Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Jan 12, 2015 18:22:44 GMT -6
Her feet trembled like snares as she walked through the crisp snow, her cheeks and lips puffy and red as if she'd spent all of her energy blowing a horn. She kept her hood up against the whistling cold, but it bit like a serpent nonetheless.
The bard picked up her pace, hoping to reach her destination before she became a solid block of ice. There was so much left that needed doing, and if she were to die before her plans were put into action--
Sarea caught her thoughts and huffed. She feared her eyes watering, for the cold of the air would freeze her lashes shut, rendering her blind in this blizzard. But some things couldn't be helped, like the ghost of an innocent friend haunting her for her treachery.
There was a reason only she felt the cold more than others. It sent chills down her spine, rattling her bones and lashing her bare skin like a whip backed only by seething fury and a chorus of angry voices, growing only louder and louder in her ears. She'd betrayed the only two people who cared for her, not even thinking of their fates when she was given an irrefutable offer. That girl could have been happy. She was to be married, but left only a vengeful widow forced to walk in half a world. Her flowers, once always in bloom, lay dead in every garden, every bouquet, and every crown, never to breathe life again. This had been Sarea's doing, and now, much as her own throat had been slit, she threatened with the slicing gale to slit the bard's.
She forced herself to continue through the despairing maelstrom, towards the only place that would help her find redemption.
The bard picked up her pace, hoping to reach her destination before she became a solid block of ice. There was so much left that needed doing, and if she were to die before her plans were put into action--
Sarea caught her thoughts and huffed. She feared her eyes watering, for the cold of the air would freeze her lashes shut, rendering her blind in this blizzard. But some things couldn't be helped, like the ghost of an innocent friend haunting her for her treachery.
There was a reason only she felt the cold more than others. It sent chills down her spine, rattling her bones and lashing her bare skin like a whip backed only by seething fury and a chorus of angry voices, growing only louder and louder in her ears. She'd betrayed the only two people who cared for her, not even thinking of their fates when she was given an irrefutable offer. That girl could have been happy. She was to be married, but left only a vengeful widow forced to walk in half a world. Her flowers, once always in bloom, lay dead in every garden, every bouquet, and every crown, never to breathe life again. This had been Sarea's doing, and now, much as her own throat had been slit, she threatened with the slicing gale to slit the bard's.
She forced herself to continue through the despairing maelstrom, towards the only place that would help her find redemption.
