08-03-2019, 09:12 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-03-2019, 09:18 PM by Warringkingdoms.)
[font=trebuchet ms]/tw: nightmares, blood, allusions to eye injuries and suicide in italicized portion, mention of alcohol in second to last paragraph
The linoleum floors chilled her paw pads as she paced through the corridors, the musty odor stifling all signs of life. Gray walls stretched as far as she could see, muted by darkness and disuse. Cold seeped through the ceiling and sank into every inch of the building.
She was alone, or at least she thought so. Occasionally she could hear the floors creaking, or dry coughing, or distant yelling. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe it really was just her at the end of the world with no one left to challenge the odds, except her continuing to yell and scream as though it mattered what she had to say.
Finally, she reached a corner, something to break up the maddening monotony. She rounded it, and right before her were two felines, one whiskey-eyed, one sunflower-eyed.
Look at yourself, said the one, how many times, said the other, and the world proceeded to collapse into a cacophony of sights and sounds. Does it make you feel better. Eyes crying red. Phoenixes last forever. Steel melting under flames. We trusted you to not harm the guise of a loved one and yet it all burned down. Arrows, through the stomach, through the shoulder, through the side. You just won't die, much as she sometimes wanted to. Sometimes? Never changes. Teeth and claws breaking skin, ripping, shredding, fighting for either a life or a hope of one. Dishonest. Dirty. Dishonorable. Fine one to speak of honor.
They descended upon her
and she was awake, her entire body twitching in pain and panic, her breathing rapid and uneven.
She rolled over, staring down at the puddle of rainwater by her head. No blood on her face, no fresh wounds, no sign of an attack that hadn't already been dealt with. No scent of them. Just wood, warmth, mildew and moisture. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, trying for all she was worth to settle her breathing. She wouldn't want anyone to know about the state she was in, let alone a stranger; the Typhoon's help with her physical injuries was appreciated, but they had no further right to information about her mental health than some loner off the street.
She knew she shouldn't have fallen asleep. Mumbling herb names under her breath to distract herself, Rin got to her feet and trudged outside, stopping at the edge of the platform and staring out over the expanse of jungle. Despite the warm breeze blowing through the leaves, she still shivered, her ears pinned back against her skull. She didn't dare look at the stars, so she instead cast her gaze onto the sand, and counted the rocks protruding from among the grains. A menial task? Yes. Did she care? No.
"Twenty," she murmured, "twenty-one, twenty-one guns... no." Shuddering, she shook her head. "Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty... twenty dollar nosebleed... no. Twenty-five." Sitting down, she curled her tail around her paws in a vain attempt at warming herself up. Feeling cold and seeking warmth in the strangest places... didn't sound familiar to her at all, nope, nosiree. Swallowing, she continued, "Twenty-six, twenty-seven, too many war wounds and not enough wars."
With a stifled hiss, she hunched her shoulders. "Stop," she pleaded, unsure of whom she was asking. "Just... just stop." Lowering her head, she stared intently at her paws, unwilling to close her eyes. She just needed to forget, just for a few moments. Long enough to stop freaking out. Alcohol might do it, if she knew where to find some.
She probably couldn't get there anyway. Heaving a long sigh, Rin swept her gaze over the treehouses, hoping to find someone else awake at this hour. Not to have a long, deep conversation with, but to just... small talk. She'd hated the idea of small talk once upon a time, but maybe it could help her. Maybe.
The linoleum floors chilled her paw pads as she paced through the corridors, the musty odor stifling all signs of life. Gray walls stretched as far as she could see, muted by darkness and disuse. Cold seeped through the ceiling and sank into every inch of the building.
She was alone, or at least she thought so. Occasionally she could hear the floors creaking, or dry coughing, or distant yelling. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe it really was just her at the end of the world with no one left to challenge the odds, except her continuing to yell and scream as though it mattered what she had to say.
Finally, she reached a corner, something to break up the maddening monotony. She rounded it, and right before her were two felines, one whiskey-eyed, one sunflower-eyed.
Look at yourself, said the one, how many times, said the other, and the world proceeded to collapse into a cacophony of sights and sounds. Does it make you feel better. Eyes crying red. Phoenixes last forever. Steel melting under flames. We trusted you to not harm the guise of a loved one and yet it all burned down. Arrows, through the stomach, through the shoulder, through the side. You just won't die, much as she sometimes wanted to. Sometimes? Never changes. Teeth and claws breaking skin, ripping, shredding, fighting for either a life or a hope of one. Dishonest. Dirty. Dishonorable. Fine one to speak of honor.
They descended upon her
and she was awake, her entire body twitching in pain and panic, her breathing rapid and uneven.
She rolled over, staring down at the puddle of rainwater by her head. No blood on her face, no fresh wounds, no sign of an attack that hadn't already been dealt with. No scent of them. Just wood, warmth, mildew and moisture. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, trying for all she was worth to settle her breathing. She wouldn't want anyone to know about the state she was in, let alone a stranger; the Typhoon's help with her physical injuries was appreciated, but they had no further right to information about her mental health than some loner off the street.
She knew she shouldn't have fallen asleep. Mumbling herb names under her breath to distract herself, Rin got to her feet and trudged outside, stopping at the edge of the platform and staring out over the expanse of jungle. Despite the warm breeze blowing through the leaves, she still shivered, her ears pinned back against her skull. She didn't dare look at the stars, so she instead cast her gaze onto the sand, and counted the rocks protruding from among the grains. A menial task? Yes. Did she care? No.
"Twenty," she murmured, "twenty-one, twenty-one guns... no." Shuddering, she shook her head. "Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty... twenty dollar nosebleed... no. Twenty-five." Sitting down, she curled her tail around her paws in a vain attempt at warming herself up. Feeling cold and seeking warmth in the strangest places... didn't sound familiar to her at all, nope, nosiree. Swallowing, she continued, "Twenty-six, twenty-seven, too many war wounds and not enough wars."
With a stifled hiss, she hunched her shoulders. "Stop," she pleaded, unsure of whom she was asking. "Just... just stop." Lowering her head, she stared intently at her paws, unwilling to close her eyes. She just needed to forget, just for a few moments. Long enough to stop freaking out. Alcohol might do it, if she knew where to find some.
She probably couldn't get there anyway. Heaving a long sigh, Rin swept her gaze over the treehouses, hoping to find someone else awake at this hour. Not to have a long, deep conversation with, but to just... small talk. She'd hated the idea of small talk once upon a time, but maybe it could help her. Maybe.
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