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last of a dying breed || lev's prompts

Posted: Tue May 19, 2020 7:41 pm
by leverage

a place for some casual writing depending on what strikes me

stay tuned for more information

prompt: if you want me, come and get me

Posted: Tue May 19, 2020 11:52 pm
by leverage
    • if you want me, come and get me || featuring asuna and ren || wc 710 || warnings for violence, gore

      Blood mingled with stone and sand, marking the final stands of the Midday Sun warriors.

      Twisted bodies littered the earth; tossed aside like ragdolls, hitting the ground with sickening thuds. The sound of final breaths, of last words tossed to the winds of the unforgiving land, echoed in Asuna’s mind. Grit of the desert left a foul taste in her mouth; she spat into the dust, the land red with the lifeblood of her companions.

      Before her, the hellhound, all oily black fur and maw of yellowed teeth, shoved its nose into the leg of an archer, lifting the limb briefly before it fell unceremoniously back to earth. It hadn’t noticed her yet; the demonic spawn consumed by the chaos it had wrought. This was Asuna’s chance. Her companions lay dead or dying; the family she had formed among them gone. The sensation of the cloth wrapping of her sword’s hilt pressing back against her tight grip grounded her, tying her to this physical realm. The loss friends would hit her soon, the pain would hit like that of white-hot iron: dulled at first by the raw heat, only to break her very being with suffering. She had one last chance, the opportunity to avenge their falls or join in their fate.

      Asuna rose to her feet, pushing off of the shifting sands with her free hand, the other holding her sword before her. Her movement drew the beast’s attention; red eyes narrowing, the hellhound turned its bared snarl towards her. Even from here, she could smell the stink of its breath, and see the crimson of blood smeared on its maw.

      “If you want me,” the heroine panted, looking past her blade to stare into the red eyes of the fiend, “Come and get me.”

      The hellhound required no such invitation.

      Nails dug into the dirt, it lunged, jaws open in a fearsome growl. Asuna lashed out with a flash of silver, her blade pulling open a cut under the beast’s eye, drawing oily black blood from the fresh would. Though the hellhound yelped, feigning away from the cutting blade, it’s bloodlust could not be deterred by steel alone. When it lurched towards her again, Asuna’s blade bounced against bone, but the creature did not hesitate.

      Asuna found herself pushed back, the earth coming to meet her body with a sickening crack of bone. She gasped; her lungs suddenly starved for air, though for all she tried to inhale, no relief came. Her sword clattered against stone, far from the reach of her outstretched hand, stained in the demonic blood of her foe, now useless. A few feet away, caught in the maw of the hellhound, eyes widened in mortal fear and boundless pain, was Ren.

      Trapped by the failure of her own lungs, fighting against the pain of cracked ribs, Asuna could not move, her fingers falling short of her sword, her eyes transfixed on the red stain growing on Ren’s robes. She was without the ability, off-balance from pushing Asuna aside, no weapon in her hands. An expression of terror and shock was frozen on the woman’s face; a terror, Asuna saw, was not from the fangs which pierced her abdomen nor the fury of the hellhound’s attack, but the terror of losing the one she loved.

      Asuna was not the hero who slayed the beast. Asuna was the lover saved by her love, pushed to the earth so the beast’s fangs drew Ren’s blood, not her own.

      It took but one shake of the hellhound’s head to halt Ren’s final breath, broken like a snapped the spine of a rabbit.

      Her body was tossed to the earth besides Asuna, the beast tired of his plaything. The warrior was still; unable to move, not daring to breath, as she watched her lover’s body bleed into the sand, Ren’s life traded for her own survival. She watched as the beast turned away from the scene of its own destruction, wandering further into Asuna’s kingdom, to wreak havoc on the nation’s poor innocents, the warriors who were tasked to stop it dead or dying in its tracks. She lay there, still, until the heavens fell over the Sun Kingdom, until it was too dark to distinguish blood from sand.

prompt: the human mind

Posted: Wed May 27, 2020 3:22 am
by leverage
    • the human mind is truly the scariest thing of all || featuring caelus || wc 435

      Memories of Magdriel never dared show their faces in the light of day. Hunters of the night, possessing of long claws to drag over him the curtains of his own subconsciousness, jagged teeth to reopen the wounds of the past. How he longed for scar tissue to grow over those reminders, covering the sensitive consciousness in self-protection. What he wouldn’t give to trade awareness for acceptance, sensation for apathy. The fiends of recollection never allowed to blood to dry, much less for wounds to heal. A victim of his own nightmares.

      Green eyes open to the sight of embers dying, the last glow of the fire quickly fading. Still, the light was too bright for the dead of night, leaving the young man ducking into his bedroll if only to protect his sight. The forest sounds, always on the edge of his awareness, haunted him at night; the ghouls and imps conjured in the shadows by an active imagination rivaling the pain of his past. Looking outwards was a welcome distraction, a world away from his own mind; and yet, he knew that the internal threats were far more dangerous. While the foes of the waking world could draw blood and shorten his breath, the foes of his past tore at his very being, dragging him back to his youth in a frenzy of retribution and guilt.

      Caelus’s eyes slowly adjusted to the low light of the wilderness forests. The dying embers and the distant light of a waning moon cast the clearing in shadows. The endless void of the heavens above, the trees rising around him like bars of a cage, this existence was truly the young man’s prison. A cell of his own making, self-isolation far from the soulless bustle of cities or the murmur of rumor on the wind.

      Here, he was alone, companionless, save for the memories which haunted the night. Thoughts of Magdriel which once brought him comfort, brought him solace when alone, now carried with them an eerie tinge. The stains of her pure blood spilled into the earth cast his memories in red.

      How innocent they had been. How they thought their secrecy would save them. When they never thought they would die for their sins.

      Caelus tucked his knees to his chest, arms clutched around himself as though he could hold together his shattered spirit. In his memories, the demons still preyed on him; hunters who never abandoned their prey. Creatures of his own creation, his own blood in their veins and his own flesh staining their teeth.

      The mind is truly the scariest thing of all.