Post by Kirien Melantha on Jan 7, 2009 13:47:19 GMT -5
I am not crying.
Kirien's eyes were tearing, but she didn't dare let them fall.
I am not crying.
She shook her head furiously and blinked her eyes, in a desperate attempt to banish all outward signs of weakness. But the damage was already done.
What's wrong with me?! Why can't I fight anymore?!
She bit her lip, hard, to keep herself from screaming, 'Don't threaten me, I'll tear you apart! I've seen my own blood! I'll kill you! I'm not crying, I'm not crying!' She was a sorry sight, lip bleeding, knife through palm, scantily-clad and trying desperately to hold herself together.
She ran. She never ran from a fight before. She fought dragons, she'd been more hurt than this before. And yet, she was running.
I am not a coward.
When Kirien reached her room, she slammed the door and locked it, lest any other unwelcome visitors stop by.
I am not a coward.
She pulled the switchblade from it's fleshy sheath and gasped from the pain. And the blood...she should have left the stupid thing in, and had a knife in her hand for the rest of her life! It was worse with it out.
I am not a coward.
She dropped the cursed weapon as she made her way over to her dresser, looking for something to slow her blood flow. She'd rather die a few times over than go to the infirmary right now, and have to explain to someone that she fought, and lost, and ran, and...
She tripped over a thin box that was half-hidden under her bed on her way to the dresser, and swore loudly as she fell. She rounded on the box, glaring at it for getting in her way, and froze when she realized what it contained: a shiny silver hand axe.
So close! The demon kicked the box far under her bed and screamed. So close! She had a weapon right there the whole time, and she didn't even realize! If she wasn't so rushed, if she wasn't so careless, if...
The lamp was the first thing to go, shattering against the wall as it was thrown off a little beside table. Then the dresser, toppled over and cracked on the side, the drawers falling out, clothes spilling everywhere. She couldn't fight well enough to take out her anger on the object of her frustration, so the inanimate objects surrounding her would take the damage. Everything around her would be smashed, torn, cracked, broken, thrown.
I am weak. I am a coward. I am a disgrace. I am helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless...
The last thing to go was the mirror.
Kirien's eyes were tearing, but she didn't dare let them fall.
I am not crying.
She shook her head furiously and blinked her eyes, in a desperate attempt to banish all outward signs of weakness. But the damage was already done.
What's wrong with me?! Why can't I fight anymore?!
She bit her lip, hard, to keep herself from screaming, 'Don't threaten me, I'll tear you apart! I've seen my own blood! I'll kill you! I'm not crying, I'm not crying!' She was a sorry sight, lip bleeding, knife through palm, scantily-clad and trying desperately to hold herself together.
She ran. She never ran from a fight before. She fought dragons, she'd been more hurt than this before. And yet, she was running.
I am not a coward.
When Kirien reached her room, she slammed the door and locked it, lest any other unwelcome visitors stop by.
I am not a coward.
She pulled the switchblade from it's fleshy sheath and gasped from the pain. And the blood...she should have left the stupid thing in, and had a knife in her hand for the rest of her life! It was worse with it out.
I am not a coward.
She dropped the cursed weapon as she made her way over to her dresser, looking for something to slow her blood flow. She'd rather die a few times over than go to the infirmary right now, and have to explain to someone that she fought, and lost, and ran, and...
She tripped over a thin box that was half-hidden under her bed on her way to the dresser, and swore loudly as she fell. She rounded on the box, glaring at it for getting in her way, and froze when she realized what it contained: a shiny silver hand axe.
So close! The demon kicked the box far under her bed and screamed. So close! She had a weapon right there the whole time, and she didn't even realize! If she wasn't so rushed, if she wasn't so careless, if...
The lamp was the first thing to go, shattering against the wall as it was thrown off a little beside table. Then the dresser, toppled over and cracked on the side, the drawers falling out, clothes spilling everywhere. She couldn't fight well enough to take out her anger on the object of her frustration, so the inanimate objects surrounding her would take the damage. Everything around her would be smashed, torn, cracked, broken, thrown.
I am weak. I am a coward. I am a disgrace. I am helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless...
The last thing to go was the mirror.
