Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2022 22:44:35 GMT -5
The sun set by the minute in the dying lights, of a day one could only hope to forget with time.
The forest tore at the girl’s clothes in her run, their branches like frail claws hoping to halt her advancement. The dirt crunched beneath her boots with every step, as violent in rhythm as every pounding of her pulse in her head. Her lungs burned behind panted breaths, palms almost sweating under strain of white-knuckled fists.
A gunshot rang out through the air, preluding a thud and splintering bark to the blond’s ten o’clock a yard out. It persisted as nearing frustrated shouts came from behind; how difficult it was to discern in the heat of the moments. The march was designed to herd the target into a preordained clearing proclaimed to have been scouted out days before. The roar of an engine was somewhere among all the commotion, the wailing cries of squealing brakes rang out into the night.
”This is the night boys! One final push!”
There came a final resounding shot into the air, and then there was light.
So blinding, so pure – so very hot.
The light scorched deeper than fire. It burned hotter than the lick of the sun, and more relentless than any unseen scars. There was a weightlessness to her form. Celeste felt a touch at her wrist and then caught a pair of somber gray eyes. They burned into her soul. She felt it in every pore of her body until her hands, arms, and body were no more. Still, it burned. There were no final breaths, no small reprieves of wind and stars, only that light and ever-encroaching oblivion.
Silence came to her like a burial shroud. No longer burning. No longer anything but quiet. She felt nothing as her senses faded and the silence consumed all. She existed then in only a single thought: Let it end.
The thought faded. And then, suddenly, there was weight.
Her back pressed hard against uneven ground. A cold wind tussled softly at her hair. She lifted a heavy hand and touched at her forehead. Solid skin. She let out a tortured groan.
Celeste took her time sitting up, darkly relishing in the churning of her stomach and the way her head would spin. She let out a deep breath, then touched at the blood upon her shoulder, which would dilute and wisp into an umbral smoke. The witch felt her eyes flood with melancholy, finding the traces of her humanity fleeting with the time which incidents like this occurred. The dying sunlight stung her eyes, but she shielded them with a hand and looked up to it anyway.
How long was she in the dark?
The sorceress offered a glance to the forest. The shouts were gone. It would seem they didn’t search hard enough.
With a soft sigh, Celeste rose to her feet, straightening the folds of her cloak and the disarrangement of her sleeves as she stood. With civilization possibly still so close, this wasn't the most convenient place for such an unwelcomed display - not when her lacerations still oozed of blood. Still, Celeste didn't care to check for incoming company as she scanned the forest floor. At best, she would slip by unnoticed until she could play at fate for a while longer. At worst, she'd pretend to die in some mock witch hunt and then wait long enough for her name to slip into legend. Her health hardly mattered when she had more important matters to tend with.
A missing possession, for instance.
"Ah, so there you are." Her hat had nestled itself by the roots of an old oak tree. She bent to retrieve it, brushing the dirt off of it before placing it back on her head.
"None the worse for wear."PL: 24,000 | Antisense: Inactive
- Celeste escapes her pursuers utilizing Voidwalker
WC: 636