Post by p1erx0r on Dec 4, 2006 17:07:53 GMT -4
It the dead of the night, the cold of the desert, high in the sky, on the tip of a mountin....
Sitting, legs crossed in a passive manor, eyes closed. Her body is draped in all black, with a black mask over her face, white outlining parts of her hands and feet. The wind kicks up, the sand blowing around her. The torrent of sand kicks upwards, and flows, the grains spreading as they slam across her face. Yet, she is unmoved. Through the blackness of the night, the illumination of the moon, she sits, unwavering. Through the cold of the desert nights, the wicked burn of the sand, she sits, unwavering. Her eyes slowly open, as she stares west, towards the blinking lights of trasa. The glowing red eyes scan off in the horizon, unable to see much then slight lights in the distance from her perch on the mountain. The night was silent, other than the howl of the wind.
She slowly moves to her feet, her moves almost hauntingly graceful. Her eyes lock on to a certain light, and she slowly peels her eyes away. She scans out across the desert, watching for any more grunthian raiding parties. It's quite amusing to watch them squirm, scramble and run in fear, unaware of where she will strike again. She moves slowly to a small, basic cave. It has a small mattress with sheets and a blanket, and an old wood stove. She tosses another log into the fire, watching as it burns silently. She turns back, standing at the mouth of the cave. She was 17. She was considered a criminal in most of the cities along charta, and a traitor to most who even began to consider her as a friend. In her mind, she was a monster...a freak. A little girl, who's childhood was stripped from her, leaving her in the vast emptiness of life. Instead of cowering in the shadows, she made friends with it. She grew, and learned. She lowered her guard once, only to be pierced through the heart. Never again, she vowed. She shook her head slightly at her thoughts. It was a learning experience. Nothing more. She spins and heads for her cave. She would rest for now.
Sitting, legs crossed in a passive manor, eyes closed. Her body is draped in all black, with a black mask over her face, white outlining parts of her hands and feet. The wind kicks up, the sand blowing around her. The torrent of sand kicks upwards, and flows, the grains spreading as they slam across her face. Yet, she is unmoved. Through the blackness of the night, the illumination of the moon, she sits, unwavering. Through the cold of the desert nights, the wicked burn of the sand, she sits, unwavering. Her eyes slowly open, as she stares west, towards the blinking lights of trasa. The glowing red eyes scan off in the horizon, unable to see much then slight lights in the distance from her perch on the mountain. The night was silent, other than the howl of the wind.
She slowly moves to her feet, her moves almost hauntingly graceful. Her eyes lock on to a certain light, and she slowly peels her eyes away. She scans out across the desert, watching for any more grunthian raiding parties. It's quite amusing to watch them squirm, scramble and run in fear, unaware of where she will strike again. She moves slowly to a small, basic cave. It has a small mattress with sheets and a blanket, and an old wood stove. She tosses another log into the fire, watching as it burns silently. She turns back, standing at the mouth of the cave. She was 17. She was considered a criminal in most of the cities along charta, and a traitor to most who even began to consider her as a friend. In her mind, she was a monster...a freak. A little girl, who's childhood was stripped from her, leaving her in the vast emptiness of life. Instead of cowering in the shadows, she made friends with it. She grew, and learned. She lowered her guard once, only to be pierced through the heart. Never again, she vowed. She shook her head slightly at her thoughts. It was a learning experience. Nothing more. She spins and heads for her cave. She would rest for now.