07-12-2021, 02:02 AM
![[Image: 0c42c39363c66458eb8da0616203d2f3.jpg]](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0c/42/c3/0c42c39363c66458eb8da0616203d2f3.jpg)
In the depths of the Shadowed Savanna, a woman crouches desperately at a fading Oasis. A burnt, scarred and shaking hand feverishly scooping the muddied water to her mouth, drinking handful after handful as if dying of thirst. Her skin is a sickly pale, and where not covered by decades of battle scars or her salt and pepper hair, faint wrinkles born of stress and time pull at her features.
After a long minute of fruitlessly chasing the burning in her throat down with water, the woman forces herself to a stop. Trying to suck down lost air to her laboring lungs.
The haggard old woman, deep in the desert, feels her mind wander as she takes the moment. Her mind grazing across the aching, burning feeling of nothing that’s raced through her body for weeks now, and more importantly to the distant childhood memories that have faded to nothing but blues of colors and scraps of words.
A faint, pained chuckle croaks out of her mouth. One of those trembling hands reaching behind her, to gently grasp the limb of the elegant bow on her back.
She gently pulls the bow free of the straps that keep it secured. Falling from her crouch to a more laid back position, as she brings the weapon into her lap.
Those calloused, trembling hands carefully trace out every scratch and ding in the dulled, worn bow. Fuzzy, warm memories of the very spars that caused each flickering through her mind.
The woman clutches the bow, slowly forcing herself to her feet. A fond, warm smile playing out on her face, in spite of the pain echoing through her trembling flesh, and the nothingness scratching at the depths of her mind. A little bastion, a little strength, given by the item she carefully strings.
”T̷̞̿̒̌ĥ̵̥̺e̶̻͔͔̚ ̶̱̺͛̚Į̴̀r̴̼̦̀ȏ̶̰̀͝n̶͚̆ͅͅ ̵̯̼͗̓͜T̷̺̟̞͝h̷̖͐̉r̷̨͈̓͘ơ̶̦̑̋ņ̷̂̕e̶̡̮͚̓̂ ̸͇̰͌̐w̷̨̼̆ͅá̸͍̿͗ȋ̵̮̹̄͝ṭ̷̈́̄͗s̴̛̼̈́͗.̵̻̻͇̒“
After a long minute of fruitlessly chasing the burning in her throat down with water, the woman forces herself to a stop. Trying to suck down lost air to her laboring lungs.
The haggard old woman, deep in the desert, feels her mind wander as she takes the moment. Her mind grazing across the aching, burning feeling of nothing that’s raced through her body for weeks now, and more importantly to the distant childhood memories that have faded to nothing but blues of colors and scraps of words.
A faint, pained chuckle croaks out of her mouth. One of those trembling hands reaching behind her, to gently grasp the limb of the elegant bow on her back.
Quote:”...I look pathetic right now, don’ I My Love?” A somber, quiet voice mumbles out. “You’d throttle me on the spot, I’d bet.”
She gently pulls the bow free of the straps that keep it secured. Falling from her crouch to a more laid back position, as she brings the weapon into her lap.
Quote:”I really don’t know what tah do with myself without ya around. You were...a large part of the reason I could keep moving forward like I did. How I had so much determination...now look at me. The Triumvirate’s High Priestess, actin’ like an animal. All because she’s scared to start forgetting...”
Those calloused, trembling hands carefully trace out every scratch and ding in the dulled, worn bow. Fuzzy, warm memories of the very spars that caused each flickering through her mind.
Quote:”I’ve always been proud of it, you know? I never really speak of it...but I know I’m the weakest fighter still, I know I’m no great craftswoman. But...I always consoled myself that, at least I could carry with me the stories of the fallen. Every...tragedy and death held more purpose, if I could speak their name to another. And now I grow afraid that I’ll forget my own soon enough...that I’ll forget yours, Arden.”
”It almost feels like divine punishment, this little Hel of mine. My source of pride withering away, those I love vanishing one after another as I watch, only for their faces to start to blur. And my very efforts to halt it turning tah ash in my mouth.”
The woman clutches the bow, slowly forcing herself to her feet. A fond, warm smile playing out on her face, in spite of the pain echoing through her trembling flesh, and the nothingness scratching at the depths of her mind. A little bastion, a little strength, given by the item she carefully strings.
Quote:”I know wha’ I should do, though. It’ll be hard, Love. To step away from somethin’ so tempting, so thrilling for these old bones. But...I know deep in my heart that it isn’t right for me...” Her soft, jovial tone fades off, as her senses pick back up on the faint trail she’d been following. The soft crunch of sand beneath her boots replacing the sounds from her for a moment “...But my path hasn’t strayed, not yet. Nor shall it. I’ll make you smile from those stars, sweet little fox.”
Slowly the love fades, the sands marred by the faint drip of black ichor, and the air around her becomes choked with a thick pall of blood, and cold...empty light. A voice embroiled with rage echoing from every single mote of light, a thousand different tones in a million different voices. All fractured into one, a quiet, screaming whisper.
”T̷̞̿̒̌ĥ̵̥̺e̶̻͔͔̚ ̶̱̺͛̚Į̴̀r̴̼̦̀ȏ̶̰̀͝n̶͚̆ͅͅ ̵̯̼͗̓͜T̷̺̟̞͝h̷̖͐̉r̷̨͈̓͘ơ̶̦̑̋ņ̷̂̕e̶̡̮͚̓̂ ̸͇̰͌̐w̷̨̼̆ͅá̸͍̿͗ȋ̵̮̹̄͝ṭ̷̈́̄͗s̴̛̼̈́͗.̵̻̻͇̒“