Awakening (Onyx) SL

[DoS Archive]

From: onyxsolare@aol.com (OnyxSolare)
Date: 03 Nov 1999 21:43:04 EST


Flash.
Flash.

Flash. Flicker. Flash.

Ice cold splinters of light broke their way past the protective barrier of her lashes. Visions of heat, skin, blood and pleasure. Feelings of the heartbeat of the hunt. The odor of terror, the scent of home. Taste of shame, and the cry of triumph.

She saw the children, the endless pathetic pawns. She saw the flock of adults fattened by their own feast of ignorance. She saw the invisible rope tighten among their collective necks. Her soft eyes was no match for their hardened lips. Worthless.

The woods, the immersion in cool greens and comforting shadows surrounded her skin, a deep breath brought a sigh of such peace and pleasure. The pit and suddenly the pain. Dirty grabbing hands bore yellow gnarled grins of greed. The work, then the training. The task.

An ignorant girl, even worse, a headstrong girl. One lesson brought the only thing she knew to zero. Panic, pain. A key was turned, a lock fastened. Two were blended into one. Flight is no longer an option, fight is the only way out. She, a keystone perched on a hidden arch. The keystone that flexes and freezes with the winter and summers of her life. Crack. Crack.SIZE=5 PTSIZE=10> Crack.

A pillar, an imp, a seductress, comrade, enemy, sister, thorn. Offered hands ignored, offered hands taken with too small a grip. Sadness. Jealousy. Hope. Laughter. Nothing.

The body is left. What remains are ear, claw, sight, smell, speed, and instinct.

A battle, a friend to protect at all costs. Then.....knocked to a maze of darkness. Betrayal, indifference. Pain and constriction. Panic and pursuit. Capture.

Deep within her, bubbling to the surface, the secrets. A key is turning, the lock tumbles open.....
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::The light from underneath the door make the reddish lashes on her lids shudder and tremble as the chill in the air roughens her skin. Her unused muscles stiff with disuse and misuse barely control the hand raising to cover her eyes from the glare. Her throat works dryly in a swallow, resulting in a hushed gag. She tries again with some success to wet an arid tongue. Cracked and broken pottery litter the dim floor, bed clothes are torn to shreds
and dirtied with something she doesn't even want to acknowledge. Multiple gouges and marks are raked along the four close walls, the door bearing the most damage. The hand shielding her eyes is only able to bat away some of the stiffened and knotted hair by her left eye. The hands are filthy, not so much with dirt, but with wounds. A tattered feline ear hangs limply against a giant snarl of hair. Bruises are her clothing. Amber irises float
around a flashing and reflective pupil. Awareness within those eyes dip in and out with the sway of her hanging head. Teeth gnash hard on a lip already swollen and shredded.:

Flash. Flash. Flash.


...hel...p....?