#sobbing and weeping wailing in utter despair and agony

[annqer]

“I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.”

[fish-condition]

One managed to evade capture, escape the monsters’ notice

She was the smallest of her sisters, still too shy to raise her voice very high, not that they had minded, and shared any food they’d caught with her anyways. It was any other hunt, her sisters were singing, though this meal had been more persistent than usual. She’d thought nothing of it though, her sisters were strong. And then it all went wrong

She could do nothing as the cruel men dragged them onto their ship, could do nothing but look on in utter horror and despair as their bodies, hacked in half, had been heartlessly thrown from the ship to sink into dark waters, to drown. The poor littlest could not even try to save them, lest the monsters on the boat see her and catch her too. She was helpless, distraught, alone, unable to truly comprehend what had just happened. So she did the only thing she could think of, she started swimming as fast as she could.

She swam for hours, or days, maybe even weeks, she couldn’t be certain, but she didn’t stop, pushing herself forward, propelled through the waters by agony and fear and pain. Until the water got dark, and the rocks got jagged, and she knew she’d found herself in a place even her brave sisters had never dared approach.

With the last of her strength the little sister threw herself up out of the water and onto one of the large stones and sang, wailing, a heartbroken desperate lament, a scream, a sob, a last ditch effort.

Just as she could sing no more and collapsed to the stone, the water around her churned violently and she felt a massive presence looming over her. The little sister tensed, prepared for one of the massive eels to swallow her whole without a second thought, but no pain came. After a moment, a massive hand, near the size of the monster’s ship, lifted her from the rock with surprising gentleness and brought her up, up, up, until two glassy dark eyes, as big as the moon above, peered at her.

The little sister could barely lift herself, so tired from her journey, that all she could do was lay in the palm of this hand and weep quietly. All at once a voice rumbled out “Hello, little fish. I heard your song, what happened to your sisters.” The little sister could only muster the strength to choke out “Here, they are coming here… they killed them… monsters…”

The giant eyes did not blink, and for a moment, all was still. Until a low laugh rumbled through the dark and the damp. “Monsters hmm? We shall see about that soon enough. Worry not, little one, there will be blood for your blood, as is written.”

Relief poured through the little sister, along with a bone deep weariness. She had pushed her body to its limit, her poor heart exhausted and petering.

The hand lowered her ever so slightly and the little sister found herself looking up at the full face of the lair’s inhabiter. “You are going now, are you little fish?” It was strange, for a creature so large, her voice was actually rather soft. The little sister nodded slightly, her whole body felt heavy and slow. “When all is done,” The voice assured her. “You and your sisters will be returned home, the nymphs will see to it.”

The little sister nodded once, weakly, as her breaths rasped in her chest. She could not be there to see the monsters done in the way they had butchered her sisters. But all would be well, she thought as her eyes closed, Scylla would see to it

“Sleep, little one,” a large finger ever so gently brushed over her hair. “There are no monsters here.”

And she drifted off to the distant songs of her sisters

[sayurifellfrost]

Prompt #21: Grave

Character: S'tchuma Nunh

Age: 47

A wail of sheer despair cut through the air within the encampment, the heartache which caused it felt by all present. S’tchuma could do little but stare, grief gripping his heart as he mutely regarded the sight before him.

S’lhevrha, his eldest daughter, laid upon a cot - features locked in perpetual agony and several deep gashes digging into her torso, lifeless. S’ramaia’s arms were locked around her, the woman crying out her anguish as she rocked back and forth with the young woman’s body.

He could scarcely believe his eyes, she had been alive a mere few hours ago.. Spoken to him, gleefully. Overjoyed that she was going to take her sister out to–...

S’tchuma’s ears pinned back and his blood red eyes widened as he turned to one of the hunters who had brought the girl’s body in.

“...Vexrha. Where is Vexrha?”

“.. I.. know not, Tchuma..” The Huntress lowered her head seemingly in shame. “She was.. Not present. We saw no sign of her, and people are still looking for her.”

“Oh, Warden..”

He felt his hand grasped, attention immediately sinking to the weeping S’ramaia, who squeezed his hand tightly.

“..O-oh.. Our-.. Our poor little girls..” She sobbed, her head lowering. “..If-.. If Vexrha.. saw this happen..”

S’tchuma frowned deeply, curling his free hand around S’ramaia’s head gently to push her head against his torso, gently brushing his fingers along her hair as he did his utmost to compose himself, despite wanting nothing but to scream out his grief.

“.. Surely there’s a trail? Her flames..”

The Huntress shook her head faintly.

“.. I fear whoever killed Lhevrha.. Took Vexrha.”

The mere suggestion pried another anguished sound from S’ramaia, causing S’tchuma to hush softly at the woman, combing his fingers through her locks continuously in an attempt to soothe her.

Yet how could he soothe such a pain? To lose your eldest and youngest daughter in one fell swoop?

.. No. S’vexrha was not yet lost. They could still find her.

“.. Gather your best trackers, I’ll lead the search.” His gaze moved to S’lhevrha’s body, his features sinking into a sorrowful expression.

The Huntress bowed and disappeared out of the tent, incoherent orders being shouted out. S’tchuma slowly released S’ramaia and moved over to the cot, slowly settling his bare hand upon his lifeless daughter’s cheek. A soft, tormented sound left him, as he found himself unable to truly keep himself at bay any longer - tears slowly brimming up in his eyes. S’ramaia gripped his hand anew, squeezing it tightly before the Nunh turned to face her. He raised his hand and settled it upon her cheek, a thumb lightly caressing her cheek.

“.. We will find Vexrha, Ramaia.. In the meantime.. Could you ensure Lhevrha’s burial is.. seen to?”

The fact they had to bury their child made both of their hearts ache, but S’ramaia’s head sank into a slow nod all the same.

“..W-we’ll find a n-nice spot.. A-and plant her.. f-favourite flowers on her.. g-grave..” She sniffled. “.. P-please.. Find Vexrha.. She-.. she must be so scared..”

“... Warden as my witness, I will not stop looking for her until she is home.”

S’tchuma managed to steel his voice enough to utter the sentence confidently, gaining a small nod from S’ramaia in return. He leaned down to lightly press his lips against her crown before standing upright again, passing another glance to S’lhevrha’s body before he withdrew out the tent.

To simply sit around while others searched for his youngest was not an option, as much as it pained him to leave S’ramaia to grieve without him.

He had to do this, lest he crumbled, too.

[huntress1024]

The Missing Priestess

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Zamira Nightbloom (f!elfmc)

Summary: Takes place after Ch. 14 as Zamira struggles with the idea that Nia is gone. I stayed up all night writing this, so there’s LOTS of angst, hope you enjoy!! :) Lemme know if you wanna be tagged for future fanfics!

Taglist: @queerbrujas @choicesloversstuff @princessstellaris​

The Whitetower throne room, once pristine and tranquil, is now a rotting space crawling with shadows. I stand in the center of it all, the exact spot where the portal had ripped through the very fabric of time hours earlier, stealing the girl who had become a sister to me as she begged for her friends to help her, and we all watched helplessly, victims to the shadow coils that paralyzed us. Flakes of ash drift down from the obsidian chandelier, scratching the areas of my skin it settles on. Every step I take feels as if the torturous shadows from before are wrapped around my joints, making each movement impossibly slow. I grit my teeth, Nia’s desperate plea of “Find me…” giving me the strength to push through and reach the nearest corridor.

That’s when I hear her screaming.

It is wordless, eternal agony that comes from everywhere and nowhere, but it burns the shadows off me more than any Cleansing Fire could, and my instincts stripped bare from the terror send me hurtling after them as they flood down the hall. The screams lead the shadows and me to the decaying, former Temple of Light, but the scene playing out before me says it is now a Temple of Darkness.

Prince Aerin Valleros, a King of Shadow, holds the blade formed from the Shards to Nia’s throat, a wicked smile splitting his lifeless face. Nia’s hands are clenched into shaking fists, the Light flickering on and off from them. The blade’s shadows writhe against her skin, causing her to unleash another blood-curdling scream. I shriek her name, lunging for her, but the shadows return and slam me against a pillar with a mighty crack, wrapping their freezing hands around my throat to hold me in place.

Aerin grips Nia tightly, forcing her to move to the edge of the crumbling, gaping pit where our party had freed the soon-to-be sacrificed prisoners earlier that day, a lifetime ago. Except this time, the sight of these prisoners makes Nia wail in defeat, flailing in Aerin’s stone-cold arms, trying to use the last of her strength to escape the horrible deed she must commit. An immense rumbling fills the Temple as the floor from the pit slowly rises to the surface, revealing the faces awaiting execution.

Mal. Imtura. Threep. The sight of the final prisoner’s face has me screaming till my lungs give out, and it is Tyril’s sorrowful gaze that is the last thing I see before the shadows consume me.

I lurch up from the bed, heart pounding. My lungs greedily gulp down the air to reassure myself that the choking grip of the shadows was all a bad dream, and my surroundings support the realization. The guest bedroom I was given when we first arrived to Whitetower has not changed, even though everything else has. The moonlight softens the gilded walls and furniture, lightening the room in a way impossible for the world from my nightmare.

That same glow allows me to see the sleeping figure beside me, the moonlight bathing his pale blue skin to show me that he is here, and he is alive.  I bring my shaking fingers to his lips, his cheekbones, his long, dark lashes that always flutter open in the morning to reveal the deep-set ocean gaze underneath, and I feel my racing heart begin to settle.  

Careful not to make a sound, I ease the sheets off and walk over to the window, my slip clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. Standing in the light of the waning crescent, I notice the bruises that travel up my arms, and become aware of the dull ache in my muscles.

And then I remember everything.

Aerin, someone I thought I could count on, dragging Nia through the portal to the gods-damned Shadow Realm. I remember fighting in vain to reach her, the utter panic coursing through my veins. And worst of all, I remember her parting words before she was sucked into the void and stolen from our party.

“Find me…”.

Nia Ellarious, the most pure-hearted, kind, loving soul I have ever known, has been taken to the Shadow Realm. Her piety and strength in the Light caught Aerin’s attention to see if she could be a worthy host for the Dreadlord, the worst of them all.

Another person I love, lost to that wretched world. When Kade was taken, Nia swore to help me save him without hesitation, that very selflessness being the thing I loved instantly about her.

All Kade did was protect me, and I let my immature fantasies of adventure get in the way of doing the same for him. I promised Scholar Vash, on his dying breath, that I would protect Nia and keep her safe during the journey I couldn’t help but feel responsible for.

I have failed them both.

In the tumultuous hours following Nia’s capture, Tyril was able to keep Mal, Imtura, and me levelheaded enough from tearing the palace down, and we were able to explain to King Arlan everything we had witnessed and come to learn about the Shadow Court, and his own son’s treachery. He granted us one last night of stay in his palace and ordered us to use every waking hour we had to search Aerin’s private chambers for any hidden resources detailing a way to access a portal to the Realm of Shadow. Tyril was wary of the idea, and I remember snapping at him that we had no other choice. I remember the hurt on his face and my immediate guilt, for he too felt the loss of Nia like the rest of us, and still deeply felt the loss of Kaya. I showed my regret to him earlier in the night when we returned to my room through hesitant, searching kisses, but he returned them with fervor, and I knew from his gentle touch that all was forgiven.

They were successful distractions, ransacking Aerin’s room and losing myself in Tyril, but here, in the quiet, unforgiving hours of the night, nothing could stop the despair from flooding my heart and causing the room around me to shrink.

The view of the moon from my window consumed me in memories of sitting around a fire, first with Kade, Nia, and Scholar Vash, then just Nia and Mal, and soon the remaining members of our party had joined. It was those memories of her laugh, her attentiveness and encouragement towards everyone who spoke and shared a story, that do me in. I feel my shoulders begin to shake, and my vision grows blurry from the tears threatening to spill. I raise my hand to my mouth, pressing it fiercely against my lips to stifle the cries, but a whimper escapes anyways, and that is my undoing. Great, heaving sobs rack my body, and the only coherent thought I have is I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, until eventually they become a part of the sobs and are no longer silent words. I don’t know how long I say them, how long I weep, before strong arms wrap around me and pull me close. I bury my head in his chest, instantly recognizing the scent and feel of him, and I let him gently caress my hair, whispering my name again and again like one would calm a scared animal. Although I suppose I am not acting too different from one.

Tyril kisses lightly along my jawline, catching my tears as they fall, and I hold onto him tighter. When the sobs finally switch to hiccups, he pulls back and brushes my hair from my face. I meet those eyes lit with a star-kissed storm, and I’m brought back to the reality of the moment, safe in his arms, the moon shining down on us.

I press my face against his neck, the coolness of it a welcoming reprieve to my fevered skin. “I’m sorry I woke you,” I say, the words coming out in a hoarse breath.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Zamira. Nothing.” He doesn’t have to say what he means.

I stroke the back of his neck with my callused fingers, the fresh pain of it all still lingering when I sigh. “I wish I could believe you.”

He nuzzles his face in my hair, breathing me in deeply. “Do you remember what you told me after we faced the egovore?” I shake my head, sniffling. “You told me there was goodness in hoping, and I should never let anyone take it from me.”

Tyril’s voice cracks with emotion as he breathes, “And in the catacombs, I told you that it is my love for you, and for our friends, that will strengthen me.” He cups my chin in his hand, tipping my face up so I can look him in the eyes. “You taught me that it is fighting for what we love, not against what we hate, that will be the force that ends this.”

He brushes a kiss across my forehead, so soft and full of hope, before continuing. “When the sun comes up, we will leave this palace, and we will continue to fight. Not against the Shadow Court, but for Kade. For Nia.” It is the earnestness with which he says those words, the same faith he has that the stars brought us together all the way from opposing sides of Morella so that we may cross paths, that allows me to believe him.

When his lips meet mine, it is hope that courses through us, stronger and just as tangible as the Light itself.

[tallestsilver]

For the edgar allen poe thing: 13 for e/c

“Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The blood pounded in Christine’s ears. Everything was happening too quickly and had become a blur. Sweat - or was it blood - stung her eyes, mixing with the grime that had smeared over her entire body.

Erik was spouting off nonsense about insects, the likes of which she had no idea of what he was speaking. She was dizzy with fear and from the rag soaked in chloroform he had pressed to her face hours before. Her memory was hazy and she just wanted to leave. Her sinuses flooded as a fresh wave of tears streamed down her face, leaving salty, clean streaks on her dirty face. She was drowning in this horror.Erik was speaking to her once again. She couldn’t make out his words, so she simply shook her head and moaned in agony as the throbbing increased tenfold. She began to hit her head once more against the wall, trying desperately to end everything she was feeling.Christine wanted blissful numbness.Erik cried out in an angelic wail as she thudded her head over and over again. He rushed to her side, pulling her away so she could no longer injure herself.His unmasked face, horrid and wretched as ever, grimaced in a sincere look of concern. Christine screamed and flailed, lashing out as hard as she could against his skeletal frame to get away from his embrace.“No more of this, Christine. Erik cannot have you hurting yourself. Now is not the time for your demise!” He declared, sounding more and more frantic as she tried to pry herself from his clutches. “NO!” She screamed. He visibly winced, whether it was her dissent against him or the carelessness she had in regard to her voice at the moment, she was not certain. Christine wanted to fly away as expediently as she could.Hadn’t Erik often referred to her as a songbird?

She wept and lunged back to her saving grace, the only escape she could see, suicide.However, Erik clutched at her more tightly, despite her volatile protests. “Christine, please!” Erik moaned. He grasped her shoulders fiercely and slightly shook her, to demand that she look upon his face and earnestness. “You must compose yourself. You are not allowed to die presently.” A shadow of malice flickered on his features, “no-” he said, although not entirely to Christine. Her crying stifled down into silent tears steadily streaming down her face with only the occasional sniffle, “-that comes later. All of Paris shall know it,” his voice rumbled and Christine shudder under its power. “11 o’clock, tomorrow night,” his features remained dark but his voice suddenly joyful. “That is when we are allowed to die.” 

Christine released a coughing sob, she tried to suppress, but her despair proved too great. Erik scooped her up in his arms, and her arms and legs resumed their desperate flailing.“UnHAND me!” She screeched, squirming and hitting him as best as she could muster, her body feeling heavy and arms leadened in misery. Erik seemed unfazed by her blows. Instead, he placed her as gently as he could on the bed - her bed - his knee pressed against her chest holding her down. Christine trembled and whimpered, terrified of her comprised situation. Erik was being highly erratic and she had no conceivable idea what his next course of action would be. Would this be his breaking point?Erik busied himself with something she could not see, and this time her cries were higher pitched and laced with pure unadulterated terror. Erik immediately ceased his actions, releasing his hold from her, and instead cupped her cheeks.“Christine!” He begged, “why do you cry so?”“You’re going to- you’re going to-!” She couldn’t bring herself to utter what she knew Erik was planning to do. Thrown onto a soft bed, being held down, the one thing she thought Erik would never do-

Erik’s eyes widened in understanding and he gasped, taking a step back away from Christine as she wept openly and defeated. “I would NEVER!” He cried with her, moaning and lamenting. “Christine, all I wish is for you to love me! Love me for myself! Can’t you see, my love?” He held her face to look at him once more, “I have gone mad with love for you. I could be as gentle as a lamb if all you were to do was to love me!” Christine refused to look at him any longer and she shook her head. He took the opportunity of her refusal to see what he was doing and bound her ankles together and then her wrists.“Erik, I HATE you!” She declared. He nodded as he tightened her bindings. “Erik hates himself as well,” he told her sullenly. “The world hates Erik. This is not new information to me.”“All my life, I have been told to be kind, to find love in all things. Never to show or express hate to anyone because I do not know their circumstances.” Christine’s voice surprised even herself in how authoritative it sounded, “Because of the love I have known, despite everything that has transpired, I show kindness. But now! Years of love have been forgot in the hatred of a minute! I HATE YOU!”

Her gaze pierced Erik straight through him. Now it was he who could not look directly at her. He hung his head in shame and nodded. “So be it,” he told her angrily. “The grasshopper will hop jolly high tomorrow night. I ask you one more time, be my wife, my real living bride, Christine. Yes or no. If your answer is no, everyone will be dead and buried.” 

He turned on his heel and left her to weep.