- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- Weekends, I tend to have buckets of time unless I'm working or traveling (I'll let you know), then I'm scarce af. During the week, I work pretty standard 9-5, then go to class or the gym, so....8-11 PM Pacific?
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Douche
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- I'm open to more than I'm closed to. If it doesn't fall under gratuitous or inorganic (forced) romance, pitch me an idea, and we'll work it out.
The screaming didn't stop right away. It couldn't. That was impossible. The screaming had become her whole world. There were no other colors or sounds or experiences. The rutted forest was gone, as was the burning sea of sand, and the hot, dark blood beneath her. The worm's corpse, the Aavan, Risa's face. All of it, gone, all of it replaced by one, endless scream. For a time, she wasn't sure whether the scream was even hers. It was everything, time included, and had been for much longer than she.
And then something changed.
She wasn't sure what it was, and couldn't have put a name to it if she tried. There was some small, soft break in the scream, an ephemeral reminder that things existed outside of the scream, beyond the scream. The threw herself at it with everything she had. The scream continued on around her, and she held on all the tighter.
And then, little by little, the screaming faded, becoming a dry, gasping sob. She was vaguely aware someone was holding her, touching her. She was vaguely aware there was a her to be held. The sobbing became quiet, hoarse whimpers, and other sensations began to return. Her throat hurt. She was afraid. She could feel another presence there, keeping the screaming at bay.
She did not know how long she sat there, curled into a fetal position, a weary scream dying on her lips. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to know. But slowly, slowly, she began to return to herself -- and to Mori.
The name was there loud and clear and bright now, whether she liked it or not. It was he who was holding her, he who had provided the seed of calm, just long enough for her to find her way out.
The questions, the horror of it all, that was still there. That she had killed so many so effortlessly...that would cost her. That she had done so with a power she ought not to have had was all the more disturbing. And the implications of Risa's death...
Rora shuddered, a quiet whimper sounding in the back of her throat. But it was all she had the energy for. As Mori crouched there, keeping the horror of the power classes and the killings and Risa's death and what it all meant at bay, physical sensations began to assault her. Whatever she was, whatever she had done, it came at a cost. Dismantling the worm, impaling it. Uprooting the trees. Crumbling rock.
Her stomach churned suddenly and she pushed away on unsteady feet to be sick as far from the carnage she had caused as she could manage. She was will, retching and coughing and retching again, until her stomach was empty and her vision swam. When she returned to Mori, her plea was simple.
She wanted to ask what he'd done -- what she'd done -- how he had once again saved her from the brink of her own destruction. She wanted to ask him why, and whether he could do it again. She wanted to ask if she was the one who killed Risa.
But the calm he'd provided kept those thoughts at bay, and so she clung to this new, physical anguish, easier by far to deal with.
Very quietly, and as humbly as she'd ever spoken to him, she said, "I don't want to be here anymore. Please. Please, Mori."
And then something changed.
She wasn't sure what it was, and couldn't have put a name to it if she tried. There was some small, soft break in the scream, an ephemeral reminder that things existed outside of the scream, beyond the scream. The threw herself at it with everything she had. The scream continued on around her, and she held on all the tighter.
And then, little by little, the screaming faded, becoming a dry, gasping sob. She was vaguely aware someone was holding her, touching her. She was vaguely aware there was a her to be held. The sobbing became quiet, hoarse whimpers, and other sensations began to return. Her throat hurt. She was afraid. She could feel another presence there, keeping the screaming at bay.
She did not know how long she sat there, curled into a fetal position, a weary scream dying on her lips. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to know. But slowly, slowly, she began to return to herself -- and to Mori.
The name was there loud and clear and bright now, whether she liked it or not. It was he who was holding her, he who had provided the seed of calm, just long enough for her to find her way out.
The questions, the horror of it all, that was still there. That she had killed so many so effortlessly...that would cost her. That she had done so with a power she ought not to have had was all the more disturbing. And the implications of Risa's death...
Rora shuddered, a quiet whimper sounding in the back of her throat. But it was all she had the energy for. As Mori crouched there, keeping the horror of the power classes and the killings and Risa's death and what it all meant at bay, physical sensations began to assault her. Whatever she was, whatever she had done, it came at a cost. Dismantling the worm, impaling it. Uprooting the trees. Crumbling rock.
Her stomach churned suddenly and she pushed away on unsteady feet to be sick as far from the carnage she had caused as she could manage. She was will, retching and coughing and retching again, until her stomach was empty and her vision swam. When she returned to Mori, her plea was simple.
She wanted to ask what he'd done -- what she'd done -- how he had once again saved her from the brink of her own destruction. She wanted to ask him why, and whether he could do it again. She wanted to ask if she was the one who killed Risa.
But the calm he'd provided kept those thoughts at bay, and so she clung to this new, physical anguish, easier by far to deal with.
Very quietly, and as humbly as she'd ever spoken to him, she said, "I don't want to be here anymore. Please. Please, Mori."