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Old 07-21-2012, 07:25 AM
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Saraibre Ryu Offline
Drasconis Deviantus
 
Join Date: Jan 2007
Location: Voids of my mind
Posts: 6,530
Default Re: [WAR XI] Let me Tell you a Story...

Your only child, one you could not hold, had never held, had never taken care of, been turned into a monster by force, now finally free from such horrendous circumstances… was now in the claims of a society that was scarred by war and destruction, blaming this young child for it. Their solution, belief that since your child had no family present, no way of belonging in either the natural or civilized world they were born in, was bound to die because there was no family bond to support them. Believing they were sparing your child a terrible fate, they shot a tipped blade through your child’s chest, she being unable to scream because she had no energy, no breath to do so, only to fall limp, and be carried away as those claimed freedom of a menace and they had done something right.

I felt sadness, sorrow, numbness and some odd presence in my midst. I was somewhere, but not in the cell, or six feet in the ground. Was I dead? No, but death I could feel was looking right at me. I stared back at it, only to have it wave me away, and leave my presence. Everything faded, and the first thing I knew was a long soreness going through my chest, in the exact same spot the blade had claimed my life.

At least, tried to.

I was not dead, where they wanted me dead. Their shock would soon turn to frustration, especially of the one who had kept me behind bars, ordering my execution every time they thought of something new. I was still, only a child, thanks to dragons aging slowly. Soon they tried to shut me down from the inside, constricting my lungs and organs with a deadly poison that soon changed to something so potent it even tried to assault my mind. As immunities built up, so did my will power, knowing that to die here, wasn’t right. It was wrong to die here; this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

If a burning poison didn’t get you, then a vice grip around your neck until your body was sore from thrashing, and became numb with cold fatigue. Maybe a burning laceration that bled out your very red life as it burns you from the inside out and outside in, the corrosive liquid that once made you alive now taking it away. Tied up in iron and metal then thrown until you fell into a cold, battering river, falling and falling until you hit the bottom. Suffocating yourself in hopes that maybe there is enough air in the frigid water to give you that one breath you need. Perhaps a deadly monster tossing you around between his fangs in a bony maw, your bones cracking against the rock walls, barely feeling the skin on your hide that is ripped into rags of which you can’t even look at because of all the blood draining into your eyes from the gash across your head.

Now try coming back each and every time, from all of that, over the next near century. I wasn’t supposed to have a reality, I wasn’t supposed to have escaped my hell bound fate, and I wasn’t supposed to be alive. All of it fell in line, one after the other. I wouldn’t die for the wrong reason such as this, I wasn’t going to let them win. Thanks to my father’s blood magic, I could ward off perishing if I was stubborn enough, and I wasn’t going to let them win, so stubborn I was. Necromancy in your blood has it’s perks. However, in my attempts to stay alive, I never noticed that they had managed to kill off a part off of me.

My inner child.

There was no fun in constant battles for your life, everyone staring at you with bloodied weapons, poisoned food, rusted cuffs and chains. My fear of them turned into an unhealthy, infectious anger, a stubborn will that put itself in a charade of courage within my mentality. I had no idea that the same entity I was instigating into them, only made my situation worse. I had no way of speaking for myself over those many years aside from this body language, and one of the only ways I could, was my refusal to die. I was this renegade with no family, no way of being, and beating these impossible odds of which no one believed me for. In their eyes, I was evil; some devil spawn of a dragon corrupted by what once claimed me with no hope. It was a witch hunt, only the one witch everyone was so desperate to get rid of managed to complete the other side of the scenario, rather than dying because of an unrealistic judgement. Once it looked like they had enough with my constant stubbornness, I thought they had finally gotten the idea. I was someone else, not this thing that tried to kill them all and worse so many years ago. The nightmare seemed to be over, as I was dragged out to some odd looking doorway. Never having a chance to escape, or having the know how to escape, I thought this was a way out.

They threw me and I hit the ground. Then I was there again.

Alone.

Have you ever been so used to a place that one of a similar look, but entirely different location feels so frightening, and you just know this isn’t a place you should be? Immediately when I hit the ground, and looked up, I felt that, along with that same loneliness I knew at the beginning of my life. In the time of that cell, I was a confused adult in a child’s brain, no sense of anything, where I was, or what was going to happen next. I was removed from my own home and abandoned in another world entirely, hoping I would die.

Those who feared me abandoned me and hoped I would die once and for all, after almost a hundred years of deadly torture had failed. I was there because of the fear of what I previously was; a murdering, existence erasing, nothingness bringing monster that was forcibly taken from a small feral pack life as a mere toddler, all because of the fact I was never supposed to exist.

So, you figure out how that all works. Am I dead now? Depends on what you mean by dead. Like I said, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.
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Last edited by Saraibre Ryu; 07-21-2012 at 08:24 AM.
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