Green Labyrinth
08-13-2017, 12:01 AM
Iskra’s divulgence gnarled its way through her ears, burrowing into her sentiments. She knew she should be fearful too (and she had been, watching the world cave in around her, witnessing more and more warriors give their lives for nothing, for nothing at all, standing there in the mayhem), but the ferocity grew inside her. It was partially for him, for her mother, for her sister, and for everyone else touched and scorned by this insatiable monster. Why should he be granted the chance to live on and on, commanding them, defiling them, pushing them off into treacherous worlds, simply because he could? It fueled her, incensed her, rankled all the sweetness, the warmth, away from her body and soul. So she couldn’t help but ask him, question, note the air of revenge, of rebellion, of justice for the glorious Ampere – who deserved far more than to go up in smoke and ash. “But don’t you want to fight back? Don’t you want to punish him for what he’s done?” It came on a whisper, eyes sweeping over his, understanding fear, but not wishing to drown in it. “I’m scared for what he’ll do next.” She saw his point, however, for there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, shields and swords held at close range, ineffectual, feeble, in the wake of so much terror and power. “So we’re stuck following his orders.” This notion elicited a sigh, a grumble, the slight rankle of a growl, Sila responding with a bolt of electricity over her spine.
He quieted again though, easygoing Iskra, never wishing to plague or burden others, and she shook her head at his apology; it’d been entirely unnecessary. “Don’t be. Everything will be all right.” Then little Melita smiled, bore the widest, silliest grin she could, hoping to alleviate the shroud, the veil, of uncertainty chasing after all of them. When the subject changed, to exploring, as if it wasn’t one more creation of chaos tethering their souls, she elaborated on their choices (like they had any). “How about a forest?” Then, cheeky and defiant all over again, a role she kept slipping into with little difficulty, she leaped and bounded into the abyss, plunging right back into mayhem’s reaches, thrown straight into Kaos’ bidding.
He quieted again though, easygoing Iskra, never wishing to plague or burden others, and she shook her head at his apology; it’d been entirely unnecessary. “Don’t be. Everything will be all right.” Then little Melita smiled, bore the widest, silliest grin she could, hoping to alleviate the shroud, the veil, of uncertainty chasing after all of them. When the subject changed, to exploring, as if it wasn’t one more creation of chaos tethering their souls, she elaborated on their choices (like they had any). “How about a forest?” Then, cheeky and defiant all over again, a role she kept slipping into with little difficulty, she leaped and bounded into the abyss, plunging right back into mayhem’s reaches, thrown straight into Kaos’ bidding.
Melita
let me live that fantasy
@Iskra
