as yesterday’s sunset, and it stained the torn black coat fit snugly against her frame.
I forgive you, Elettra.
Her vision tunneled. She was doused in twin’s blood, a mixture of her own and Elettra’s. She knew the person she had to be was spelled out in instinct – the guardian. But fate confirmed that she was destined to fail in that respect. She could protect nothing, she could guard nobody, and she would die alone, blood leaking from every crevice in her body. The cannon confirmed her demise, as did the corpse. She had nothing to say but a gasp. Salome was perhaps the crazy one here, having lost her sanity to death, dancing, and drugs.
Castor crawled away, sword melting between her fingertips. There was a trail of blood and wax in her wake but she didn’t care. She had to turn away from the horrors again, just like always. A cycle of death and suffering.
Bundles of crayons spilled into her arms. She took them one by one, sketching through blurred vision and a thousand colors to collect all of the supplies she thought she needed. Her bones quivered, but she managed to sew her wounds shut and bandage them tightly. Her sore feet had armored boots to cover the discomfort, and she had a sword to protect herself in the next inevitable battle. What are you living for? She collapsed into the soil of the gardens, twisting vines and writhing snakes straightening themselves out. The world was becoming coherent again at the worst of times.
She was living for Jano and his memories, but she was losing even that willpower. Her body felt prepared to submit itself.
Don’t live for anything – just live.
Existence felt empty without a purpose. As she closed her eye, she promised herself that it would be okay to die. If someone gutted her in these gardens as she slept, she could accept it. No such fortunate took place. Instead, she woke up flat on her back with stars and whales glowing above her eye. She could see half of the world and this part was beautiful, but it all crashed and burned when the anthem played. Elettra’s face stared down at her; an innocent soul lost. Riordan was there too.
Love was dead.
She stirred in and out of slumber, shifting from aching wounds and leaky bandages. Morning led her to the white plains of salt mounds and warm puddles. This time she didn’t feel the fluid swishing around her ankles. Her boots protected her, and offered a small amount of comfort in this mess. She dragged her sword behind her. How many were left? She didn’t know. There could be twenty, there could be eight, there could be two.
She didn’t care.
A hulking shadow approached from the distance. The horizon was a breathtaking backdrop behind his silhouette – perhaps one last vision to cherish before she found darkness. She lifted her sword, grip firm and determined despite her mental state. She knew she could kill – she felt that in her blood. Her soul was angry. She had lost too much in seventeen years, and life offered no solace.
When she could see his face – unfamiliar – she hoisted the blade up. Strong enough for two hands to wield.
”Kill me if you can.”[ table by rave]
[attacks Tamron - sword]
cRufoReqsword
Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage
swordcRufoReqsword
Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage