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Baby Steps

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Little Miss Zynnful
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

Joined: 17 Sep 2013
Posts: 128
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Jobs: Apprentice Apothecary, Gardener
Can Be Found: In her greenhouse.
1997.22 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Sat Mar 04, 2017 11:17 am    Post subject: Baby Steps Reply with quote

The alleyways was quiet, almost eerily so. Nothing stirred, the wind was still, not even the rats seemed to scamper here. Litter and trash strewn across the cobbles laid where it was, mixing and mingling with the disgusting layer of grime that always seemed to cover the alleyways of Rhy’din. The warlock found herself at the mouth of the alley, the short cut that her and her mother had taken last Father’s day, hoping to cut time, and not be late to dinner with Rinn and Terry. Instead both of them found their death, lurking in the seemingly harmless man that had passed.

Irrational fear kept her from moving forward. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to be here, so why was she? She avoided this area like the plague normally, because it was too much to deal with, too painful. The memory of stumbling around blindly, fingers slick with so much of her own blood, while she tried to locate her mother by her dying gasps, came unbidden. Tears welled, before a sob broke free. It had been too much. Blindsided, thanks to thinking they were safe. She had let her guard down, and because of that, she had failed. Failed in protecting her mother, herself, failed in the pain she had brought to everyone else that had stayed behind.

Suddenly there was a shove from behind that sent her tumbling forward, landing in a sprawl of limbs and unhappy noises. She rolled, and moved to get back to her feet, while cat’s eyes searched frantically, looking for the source of the shove. There was no one there. Confusion bloomed across her features, tugged her brows down in a frown as she rose to her feet, and  straightened. When she turned back around to look at the rest of the alley, there was a limp form lying on the ground, thin, with wavy dark hair, and she was certain that if she could see those eyes, that they would be green. Blood pooled beneath her, but the woman laid still, there was no rise and fall of her chest, no sign of life. She was dead.

“No. Nononoooo.” The words were moaned, before she stepped forward in stumbling hurried steps to the woman’s side. She dropped to her knees, not caring about the still warm blood that angrily stained her clothes, and clung to her skin.

From out of nowhere, laughter echoed through the alleyway, bouncing off walls, creating a cacophony that rang in her ears. Soon enough there was a figure that stepped from the shadows, with luminous yellow eyes that were fixed on her. The form Beleth had taken that fateful and horrid father’s day.  The smirk that curled across his lips was cruel, the glint in his eyes even crueler. Unsettled the warlock scrambled back to her feet and turned to face him.

“Oh, yes little witch. She’s dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it. There was never anything that you could do about this, or stopping it. It was always going to come down to this, you being motherless and alone, losing the people you care about the most. I took them both from you, little witch, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. I took them, but ultimately both of their deaths are on your shoulders.”


“Yes.” The demon stalked his way closer to her, before he jabbed a finger into her chest with enough force to push her back a step. “Boil it down. In the beginning, Imogen and Terry came after me to do what? Protect you and Merrideth. But the man wouldn’t have pushed so damn hard had you not been in the picture. Imogen would not have so readily agreed, had a child not been in danger, the bleeding heart she was. It was all because of you that it even happened. You are why Terry ended up possessed, why most of his life had been robbed from him. You are why Imogen died that night in the alley of New York. You are why poor Merrideth lived a life of fear and terror that continued even after she got away from me. You. You are why you listened to her dying gasps in this exact alleyway.“

“I was just a child. I didn’t- I couldn’t-” The warlock struggled with her words, unbidden tears poured down her cheeks. She was helpless against his words. They echoed the dark thoughts that hummed in the back of her subconsciousness, pounded them into her brain and left her with no counter argument.

“You are at fault, the root of the problem.” He stepped closer, pressed his hand to her chest, and leaned in close enough for the stench of death and decay to be near overwhelming. “You. You will never forget that it is all because of you. All your pain and suffering had been yours, and you can not escape that.” There’s a malicious glee that spreads across his face. “The best part of it all? You didn’t even get the pleasure of destroying me, of defeating me for once and all. That little bit of revenge that makes all of your suffering hurt just a little less.”

Her features twisted into something angry as he spoke. They grew angrier and angrier before finally…. “Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP.” The last was shouted with a growl before she pressed her own hands against his chest and gave a savage push. He stumbled, but kept his footing, a grin tugged at his features.

“Get as mad as you want. It still will not change a damned thing, little witch. You are alone. Your brother won’t admit it, but he harbors bitter feelings towards you. How couldn’t he? It’s because of you that he was possessed, because of you that his heart was damaged, and he almost died.”

“Stop.” The word was almost whimpered. Everything she had beat herself up over, everything was being thrown up in her face, and she just wanted it to stop. That’s all she wanted. Without warning, she took another step forward.

“It is your fault that he no longer has a mother, that he had to mourn her loss, along with yours. If only you had been stronger. Faster. More observant. If only you haven’t been so stupid or careless. If only you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your damned self.”

“STOP IT.” The word was roared, before she lunged forward. His hands caught her, and he smirked, even as she lashed out, beat her fists against his chest in frustration, and shouted over and over for him to stop, to leave her be to no avail. He let her pound and hit and scream until finally, she collapsed to the ground in a heap, what ever drive to fight gone and replaced instead with great heaving sobs.

Then…. Then he was gone, and she was alone, just has he said she was…. At least for a few moments. Without warning there was another sound, this one low, keening, filled with sorrow that echoed the alleyway. When she finally managed to pull herself together enough to look up, Gothrak’s hulking form was kneeling before her. His glamour was gone, leaving spiraling horns that curled from his forehead, red skin, red eyes, wings that slumped with his sorrow. Trails of red rolled down his cheeks, dribbled from his chin.

“G-Gothrak.” She stammered his name, before she pushed herself up so that she was mirroring his position, kneeling, although her hands were on her thighs. Her eyes danced up and down his form, lingering the longest on his face, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks. It took everything within her to not surge forward, and throw herself at the demon, to wrap him in her embrace and try to comfort him.

His head lifted and those bloody eyes of his fell on her, full of pain and grief, nothing but raw emotion. There’s a soft distressed mewl given. “You died on me.” The words come as a gruff rumble, the look on his face close to helplessness.

The demon had always struggled with emotions, she couldn’t even…. begin to imagine how her death… feeling her fade through the connection that they shared felt like. Finally, another sob escaped her, “I didn’t want to. I tried… I tried so hard not to. I fought so hard to stay alive.” A fresh wave a pain rolled over the warlock, and she curled in a little on herself. “I’m so sorry Gothrak. I was so stupid. With Xehr, with the fight, with everything. I should have apologized. You should have been with us. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

The demon made another horribly pathetic noise as she spoke, before his bloodied eyes sought hers out. “I lost myself when I lost you. Felt you die, and then you were gone, and I was lost. So lost without you.”

“I’m so sorry.” They felt like empty words that would do nothing. They offered no comfort or solace to the grieving demon before her. Regret weighed heavy on her heart, dragging it deeper into the despair it had been spiraling into. What words could she offer? What comfort could she possibly be to those she had hurt so much?

“Not as much as I am.” The demon murmured this mournfully, before finally, the warlock moved, worked her way up to her feet. Then silent, she stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him, held him him close, face against her chest. “I wish I could change everything. I wish I could take it back.” The words are murmured softly, before her eyes flutter shut, and she curls around him, almost protectively….

March 4th - Early Morning - 4:16 AM

And she wakes, reaching for the ghost of the demon that is no longer there. Her hands find nothing but sheets and pillows, and tears dampen her eyes and cheeks. The Gothrak she knows now, does not sleep with her unless she asks, and most nights she just lets him be. Mind heavy with dreams, and body exhausted with sleep, she groped around for her bedside lamp till she found it, and felt around long enough to switch it on. There’s a soft grunt against the light, before she rolls to sit up, and snatches a cigarette from the nightstand.

It lights in a beat of its own accord, and she draws heavily. Of course Beleth would haunt her dreams. He always had, and probably always will. And even in her dreams…. his words seemed to resonate deeply with everything she felt. On nights like these, she was alone, left with her thoughts and dreams till the nearly consumed her.

Truly and completely alone.

"Zynnara, I have come to the conclusion you are made of trouble."
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