Feelings so far within, agony gripping at the heart. One treading through the deepest of abyss, resisting the influence all around. Days of joy inside of the past, one reaching for those times. A somber morrow it may be, but that is okay. Darkness ever so deep inside, a plain of nothingness. That young woman moving through, the faintest light revealing, her hand trying to grasp it. Pleasureful this warmth is, everything brightening around her. A lawless world, the strong living and the weak perishing, this being of a reality. No matter so, that will to continue on taking hold. Rain bathing the grassy plains below, malevolence emitting from Lævateinn. That weapon crying out, one feeling the return of someone all too dear. That demon sword brilliantly shining, a pure white light extending from it. Malevolence seeping into the land, infusing into the demon.
From deep below the surface, that maiden awakening, feeling the pressure upon her. Tense her expression is, raising her hand, piercing the ground. That devil forcing her way above, her blade impaling into her chest. Those revolvers hanging off of the hilt, that sword soaking in her blood, the maiden hearing her weapon. Rising from the ground, her vision resting upon the sword impaling inside of her chest. That weapon crying out, happiness coming from it. That devil returning into the world of the living, a companion always rising to the challenge. A life of eternal torment, an existence without an end. Release not in death nor the living, one loathing the battlefield, yet always having to fight. Those eyes of sorrow, that young woman well in awareness that there is no going back. Even if she must keep treading down this path, there is some hope.
"Lævateinn..." She distantly speaks.
Through those numerous years, one continuously residing there. A weapon living through her suffering with her, unable to do anything. Hatred building over the years, that one returning after so very long. Those feelings of the demon sword reaching out, comforting it is. That maiden closing her eyes, listening to the crying of the weapon. Grabbing the hilt of her blade, swiftly pulling it out, swinging it to her right. Blood gushing out of her body, spilling onto the ground. That maiden taking a step back, dizziness coming over her.
Slowly shaking her head from left to right, her vision upon the dark cloudy sky, embracing the rain hitting against her. Pleasure in this field, those days of joy. Years upon years going by, that maiden standing within the grassy plain, an old friend going the extra mile. Holding her hand to her chest, faintly smiling. This place to her liking, one of fineness as her eternal ending. Even so, there is still much to do. Reaching for her revolvers, releasing them from the hilt of her sword. That young woman placing them away, some annoyance expressing from her. That method of her burial, an old friend leaving her in such a state.
"While I appreciate the burial, he could have at least removed the sword. When I find him, I am going to carve my mark into his hide..." Some frustration expressing from her.
The air of thickness, cold the surroundings are. That rain pouring down, a place of the past. Slightly looking down, a sigh escaping her. That young woman well in awareness on the respect his old friend is holding for her, one constantly doing what he is believing is best. Innocent he is, a heart most fragile. Two meeting after so long, a parting coming soon enough. No matter so, death simply being the beginning, a cycle repeating time and time and again. Despite it all, a faint light of hope revealing. Slowly shaking her head from left to right, that demon resting her vision onward.
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"A hero's burial is not for me." She calmly speaks, walking forward.
A field of vastness, rain endlessly descending, a devil making her way through the deepest of abyss. Despair clawing away at her, agony gripping her heart. Hatred boiling at her core, times of the past having a chance of becoming a reality. Memories of both pleasure and pain, one desiring an ending to her torment. Ceasing her movements, Cyra distantly gazing back to the tree. Two meeting years ago, one from so high, the other walking the land. An unlikely friendship, a bond holding strong. No matter so, distressing it is, one falling into the blackness far within them. That maiden hanging her head low, eyes of sorrowfulness. That wound of Lævateinn still upon her, her excruciating dread.
"Lævateinn cried...still...perhaps I was better off dead. A mother that cannot even save her own child, a mother who thought she was her child. Forgive me...Maria..." Her voice slightly quivering.
Her heavy heart, regret protruding from her eyes. One living a life that is not rightfully her own, disgust deep inside of her. A plan of a failure, her child following after her. That Tower of Time giving her a brief moment of freedom, even so, a mother trying to do everything possible to save her daughter. That feeling growing worse by the moment, a thousand years of ignorance. Memories mixing with another, an old friend bringing her back to her senses. Torment gripping at her, tiring it is upon her.
"No matter what I do...I can never right this wrong. Even so...I am alive now, and I have some work left to complete." She distantly utters.
A wrong ever so great, a burden upon the soul. Even through it all, one continuing onward, reaching her hand out in this game of chance. Despair may surround her, yet there is the faintest light. Resting her vision on her gauntlet, that weapon no longer of any use. Destruction during the battle with her old friend, a reminder of the severity. That young woman slowly inhaling and exhaling, raising her head, distantly gazing into the cloudy sky. That devil embracing the coming rain, feeling it hitting against her face. Cold it is, refreshing in all actuality. One accepting the wrong she has done, realizing the results of such. Weight upon her shoulders, even so, only one path remaining going forward. Her desires ever so far within, her deepest wish connecting to it all. Even if she must push further, that wrong she will try to right. No matter of the trial, one extending her hand for a lost opportunity so long ago.
This is the path I have chosen. In order to return to such a time, I will carve my way forward...
High above the clouds, a massive beast soaring along. That head of a dragon, the body in resemblance to a serpent. Malevolence burning from it, a leviathan it is. That young woman resting her eyes on the clouds, witnessing the shifting formation. Those clouds slowly spiraling, Cyra squinting her eyes. That maiden stepping forward, her vision upon the beast penetrating the thickness of it all. Moving back, her vision of unease, the monster moving down towards her. That beast resting its eyes on her, darkness intensifying, anger expressing from it. Letting out a mighty roar, massive shockwaves ripping through. Those assaults repeatedly striking the area, Cyra blocking the intensity of the attacks. The surrounding land slowly breaking apart, rubble flying into the air. Holding her ground, witnessing the monster landing some distance away from her, those eyes of hers fixating on the situation ahead.
Lowering her arms, that beast menacingly growling at her. The young woman taking notice of its hostility, something being amiss. Malevolence burning from the monster, pressure intensifying inside of the area. Actions on hold, peculiar it is. That devil slowly motioning her hand towards her blade, the leviathan carefully observing, witnessing her gripping the hilt of her weapon. Alarm coming over it, a fearsome roar escaping it once more. Standing to her side, directing the demon sword at the monster ahead. Those eyes of the young woman steadily growing more confident, this situation of strangeness.
"Stand aside." She calmly states.