07-20-2018, 10:28 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]She had been nothing more than a little girl when the first sirens had gone off.
It had been late at night, just as uneventful as the other days had been as she played with her friends in the clearing outside of the little village that the group had called their own. She had been five months old, maybe six, too young to fully comprehend life and what was plaguing her life. The creatures in power were oppressive, but they weren't a big threat to her until that night, more interested in people who weren't her family. If it wasn't her family, Sombra had never cared, living in a happy bubble that her parents had eagerly kept their daughter in, hoping that one day, things would turn out okay.
They hadn't. Their little girl had to grow up at five months old, watching her entire family get slaughtered, the fires rising high and engulfing everyone else, and running away with nothing but a scrappy little teddy bear to keep her company.
It had been two years, after that. Two years of wandering alone, trying to find a place to live, with nothing but señor Teo by her side. She had learned what it meant to have power, what it had meant to be poor. She had learned exactly what her place was according to those who had the ability to kill her on sight if they wanted to, and then learned exactly what she needed to do to keep them all in check. Knowledge became power, and whatever information she could get as blackmail to keep herself alive was a valuable asset.
So she stole. She prodded. She made sure to know exactly where it hurt, and where to stab the metaphorical knife into the backs of those who dared to wrong her or those who had been in her position. Olivia was gone, replaced by someone that would never be weak again. Someone who would never live in the shadow of the oppressors for as long as she stood.
It had been two years. Perhaps she had joked with Gabriel about fires, fantasized about getting away from these giant plains of grass... but she could never start one on her own. The fire always reminded her of them. It reminded her of home, of all she knew and loved going up in flames and turning into nothing but ash and dust in front of her eyes. She was scared of it, was scared to lose everything she had once again even though she had nothing left to give but her own life. She wasn't afraid of losing that, if it meant for the right cost. She was afraid to die before she could make a difference.
But all others saw was a woman who was a thief, a woman who did nothing but live as a nuisance. She hadn't made the difference she wanted. She wasn't ready.
She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to die.
"Papi!" her voice was broken, a sob shaken out into the smoke filled air, the flames already licking the outside of her door as she huddled against the wall, tears streaking her cheeks and shock rendering her immovable. "Por favor, no mueras!"
But he wasn't there. He wasn't alive anymore. The face she was looking at wasn't real, melting before her as her screams blended into the crackling flames outside. She wasn't there anymore, but that was something she couldn't tell.
In her mind, she was five months old once more, begging for her father to stay.
It had been late at night, just as uneventful as the other days had been as she played with her friends in the clearing outside of the little village that the group had called their own. She had been five months old, maybe six, too young to fully comprehend life and what was plaguing her life. The creatures in power were oppressive, but they weren't a big threat to her until that night, more interested in people who weren't her family. If it wasn't her family, Sombra had never cared, living in a happy bubble that her parents had eagerly kept their daughter in, hoping that one day, things would turn out okay.
They hadn't. Their little girl had to grow up at five months old, watching her entire family get slaughtered, the fires rising high and engulfing everyone else, and running away with nothing but a scrappy little teddy bear to keep her company.
It had been two years, after that. Two years of wandering alone, trying to find a place to live, with nothing but señor Teo by her side. She had learned what it meant to have power, what it had meant to be poor. She had learned exactly what her place was according to those who had the ability to kill her on sight if they wanted to, and then learned exactly what she needed to do to keep them all in check. Knowledge became power, and whatever information she could get as blackmail to keep herself alive was a valuable asset.
So she stole. She prodded. She made sure to know exactly where it hurt, and where to stab the metaphorical knife into the backs of those who dared to wrong her or those who had been in her position. Olivia was gone, replaced by someone that would never be weak again. Someone who would never live in the shadow of the oppressors for as long as she stood.
It had been two years. Perhaps she had joked with Gabriel about fires, fantasized about getting away from these giant plains of grass... but she could never start one on her own. The fire always reminded her of them. It reminded her of home, of all she knew and loved going up in flames and turning into nothing but ash and dust in front of her eyes. She was scared of it, was scared to lose everything she had once again even though she had nothing left to give but her own life. She wasn't afraid of losing that, if it meant for the right cost. She was afraid to die before she could make a difference.
But all others saw was a woman who was a thief, a woman who did nothing but live as a nuisance. She hadn't made the difference she wanted. She wasn't ready.
She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to die.
"Papi!" her voice was broken, a sob shaken out into the smoke filled air, the flames already licking the outside of her door as she huddled against the wall, tears streaking her cheeks and shock rendering her immovable. "Por favor, no mueras!"
But he wasn't there. He wasn't alive anymore. The face she was looking at wasn't real, melting before her as her screams blended into the crackling flames outside. She wasn't there anymore, but that was something she couldn't tell.
In her mind, she was five months old once more, begging for her father to stay.
♔ — I want brimstone in my garden