[ And at the end of all things, there is darkness.
There's a strange validation to it, as she looks upon what she assumes must be the fragmented pieces of her misbegotten existence. But it shifts and changes before her eyes and she sees pieces of her life, shards of people she once knew fluttering by. The Viper, the Fox. Amarys. Shaye resists the urge to reach out to her, brilliant beacon of light that she is. It sputters, darkens like everything else. It shrivels up and all that made her home something she loved - the cobblestone streets, the aging architecture, the looming tower - begins to fade away. If there are others here, be they people or memories, she pays them no mind. All that she was and all that her life might have been seems to fade away.
In a moment, everything is dark. Not a whimper, not a cry. A selfish clawing at what's left of her(?) seems to think, Good. Good, let it all burn. There was nothing left worth the blood and the pain it has asked of me. Of all of us.
But even that is swallowed by the emptiness, leaving not even numbness but void. ]
captivity. [ She should struggle. Some part of her wishes to, most certainly, like a frightened animal crowded too closely into a corner. But there is a cold detachment to it all, perhaps the numbness finally settling in, in the wake of witnessing such total destruction even if she cannot verify if any of it was true. If any of it could have been real. Just hours ago, she likely would have thought herself mad with despair or intoxicated beyond belief.
Perhaps she is and hasn't come around just yet. But all of this feels a little too painfully real for her to deny it, after all.
If there are others trying to fight, she shoots them a stony look that belies something simmering between frustration and exasperation, a scrap of emotion she manages to cobble together somehow. ]
You're like to get the rest of us killed, too, you know. [ No blades. No familiar burning in her blood. It's a surreal and frightening feeling, this lack of protection. Her voice is quiet and could be mistaken for soft if one isn't paying attention, though she's anything but. ] Keep your eyes on your surroundings. If nothing else, we should know the path.
[ Because if the opportunity presents itself, they should know how to get away and to find this place again. If they manage to. ]
waiting. (cw: implied self-harm for blood magic purposes) [ The ruins would be something to appreciate if they weren't all under watch. Not that she can blame them, not with how tempting it is to fight. The urge to try to fight is so, so tempting, but she's managed herself thus far. Enough that she seems the docile type and enough to earn her a little bit of distance...but certainly not enough for there to be funny business.
Her fingers long to skim the rock and they do, though briefly, as she doesn't want to seem like she's looking for anything in particular. Just a jagged piece of stone somewhere, anywhere, if it means she can shed a little blood. Perhaps the magic is only cloistered away and with a little coaxing--
Would they stop her in time? There must be something else she can do to distract. And there are others nearby, close enough she can get their attentions. It might work. Shaye sighs quietly. ]
Why continue to make us wait?
[ A ritual space. She can assume what will come next...but doesn't want to consider that for long. ]
( ooc: info here, please PM me with questions or any further info needed. please pardon my slow and rust, haven't touched the rp scene in a few years. )
shaye | oc | firebrand
There's a strange validation to it, as she looks upon what she assumes must be the fragmented pieces of her misbegotten existence. But it shifts and changes before her eyes and she sees pieces of her life, shards of people she once knew fluttering by. The Viper, the Fox. Amarys. Shaye resists the urge to reach out to her, brilliant beacon of light that she is. It sputters, darkens like everything else. It shrivels up and all that made her home something she loved - the cobblestone streets, the aging architecture, the looming tower - begins to fade away. If there are others here, be they people or memories, she pays them no mind. All that she was and all that her life might have been seems to fade away.
In a moment, everything is dark. Not a whimper, not a cry. A selfish clawing at what's left of her(?) seems to think, Good. Good, let it all burn. There was nothing left worth the blood and the pain it has asked of me. Of all of us.
But even that is swallowed by the emptiness, leaving not even numbness but void. ]
captivity.
[ She should struggle. Some part of her wishes to, most certainly, like a frightened animal crowded too closely into a corner. But there is a cold detachment to it all, perhaps the numbness finally settling in, in the wake of witnessing such total destruction even if she cannot verify if any of it was true. If any of it could have been real. Just hours ago, she likely would have thought herself mad with despair or intoxicated beyond belief.
Perhaps she is and hasn't come around just yet. But all of this feels a little too painfully real for her to deny it, after all.
If there are others trying to fight, she shoots them a stony look that belies something simmering between frustration and exasperation, a scrap of emotion she manages to cobble together somehow. ]
You're like to get the rest of us killed, too, you know. [ No blades. No familiar burning in her blood. It's a surreal and frightening feeling, this lack of protection. Her voice is quiet and could be mistaken for soft if one isn't paying attention, though she's anything but. ] Keep your eyes on your surroundings. If nothing else, we should know the path.
[ Because if the opportunity presents itself, they should know how to get away and to find this place again. If they manage to. ]
waiting. (cw: implied self-harm for blood magic purposes)
[ The ruins would be something to appreciate if they weren't all under watch. Not that she can blame them, not with how tempting it is to fight. The urge to try to fight is so, so tempting, but she's managed herself thus far. Enough that she seems the docile type and enough to earn her a little bit of distance...but certainly not enough for there to be funny business.
Her fingers long to skim the rock and they do, though briefly, as she doesn't want to seem like she's looking for anything in particular. Just a jagged piece of stone somewhere, anywhere, if it means she can shed a little blood. Perhaps the magic is only cloistered away and with a little coaxing--
Would they stop her in time? There must be something else she can do to distract. And there are others nearby, close enough she can get their attentions. It might work. Shaye sighs quietly. ]
Why continue to make us wait?
[ A ritual space. She can assume what will come next...but doesn't want to consider that for long. ]
( ooc: info here, please PM me with questions or any further info needed. please pardon my slow and rust, haven't touched the rp scene in a few years. )