One once filling with love for the worlds, hatred manifesting at her depths. A heart in bondage, her soul seeking the endless distance, wings desiring to soar. Agony incomparable, a body in pain, one grabbing hold of the smallest chance, grasping her freedom for a moment. Trouble setting in, years of torment coming forth. Emotions deep within, one envious of the happiness of others. Desperately holding onto what little she does have, rising to the challenges at hand. Once again, Cyra entering into the land filling with her fondest memories. Those blades of grass flowing in the wind, the warmth of the sun shining down.
Her eyes of distantness, one confining herself to her past. Even so, sometimes it is worth holding onto. A cycle never ceasing, one aiming in breaking through. Experiencing the gentleness of the breeze, embracing in its bliss. Running her hand through her hair, no doubt her pleasureful days will not be the same, but certainly the feeling can similarly return. Resting her vision forward, her mother standing beneath the tree. Faintly smiling, Cyra heading onward, the goddess awaiting her daughter. Even if it is a somber morrow, that effort being more than worth it. Grabbing hold of times so long ago, seeking the nigh impossible.
"You seem a bit different, Cyra." She softly speaks.
That experience inside of the graveyard, one facing herself. Years upon years of torment, that one envious of others, hatred at her core. A past binding her, leading her onward. Even if the morrow is of dreadfulness, it does not mean her path is set. That young woman resisting what is reason, paving her own way forward. Stopping a few feet away from her mother, placing her hand upon her waist. That maiden gazing up into the vast blue sky, thinking on times of yore. Closing her eyes for a moment, deeply inhaling and exhaling. Her vision opening, looking onward, her doubts settling a bit.
"Perhaps I have been wallowing too long in my own self pity, that I never did truly realize that fate is a fool's word." She gently responds.
Words lingering at her depths, one desperately resisting. Her life falling apart, the young woman unable to believe. Years going by, torment clawing away at her. That devil escaping her bondage, finding herself even further inside of the abyss. Even so, one capable of embracing it now. Slightly cracking a smile, that goddess well in awareness on her daughter's despair. Despite it all, that maiden finally leading her own future. An ill hand upon her, a birth that is of a curse. One taking her misfortune, bending it towards her desires. Sinfulness of it, but that is what it is meaning to live. Embracing these feelings, resisting what is reason. Passing her mother, extending Lævateinn, that woman looking onward. Staking her blade into the ground, Cyra's eyes of gentleness on the demon sword. Even through the deepest of darkness, there has always been one she can rely on.
A bond existing so long ago, two from worlds so far apart. Those differences bringing them together, a time of joy coming about for a moment. Malevolence exerting from her body, Cyra reaching her hand towards her weapon. Negativity flowing into the sword, darkness devouring it, extending towards the demon sword far in the background. That giant weapon holding her dream together, feelings of bliss residing in that grassy field. From behind, the shadowy figure taking form. Cyra glancing back, both nodding towards one another in agreement. That figure slowly dissipating, flowing into the body of the maiden. Closing her eyes, the halfbreed firmly gripping the handle of her blade. Another piece of the puzzle coming together, grim the path may be, but that is okay. Hope existing in the deepest of darkness, that will to resist continuously existing.
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"Are you truly going to go through with this?" her mother questions a bit distantly.
A heart seeking times so long ago, chains binding her in those darkest days. Experiences of bliss before her torment, two reaching for the nigh impossible. Even if the chances are minuscule at best, it is well worth holding onto. Wings desiring to soar once more, a soul wishing for the endless sky. That maiden opening her eyes, thinking on the question at hand. Faintly smiling, accepting this way going forward. Nothing truly of hopelessness, light existing in the deepest of blackness. Staining her soul in corruption, that will in opposing what is reason.
"Indeed, but I will never forget who I am." She looks back to her mother.
Desperately grabbing hold of what is rightfully her own, pushing through the relentless tides. One traveling in the farthest of abyss, a voice unable in reaching. No matter so, keeping true to herself. Those words setting her mother to ease, that goddess smiling at her daughter. Cyra walking up to the tree, facing the woman. That air growing thicker, the surrounding area brightening by the moment. Wind heavily blowing, Cyra embracing these emotions inside of her. One rising to the challenges, treading through that loneliness. That young woman witnessing her paradise slowly fading, much like a dream. Even so, welcoming it again at another time.
"I must be going now mother, until next time." Cyra softly speaks.
One existing in between the living and the dead, torment eternally upon her. A soul yearning for an end, that heart resisting the chains binding it. Memories forever with her, scars never healing. A devil desiring those times of bliss once more, where heaven and earth has been one. Two of differing worlds, those smaller points uniting them. Sitting down, Cyra bracing back against the tree. That maiden resting her vision onward, her surroundings becoming harder in envisioning. The heavy wind hitting against her, that dream disappearing by the second.
"Do take care, farewell for now..." That mother pleasantly responds.
Pain never relenting, suffering throughout the ages. Bliss in those times of yore, two facing their conflicts together. Companions traveling throughout the worlds, feelings growing deeper. No matter so, one remaining inside of his shell, the other patiently waiting. A dreadful night coming, words never reaching. Looking past her mother, that halfbreed seeing a small blurry figure walking in. Hard it is in clarifying the person, her vision slowly closing. Sleep setting in, that soul wishing for a rest, Cyra peacefully falling into a slumber. Sins staining her soul, yet her will in resisting feverishly persisting.
Even if it is but a somber morrow, then so be it. Endless possibilities existing out there, those times being of a chance once again. These desires of mine...they will be known...