Post by Wern on Nov 7, 2015 6:22:01 GMT
Intruders. Intruders. Intruders. Into her home. Into her sanctuary, ignoring the wood that blocked the door, stepping over the mist that kissed bare feet, and now, now they had entered her room. Her skeleton, her blood, did nothing. It crumbled back into the ground, leaving her alone. Alone to fend for herself, as a metal monster attacked, but it had been held back by the beckoning call of “Shadow Beast.”
But she was not the beast. No. Not the whisper in the walls, not the creature hidden beneath the wood. She was Mala. Born of blood and bone. Not of the night. Not of the shadows, like it had been.
Tightly, she held a bone in her hand, and waited. Waited to use, waited to attack. Power, weak even as she stood, as she searched for an opening. Metal monster, too big, too powerful. Man with red hair, unpredictable. Yelling man- easy target. And so she lunged. Feet, digging into ground to jump, to push into man so that he could block the others. Free the opening, free the way out. Had to run, before it awoke. Before it breathed more of its purple mist. Before she too, would become bones.
Hoping over the stair’s rail, she covered her mouth, poison mist, threatening to touch lungs. Toward the door she ran, toward the door, running, holding breath. But a figure stood in her way, blocking her, blocking sanctuary, blocking freedom.
“Move.” She yelled, clutching the bone, turning it into knife, preparing to attack, to defend, as she ran forward, not stopping, not waiting, but anticipating strife.
~O~
“Shadow Beast?” Wern had at first questioned, having stopped shrieking quite some time ago. But Goya still continued, raising their pitch to sing what sounded like a hollow sound. A hollow, lonely, sound. Wern was going to ask what a “shadow beast” was, until the skeleton took a step toward him, and then, it crumbled. Bones faded into dust, disappearing into the dirt covered floor, where it’s brethren, too must have laid. But there was no rest. Not when another pale form followed behind the disappearing creature. Letting out a yell, Wern tried to raise his pipe, but it was too late. The weapon pushed into him, and he tumbled back into Viktor, or at least something. He knew he hit something, but couldn’t tell what- not when he watched as the feminine creature raced out the door and down the stairs, into the purple (?) mist. And that’s when he scowled.
“Drat.”