Some really old writing I unearthed. It’s kinda bad imo, but I think I wrote it kinda “clunky” on purpose, to demonstrate her state of mind. Very loosely edited, it’s. It’s something lol
For context, this is Sunset. Fenrir is a Fae, and the “I” in question is Lilliwiess, the main character to that story.
Uhhh @chaotic-orphan and @whump-is-love-whump-is-life ig and @whump-since-2010 (is it okay if I tag you?)
The spear pierces my chest, sliding between my ribs and into my lung. My vision goes white and black and red, the world kaleidoscoping into a rush of noise and agony.
Pure, white hot pain burst through me alongside a guttural scream. The cuffs dig into my wrists as I instinctively try to close my arms, to protect myself. Somehow. Any way.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Fenrir snarls, hefting another spear. “Die in slow agony, Human.”
I can feel my insides tearing as he thrusts the second spear into my stomach. My vision blurs and my legs give out. I can feel my blood tricking from the wounds, hot and sticky.
I can feel it dripping onto the ground as it drip, drip, drips from the spear shaft, leaving my body and mixing with the sand.
Flur flickers in my mind. Urging me to do something.
The third spear brings fresh waves of pain, but also a rush of clarity. Clarity that brings a surge of power through me. I’m aware of every drop of blood I’ve lost, how it leaks from my body. How my wounds tingle softly at first, then begin to burn.
I scream again, this time in rage. Flur’s empowerment and something else bursts forth like a gyser of power inside me and I rip the chain from its sounding, doing the same with the other chain a moment later.
My vision is too blurred to see Fenrir’s reaction. “AAAAUGH!” I slide one spear free of my body. I remember its shape, its weight, and toss it aside. Blood pours from my open wound, but not splattering into the ground.
It solidifies into my hands as a javalin and I hurl it at Fenrir, with force I didn’t know I had in me.
I see his figure tumble to the ground and I find the shaft of my blood spear, pulling it from him. But the spear isn’t the only thing that leaves his body.
I feel his very essence, his blood, his life pull free from his body and into my spear. A moment later it flows through me and my open wound closes, my blood returning as my wounds mend themselves.
I pull the second and third spears from myself and toss those aside. A primal rage fuels me as I crush his ribs, find his heart, and snuff out the vaguely red light emanating from him.
I stagger away from his corpse blinded by bloodlust. Two Fae guards fall beneath my hands, their flesh soft and malleable. Their blood is warm in my hand as it solidifies into a weapon, a weapon I can use.
I step out into fresh air, into the empty hallway- empty except to a Fae servant. She dies quickly. Guards flood in, pelting me with spells and arrows. Each wound feeds me.
Tearing through the soldiers with my bare hands and weapons made of their blood feeds me.
Their pain, feeds me. And I am unstoppable.
I find myself in front a still pool of water, central to the courtyard. And the reflection staring back at me is not me.
Wings of red velvet stretch behind her. Blue eyes tinged with so much blood they look purple. Hair and clothes stained with the same stuff that stains every inch of this courtyard.
A flicker of self returns to me and I look around.
Bodies everywhere.
The palace is lifeless around me.
