08-02-2018, 03:04 PM
ASPIRING FIRES !
nui harime — female — snowbound — eaglehunter — hard physicality
hurt
[629 word count]
Hurt was such a strange word. It betrayed vulnerability to whatever it was applied to. Nui did not like the idea of being hurt. Certainly not herself, or miss Ragyo. She liked to believe that she could never be hurt.
But some things stated otherwise.
The first time Nui had set herself up for pain began when Dr. Matoi’s blade had sliced across her face, cutting across her eye and thoroughly removing whatever hopes she had of regenerating. Because his blade was special; meant to cripple the fibers that tied her together. Meant to kill any hope she had of recovering permanently from her injuries. Her eye would not come back. She knew that when a plume of blood and ichor came spraying from her face, her gasp had been more of shock and rage rather than that of agony and pain.
She had not felt the pain then, no.
Because the true hurt had not occurred when Dr. Matoi stole her left vision’s sight from her. But after. When she finished embedding the very scissor he used to slice her up in the old geezer’s stomach, warm sticky blood coating her paws as she trotted home.
She had only gotten partially of what she had been sent there to retrieve.
Mother did not scream, or yell, or glower, or lash out with her claws.
But her words were coated with disappointment. Etched in disbelief at the prospect of failure-- even partial failure. Ragyo did not believe in ‘partial’ failure.
And Ragyo’s words hurt more than any wound that any enemy could inflict upon Nui.
That was the first time she’d been humiliated. And the first time that she had felt hurt.
---
The Revoc’s Corporation’s base was less like a building and more like a palace. A fitting home for a queen, if anything.
Nui stepped into Kiryuin’s office. Many of the room’s lights were off, the office shaded with cool colors. The only luminosity emanating from her glorious ruler, of course.
Nui stared expectantly up at her ruler, singular eye gleaming. The other left a bloody socket. Ragyo’s attention was instantly drawn to the injury, eyebrows quirked to attention.
She remembers the gush of information, streaming effortlessly from her mouth. She remembers relaying that the doctor had built a weapon to cease the life fiber’s regenerative abilities. It was a dangerous ability indeed; and Nui brandished the scissor blade liberally, displaying a part of the weapon that had so seamlessly injured her.
She had killed Dr. Matoi. Stripped him of his life with an expert slash and stab of his own weapon. It had been so seamlessly perfect. So poetic, to be destroyed by his own creation. He should be glad, really, to go out in such a way. He should be glad that she killed him.
But in the end, she did not take the kamui from him. She did not find his secret creation.
She had forgotten of that. Of the kamui, long after the adrenaline and the excitement had left her, and she was preoccupied with the acknowledgment of the loss of one of her eyes.
“And where is the kamui?” Ragyo inquired, her imposing frame shadowed by the backdrop of her office.
Nui was snapped from her thoughts. Hesitated for just a fraction of a second before she dutifully responded. “I could not retrieve it, m’lady,” her voice is concise; to the point and straightforward, yet she could not keep the tint of regret from her voice.
“Very well then,” Ragyo rumbled, though her voice was filled with dissatisfaction. Perhaps she was placated at the thought of offing the haggard scientist? But the acknowledgment of the ounce of displeasure within her creator’s voice made Nui falter slightly.
And the knowledge of her failure stung.
[629 word count]
Hurt was such a strange word. It betrayed vulnerability to whatever it was applied to. Nui did not like the idea of being hurt. Certainly not herself, or miss Ragyo. She liked to believe that she could never be hurt.
But some things stated otherwise.
The first time Nui had set herself up for pain began when Dr. Matoi’s blade had sliced across her face, cutting across her eye and thoroughly removing whatever hopes she had of regenerating. Because his blade was special; meant to cripple the fibers that tied her together. Meant to kill any hope she had of recovering permanently from her injuries. Her eye would not come back. She knew that when a plume of blood and ichor came spraying from her face, her gasp had been more of shock and rage rather than that of agony and pain.
She had not felt the pain then, no.
Because the true hurt had not occurred when Dr. Matoi stole her left vision’s sight from her. But after. When she finished embedding the very scissor he used to slice her up in the old geezer’s stomach, warm sticky blood coating her paws as she trotted home.
She had only gotten partially of what she had been sent there to retrieve.
Mother did not scream, or yell, or glower, or lash out with her claws.
But her words were coated with disappointment. Etched in disbelief at the prospect of failure-- even partial failure. Ragyo did not believe in ‘partial’ failure.
And Ragyo’s words hurt more than any wound that any enemy could inflict upon Nui.
That was the first time she’d been humiliated. And the first time that she had felt hurt.
---
The Revoc’s Corporation’s base was less like a building and more like a palace. A fitting home for a queen, if anything.
Nui stepped into Kiryuin’s office. Many of the room’s lights were off, the office shaded with cool colors. The only luminosity emanating from her glorious ruler, of course.
Nui stared expectantly up at her ruler, singular eye gleaming. The other left a bloody socket. Ragyo’s attention was instantly drawn to the injury, eyebrows quirked to attention.
She remembers the gush of information, streaming effortlessly from her mouth. She remembers relaying that the doctor had built a weapon to cease the life fiber’s regenerative abilities. It was a dangerous ability indeed; and Nui brandished the scissor blade liberally, displaying a part of the weapon that had so seamlessly injured her.
She had killed Dr. Matoi. Stripped him of his life with an expert slash and stab of his own weapon. It had been so seamlessly perfect. So poetic, to be destroyed by his own creation. He should be glad, really, to go out in such a way. He should be glad that she killed him.
But in the end, she did not take the kamui from him. She did not find his secret creation.
She had forgotten of that. Of the kamui, long after the adrenaline and the excitement had left her, and she was preoccupied with the acknowledgment of the loss of one of her eyes.
“And where is the kamui?” Ragyo inquired, her imposing frame shadowed by the backdrop of her office.
Nui was snapped from her thoughts. Hesitated for just a fraction of a second before she dutifully responded. “I could not retrieve it, m’lady,” her voice is concise; to the point and straightforward, yet she could not keep the tint of regret from her voice.
“Very well then,” Ragyo rumbled, though her voice was filled with dissatisfaction. Perhaps she was placated at the thought of offing the haggard scientist? But the acknowledgment of the ounce of displeasure within her creator’s voice made Nui falter slightly.
And the knowledge of her failure stung.