by Celandreia on February 1, 2010

in Character Logs and Stories

By: Skeas

It was not fear. It was not regret, or pain. It was a listless disinterest that took the young maiden’s eyes as she calmly stared down at the simple birch shaft protruding from the bandeau that concealed her nearly nonexistant bosom. She took a very short moment for herself to admire the colorful feathers decorating the back end of the little wooden cylinder.

So ironic that this beautiful little killer would be the one to take her. Beauty, a facade — and here it was, saving her from the facade that was life. Here it was, giving unto her the only truth- the final truth. The slender, smoky blue and wavy blade fell from her hand not from surprise, but from surrender. Her long, silken blonde curtain of hair became silver and matted from the point of the arrow’s entry and down, as her rich, beautiful blood drained slowly from the space around her pretty, little arrow. It would be the last of many arrows she would own.

She looked up, finally, from her new arrow, emptied hands but for the pale blood staining them following slowly, palms upturned as if to pose a question not completely formulated into speech. The massive, sable-furred, wolf-like creature across the clearing let his bow list to its side, nodding once before turning and marching back off into the forest. The woman could not follow, even were she interested in the answers she might glean from such a pursuit. The only truth was already coming to her, in the infinite blackness that began to obscure her vision.

A voice- it spoke in her native language, but whether it was into her ear or into her mind, she could not be certain.

“You are not quite ready for the truth, mm? Still you have so much to learn.”

And she woke. She sat up miserably, looking around from her seat on a bed wreathed in silky flames. The room was one lavish, though she could not recall having been there previously. She recalled the nightmare from the previous night and reached to touch her arrow wound- she did not have one. She let out a halfway relieved sigh and pulled her hand away, looking down.

Right into her palm full of beautiful, colorful feathers.

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