Post by Rinalya on Apr 6, 2008 10:00:27 GMT -8
Dark violet eyes stared at the tall twisted mirror, appraising the being within. Each hand held the sides of the mirror, the grip tightening on the worn ebony border as she critically dissected her own appearance with her eyes. Viciously the eyes slid to her bared shoulders, caressed by scars she never asked for, some of which she had given herself if only to find a distraction and release from what she had gone through at the time. Fingers lifted, probing the shoulder, feeling up the markings, coming to the saddening and frustrating realization that these marks, no matter how much time given, would never go away. She continued to slid her fingers down and up her neck, pulling back her hair, and then both hands came up to her face.
Rinalya could still see a beautiful face beneath the scars, but her mind would have it now that it seemed ruined, broken and pathetic. Her mouth twisted into a pained broken line as she felt the pain of something invisible come over her again, reliving the memory. The mage fell forward, crashing to her knees unceremoniously, a dagger surfacing from her robes in the delusion of the moment.
The room around her was vastly and completely empty, her room in the clan's hall. Even if there had been someone in the room, she would have ignored them, in her desolation.
The dagger weaved through the air almost of its own accord, but at the last second she came to her senses, the dagger pricking her arm. A trickle of blood began to weave its way down her forearm and her hand released the blade, listening in silence as it fell to the floor with a clatter. Instantly falling back into habit, she whipped out a bandage and immediately put pressure on the four inch cut now on her arm, and quickly wrapped it up, letting it fall into the realm of ignorance again.
Her gaze was pulled back to the mirror. So pathetic, She thought, Weak, decadent foolish scrap of a failing mage... Her bare right hand tightened into a fist, a cursed bone flicking up from a hidden pocket in one of her sleeves, and as her body began to shake, she flicked it into the air and called forth the magic, feeling the darkness consume her momentarily, almost comfortingly, as it burned into a blue monstrous light and smashed into the mirror. Shards flew everywhere as she threw up an arm. It was loud and dangerous, a foolish act done in anger.
She lowered her cut up arm, realizing that her face felt the slightest bit wet. She had cut across her jawline unintentionally.
Again the mage fell back into habit, retrieving another bandage, and then another. She cleaned up her face and knelt to the floor this time to retrieve the dagger, slipping it back into the folds of her clothing, before putting the comforting black cloak over her body to hide it, to swallow her appearance, and disappeared out the door.
Across the room, the mirror smoked, not entirely broken, but burnt and melted beyond any normal capacity, the mess left as it was; with ashes on the floor and walls, shards everywhere, and the tiniest bit of blood on the floor.
Rinalya could still see a beautiful face beneath the scars, but her mind would have it now that it seemed ruined, broken and pathetic. Her mouth twisted into a pained broken line as she felt the pain of something invisible come over her again, reliving the memory. The mage fell forward, crashing to her knees unceremoniously, a dagger surfacing from her robes in the delusion of the moment.
The room around her was vastly and completely empty, her room in the clan's hall. Even if there had been someone in the room, she would have ignored them, in her desolation.
The dagger weaved through the air almost of its own accord, but at the last second she came to her senses, the dagger pricking her arm. A trickle of blood began to weave its way down her forearm and her hand released the blade, listening in silence as it fell to the floor with a clatter. Instantly falling back into habit, she whipped out a bandage and immediately put pressure on the four inch cut now on her arm, and quickly wrapped it up, letting it fall into the realm of ignorance again.
Her gaze was pulled back to the mirror. So pathetic, She thought, Weak, decadent foolish scrap of a failing mage... Her bare right hand tightened into a fist, a cursed bone flicking up from a hidden pocket in one of her sleeves, and as her body began to shake, she flicked it into the air and called forth the magic, feeling the darkness consume her momentarily, almost comfortingly, as it burned into a blue monstrous light and smashed into the mirror. Shards flew everywhere as she threw up an arm. It was loud and dangerous, a foolish act done in anger.
She lowered her cut up arm, realizing that her face felt the slightest bit wet. She had cut across her jawline unintentionally.
Again the mage fell back into habit, retrieving another bandage, and then another. She cleaned up her face and knelt to the floor this time to retrieve the dagger, slipping it back into the folds of her clothing, before putting the comforting black cloak over her body to hide it, to swallow her appearance, and disappeared out the door.
Across the room, the mirror smoked, not entirely broken, but burnt and melted beyond any normal capacity, the mess left as it was; with ashes on the floor and walls, shards everywhere, and the tiniest bit of blood on the floor.
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I'll throw up another post maybe tonight, just need to find a good song and then get into the mode.))
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