09-03-2016, 01:44 PM
Her face. Frozen. Mid-scream.
But this time her jaw was free, and her chords ascended freely, carrying over the hollow room and beyond. Heads spun across the canvas world, to see a woman clutching desperately at her neck as she collapsed to the ground. Behind her, the fountain, once marble, hovered over her like a black looming shadow. Jagged teeth sprouted from its strange angles and the blonde's fingers clawed at the contrastingly pearl ground which would not give way. Her forehead brushed the smooth floor, she had bowed down as though praying, but in any world where her sister could be taken for "entertainment" and approved by God was no world she would accept, and no "God" she would ever declare loyalty to. Her sister had already been taken from her once, now, what would happen next?
She would rise.
It was as simple as that. And the mocking callous laughter of Karl echoed in her ears, behind her eyelids she was flooded with the crescent smile of the eyeless being who always watched. His purpose meant nothing to her, neither of them. She would rise, if only to spit on their graves. If only, to prove them wrong.
Christa felt the sensation of air caress her esophagus and happily accepted the breath as it washed out the lingering taste of iron on her tongue, "Ugh," the weary prime muttered as her shoulders straightened and her bent leg dug into the ground, forcing herself upward with an unstable lurch. A hand met the base of her back as her weary eyes gazed outward. The pain in her neck, striking once, had left. Lightning speed of a quick death had struck her once again. She shuddered and flexed her stiff digits. Once they had been smothered in fresh and dried blood, now, they lacked any smut caked on, her pale skin was here once more, ready to write the moments again, and ready, always, to draw fresh blood. Christa wavered and used the black fountain for support as she checked to see if her toes were still there. Then the familiarly empty room.
"Miss, miss, are you alright?" A voice flittered in her ear.
"You took quite a fall there," another voice echoed.
"Can I get you a glass of water?" a man asked.
"Do you need any medical attention?" a final, superior voice offered.
Christa drew back her lips, ready to snarl for space when she saw two storm trooper helmets inches from her face. She could've even screamed again, or pulled out her knife and sliced every chink in their armor. Then she remembered her place. And theirs.
"No. No, I'm all set, thank you," mere words. All of them. What drove theirs? Ambition? False kindness to compensate for the torture they had caused another the prior weekend? Her own. What for? They fell from her open jaws, disgusting her, the prime flinched even as she spoke them.
What she was last doing was a bit hazy, but she had the distinctive desire lit in her to set the world aflame. And Katia, oh, her sister's kind and lovely face. There would be Hell to pay, and so much fucking more.
But this time her jaw was free, and her chords ascended freely, carrying over the hollow room and beyond. Heads spun across the canvas world, to see a woman clutching desperately at her neck as she collapsed to the ground. Behind her, the fountain, once marble, hovered over her like a black looming shadow. Jagged teeth sprouted from its strange angles and the blonde's fingers clawed at the contrastingly pearl ground which would not give way. Her forehead brushed the smooth floor, she had bowed down as though praying, but in any world where her sister could be taken for "entertainment" and approved by God was no world she would accept, and no "God" she would ever declare loyalty to. Her sister had already been taken from her once, now, what would happen next?
She would rise.
It was as simple as that. And the mocking callous laughter of Karl echoed in her ears, behind her eyelids she was flooded with the crescent smile of the eyeless being who always watched. His purpose meant nothing to her, neither of them. She would rise, if only to spit on their graves. If only, to prove them wrong.
Christa felt the sensation of air caress her esophagus and happily accepted the breath as it washed out the lingering taste of iron on her tongue, "Ugh," the weary prime muttered as her shoulders straightened and her bent leg dug into the ground, forcing herself upward with an unstable lurch. A hand met the base of her back as her weary eyes gazed outward. The pain in her neck, striking once, had left. Lightning speed of a quick death had struck her once again. She shuddered and flexed her stiff digits. Once they had been smothered in fresh and dried blood, now, they lacked any smut caked on, her pale skin was here once more, ready to write the moments again, and ready, always, to draw fresh blood. Christa wavered and used the black fountain for support as she checked to see if her toes were still there. Then the familiarly empty room.
"Miss, miss, are you alright?" A voice flittered in her ear.
"You took quite a fall there," another voice echoed.
"Can I get you a glass of water?" a man asked.
"Do you need any medical attention?" a final, superior voice offered.
Christa drew back her lips, ready to snarl for space when she saw two storm trooper helmets inches from her face. She could've even screamed again, or pulled out her knife and sliced every chink in their armor. Then she remembered her place. And theirs.
"No. No, I'm all set, thank you," mere words. All of them. What drove theirs? Ambition? False kindness to compensate for the torture they had caused another the prior weekend? Her own. What for? They fell from her open jaws, disgusting her, the prime flinched even as she spoke them.
What she was last doing was a bit hazy, but she had the distinctive desire lit in her to set the world aflame. And Katia, oh, her sister's kind and lovely face. There would be Hell to pay, and so much fucking more.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus