#faebanes

oh   how   naive   she'd   been .   to   think   she   would   ever   be   safe   in   anyone's   hands   but   her   own .   something   of   a   pipe   dream   that   only   ever   expanded   during   her   residence   in   the   night   court .   but   the   searing   pain   she   feels   in   her   leg ,   feels   oddly   familiar .   a   pain   that   she   finds   herself   sinking   into ,   as   if   a   nostalgic   memory   of   her   life   before   prythian .   the   tears   have   already   begun   their   stream   down   her   cheeks ,   back   digging   into   the   cavernous   wall   behind   her .   hands   attempting   to   stabilize   her   leg ,   in   an   effort   to   pull   herself   to   her   feet   again ,   but   to   no   avail .   in   another   time ,   cerys   had   been   no   stranger   to   violence.    but   this ,   this   was   nothing   short   of   a   massacre .   frightened   hands   raise   when   a   body   approaches   at   an   inhuman   speed ,   but   as   she   awaits   the   final   blow ,   those   sad ,   lost   blue   hues   look   up   in   questioning .   only   seeming   to   water   even   more   at   the   sight   of   zora ,   deron   guarding   her   back   with   blade   she   never   thought   she'd   ever   see   between   his   normally   gentle   hands .         ❛   zo   ?   ❜

her   body   is   rolling   against   the   cavernous   floor ,   bumping   into   other   limp   frames .   the   warm   hands   of   her   friend   no   longer   cradling   her   broken   figure .   each   whimper   seems   to   escape   on   their   own   volition ,   searing   pain   of   her   leg   has   her   body   curling   into   itself .   deron   and   zora   are   nowhere   in   sight ,   far   too   preoccupied   by   the   blades   of   silver   marked   with   blood   of   their   own .   her   stomach   heaves   in   worry   at   the   thought ,   not   at   all   concerned   for   the   imminent   death   that   awaited   her   as   she   lay   amongst   the   corpses   that   welcomed   her   home .   the   human   has   already   resigned   herself   to   a   gentle   surrender ,   accepted   her   fate   graciously .   just   as   a   protagonist ,   a   hero  ─      someone   she'd   hoped   to   be   in   another   life  ─      would've   in   one   of   her   novels .   she   doesn't   flinch   at   the   looming   body   above   her ,   the   expansive   wings   behind   them   only   obscuring   her   view   of   the   battle   she   knows   still   wages   on .         ❛   do   you   think   the   mother   would   laugh   ?   ❜         stifles   the   groan   at   the   throb   in   her   thigh ,   trying   not   to   think   of   how   his   hefty   sword   would   feel   piercing   through   her   skin .         ❛   to   know   that   an   angel   is   delivering   the   killing   blow .   terribly   ironic ,   isn't   it   ?   ❜