08-22-2018, 12:45 AM
[align=center][div style="width:400px; font-size:8.4pt;line-height:1.1;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Gentle and soft, with a voice which spoke within the tone of many, a choir uttering familiar words: Do not fear.
But what of those fallen, whose wings were ravaged by a world uncaring of their plight, the cries expelled from throat burned swallowed by the din. Twisted and gnarled are they, bitter trees whose roots are festering and yet run deep for this place is theirs, the pure few they had once called brethren forgotten amongst the taint. Here sin was a snake with fangs dripping, poised to strike as it coils ever tighter about the throat, a personal noose to bring you to the end. It did not matter the intentions or the innocence, children here seemed almost to lack such a thing, given to the sins of the father, all seem to succumb to the darkness which offers only pain.
And what of Aita, that poor little child, whose very soul was sold to the devil before she had breathed her first, taken when she had been nothing more than a speck with so much possibility. Within the soul of a child lingers a darkness which was born not of the angelic nor the hellish fires, but rather of a mortal driven to an end she had never wanted, given a curse in the frame of a gift. It was a waltz they danced so many times, entangled together for it seemed they were one and the same, this child lacking her innocence and this twisted God with her mournful cries, both seeking yet never getting the happy life they so desperately wanted.
Accustomed had the child grown to feeling the thrum of energy in hours she had no want to move, pushed into action of one form or another to be rid of it, her favoured a walk along the beach or within the depths of the jungle. It seemed almost fortunate she was present, one of so few now for their numbers had dwindled and down it went again beneath the jaws of a hound, each step leaving her satchel to strike her side. She had taken to checking it before leaving for her little escapades, never did she want to be caught unawares as she had with Beck, left empty handed because she had been too stupid to realise she had not repacked her supplies. Yet never had she thought it would be needed so soon, not for one who she thought of highly, another on the team who had become like a family to her inn recent days.
Marcellus. It was strange to see the cheetah so deep in the jungle, running as though his life was dependent on his speed, each movement strangely jerky and uncoordinated as though he were driven on by shock. For a time she thought nothing of it but quickly her thoughts turned back, latching onto what she had thought was just birds, a strange song but one of theirs none the less. Surely it hadn't been screams, another hurt for the simple fact life is a cruel mistress with no care for those she is to tend to, sending them off to death with barely anything left to them.
Turning towards where Marcellus' had first appeared to her the tiny sage took a quick pace, startled into faster action when the call for a medic rose. The scene which greeted her as not one she expected. Laid out on the ground was Junji, leave a bloody mess of bruises and cut flesh, barely hinting at what was beneath though she was grateful for that much, if the bone didn't pierce through the skin it would make things at least a little easier. Swinging off her bag Aita moved closer, tentative glance raising to Luca though she made no move to stop him just yet, seeming deep in concentration so she would allow him this, wait until he was back to get assistance.
Why was she always the first.
“Junji? Can you hear me?” Speaking as loudly as she dared, which was little more than a rough whisper, she pulled out the bottle of water and one roll of bandages, quickly wetting them and making a move to wipe away the blood on his back so she could better see the damage. The rest could wait for the moment while she handled the bleeding though once Luca was finished she would tear off a segment of clean bandage and wet it, passing it to him and gesturing he should clean off his face. Until Rosemary or Fischer got here this was the best she could do, her experience with bone wasn't that good and she didn't want to jostle it and make it worse.
But what of those fallen, whose wings were ravaged by a world uncaring of their plight, the cries expelled from throat burned swallowed by the din. Twisted and gnarled are they, bitter trees whose roots are festering and yet run deep for this place is theirs, the pure few they had once called brethren forgotten amongst the taint. Here sin was a snake with fangs dripping, poised to strike as it coils ever tighter about the throat, a personal noose to bring you to the end. It did not matter the intentions or the innocence, children here seemed almost to lack such a thing, given to the sins of the father, all seem to succumb to the darkness which offers only pain.
And what of Aita, that poor little child, whose very soul was sold to the devil before she had breathed her first, taken when she had been nothing more than a speck with so much possibility. Within the soul of a child lingers a darkness which was born not of the angelic nor the hellish fires, but rather of a mortal driven to an end she had never wanted, given a curse in the frame of a gift. It was a waltz they danced so many times, entangled together for it seemed they were one and the same, this child lacking her innocence and this twisted God with her mournful cries, both seeking yet never getting the happy life they so desperately wanted.
Accustomed had the child grown to feeling the thrum of energy in hours she had no want to move, pushed into action of one form or another to be rid of it, her favoured a walk along the beach or within the depths of the jungle. It seemed almost fortunate she was present, one of so few now for their numbers had dwindled and down it went again beneath the jaws of a hound, each step leaving her satchel to strike her side. She had taken to checking it before leaving for her little escapades, never did she want to be caught unawares as she had with Beck, left empty handed because she had been too stupid to realise she had not repacked her supplies. Yet never had she thought it would be needed so soon, not for one who she thought of highly, another on the team who had become like a family to her inn recent days.
Marcellus. It was strange to see the cheetah so deep in the jungle, running as though his life was dependent on his speed, each movement strangely jerky and uncoordinated as though he were driven on by shock. For a time she thought nothing of it but quickly her thoughts turned back, latching onto what she had thought was just birds, a strange song but one of theirs none the less. Surely it hadn't been screams, another hurt for the simple fact life is a cruel mistress with no care for those she is to tend to, sending them off to death with barely anything left to them.
Turning towards where Marcellus' had first appeared to her the tiny sage took a quick pace, startled into faster action when the call for a medic rose. The scene which greeted her as not one she expected. Laid out on the ground was Junji, leave a bloody mess of bruises and cut flesh, barely hinting at what was beneath though she was grateful for that much, if the bone didn't pierce through the skin it would make things at least a little easier. Swinging off her bag Aita moved closer, tentative glance raising to Luca though she made no move to stop him just yet, seeming deep in concentration so she would allow him this, wait until he was back to get assistance.
Why was she always the first.
“Junji? Can you hear me?” Speaking as loudly as she dared, which was little more than a rough whisper, she pulled out the bottle of water and one roll of bandages, quickly wetting them and making a move to wipe away the blood on his back so she could better see the damage. The rest could wait for the moment while she handled the bleeding though once Luca was finished she would tear off a segment of clean bandage and wet it, passing it to him and gesturing he should clean off his face. Until Rosemary or Fischer got here this was the best she could do, her experience with bone wasn't that good and she didn't want to jostle it and make it worse.