mae himaa-wyrmsong (
litbydark) wrote in
sunset_horizons2013-11-09 02:29 am
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2 ☬ The wild rose hath scattered...
Who: Badra Samar and Allumette Honeycutt
Where: The Church of Saint Adama Landama
Warnings: Post-Titan spoilers
[ the journey from vesper bay had been silent, slipping through the aetheric flow to arrive from one place that reeked of the stench of death to another. only this place... was not the one that held those of her companions. that was alright; she could handle that for a while. yet as she materialized and began walking toward the tunnel ramp that would lead her out of the camp, she couldn't help but hear the sobbing that permeated the air around her.
she could not help but find how fitting a location minfilia asked for them to seek shelter; amongst the dead and mourning.
the adventurer silently walked, throwing a cowl over her still blood-caked garments, exiting and walking ever faster toward the building outside camp beyond the many grave markers. maybe it hit completely as she walked amongst the dead and long-since buried, just which emotions she was trying to swallow and now let show. or, maybe it was the priest's concerned gaze and compassion when he saw the evidence of tears she hadn't known were falling down her cheeks.
the wild rose has scattered, and i know not what to do...
what she knew was that night had fallen by the time she had been sitting on a pew bench, silent tears still falling. she knew the fate of those not found in pools of blood - likely taken captive and treated like savage beasts - but what of her brothers and sisters who stood with her against the lord of crags?
it's almost funny... hadn't she run from her homeland so that she would not be simply staying in a cave, waiting to hear of her brothers' and sisters' deaths? ]
Where: The Church of Saint Adama Landama
Warnings: Post-Titan spoilers
[ the journey from vesper bay had been silent, slipping through the aetheric flow to arrive from one place that reeked of the stench of death to another. only this place... was not the one that held those of her companions. that was alright; she could handle that for a while. yet as she materialized and began walking toward the tunnel ramp that would lead her out of the camp, she couldn't help but hear the sobbing that permeated the air around her.
she could not help but find how fitting a location minfilia asked for them to seek shelter; amongst the dead and mourning.
the adventurer silently walked, throwing a cowl over her still blood-caked garments, exiting and walking ever faster toward the building outside camp beyond the many grave markers. maybe it hit completely as she walked amongst the dead and long-since buried, just which emotions she was trying to swallow and now let show. or, maybe it was the priest's concerned gaze and compassion when he saw the evidence of tears she hadn't known were falling down her cheeks.
the wild rose has scattered, and i know not what to do...
what she knew was that night had fallen by the time she had been sitting on a pew bench, silent tears still falling. she knew the fate of those not found in pools of blood - likely taken captive and treated like savage beasts - but what of her brothers and sisters who stood with her against the lord of crags?
it's almost funny... hadn't she run from her homeland so that she would not be simply staying in a cave, waiting to hear of her brothers' and sisters' deaths? ]
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perhaps he could feel her distraught state, but he jerked and weaved through monsters precariously, to the point where she wanted to yank on the reins but couldn't--not with shards of glass still in her little hands. she grimaces, wishing she'd remembered to put on her gloves after holding noraxia--the memory bubbled up in her mind and she tried to force stinging tears away.
he ended up bucking her straight onto the stairs of the church, and she cursed hoarsely at him, getting to her feet and wincing as she did so. every shard was lodging deeper into her skin. once she could sit down she'd change to conjurer and heal herself, but for the moment, she just hurried inside, pulling down her baby-blanket shawl and looking around--
spotting badra, with wide, red-rimmed eyes. ]
It's--it's you? Not the desert sun?
[ she stumbles, clad in dust and mud and blood dripping down from gauntlet-less hands, a pigtail undone. ]
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