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deep_red_bellscreated you a monster
broken by the rule of love
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
Her fingers are coated with sweat, stiff and tingling painfully, wrapped too tightly around a sharpened piece of wood that she's supposed to know exactly what to do with. She has all the strength in the world. She's Super Girl, she's Wonder Woman, she's every goddamned girl hero combined into one, and she can't even lift her arm or keep her hands from trembling. This is the first night of the rest of her life. In a graveyard, in the dead of night, no company to keep but old bones and demons and the hand at her back forcing her forward.
I can't do this.
She says it over and over again even as the push turns to a shove and sends her straight into a hissing, snarling monster. Instinct kicks in...reflexes she's never possessed, skills she's never had; suddenly she's a whirlwind of danger and violence. Her body knows what to do and how to fight even as her mind screams and threatens to break. It isn't possible, it isn't real, it can't be real.
But it is real. The bone-rattling blow to her jaw and the salt and metallic explosion of blood in her mouth, the cold ground under her palms as she falls, the hand twisting in her hair and jerking her head back to expose her throat. It's real. The monsters and the madness and the pain, the hunt and the kill. All of it is real.
She reacts. She twists and yelps at the silver-sharp prick of pain, fangs grazing her skin, but she grapples, grips and rolls and stabs and suddenly there is nothing beneath her but dust and ash and cemetery dirt. The dark surge of triumph and satisfaction is worse than the pain. She sobs, just once, a single, broken cry of horror and disgust. Nerveless fingers release their grip on the stake, finally, and she scrambles back and away; madness takes over for a moment and her hands claw at the dirt and she wonders how there can be nothing left behind of the thing she just killed. Killed. The thing, she just killed.
Oh God. What am I?
The moment passes and suddenly she's tired and feels hollow. She spits a mouthful of blood into the dirt and ash, stumbles to her feet. There are splinters in her palm and there's pain in her head and there's blood trickling down her neck and tomorrow will bring all of that and more besides. Until she learns to be quicker, stronger, better. Until she learns to turn off the cries of protest in her mind and let the twilight in.
She'll do it because the only options are to fight and kill, or to give up and die. It's her destiny, it's her function.
It isn't bravery. It's survival. It's just what she is.
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
Baileigh Solis
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word count: 465
broken by the rule of love
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
Her fingers are coated with sweat, stiff and tingling painfully, wrapped too tightly around a sharpened piece of wood that she's supposed to know exactly what to do with. She has all the strength in the world. She's Super Girl, she's Wonder Woman, she's every goddamned girl hero combined into one, and she can't even lift her arm or keep her hands from trembling. This is the first night of the rest of her life. In a graveyard, in the dead of night, no company to keep but old bones and demons and the hand at her back forcing her forward.
I can't do this.
She says it over and over again even as the push turns to a shove and sends her straight into a hissing, snarling monster. Instinct kicks in...reflexes she's never possessed, skills she's never had; suddenly she's a whirlwind of danger and violence. Her body knows what to do and how to fight even as her mind screams and threatens to break. It isn't possible, it isn't real, it can't be real.
But it is real. The bone-rattling blow to her jaw and the salt and metallic explosion of blood in her mouth, the cold ground under her palms as she falls, the hand twisting in her hair and jerking her head back to expose her throat. It's real. The monsters and the madness and the pain, the hunt and the kill. All of it is real.
She reacts. She twists and yelps at the silver-sharp prick of pain, fangs grazing her skin, but she grapples, grips and rolls and stabs and suddenly there is nothing beneath her but dust and ash and cemetery dirt. The dark surge of triumph and satisfaction is worse than the pain. She sobs, just once, a single, broken cry of horror and disgust. Nerveless fingers release their grip on the stake, finally, and she scrambles back and away; madness takes over for a moment and her hands claw at the dirt and she wonders how there can be nothing left behind of the thing she just killed. Killed. The thing, she just killed.
Oh God. What am I?
The moment passes and suddenly she's tired and feels hollow. She spits a mouthful of blood into the dirt and ash, stumbles to her feet. There are splinters in her palm and there's pain in her head and there's blood trickling down her neck and tomorrow will bring all of that and more besides. Until she learns to be quicker, stronger, better. Until she learns to turn off the cries of protest in her mind and let the twilight in.
She'll do it because the only options are to fight and kill, or to give up and die. It's her destiny, it's her function.
It isn't bravery. It's survival. It's just what she is.
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
Baileigh Solis
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word count: 465
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ooc
Date: 2008-04-30 07:01 am (UTC)Re: ooc
Date: 2008-04-30 02:47 pm (UTC)