Beauty and Rage

[Flamebird]

This faun was straight to the point, direct. Felicity felt herself internally sigh in relief when Philomel proved it.

The fake smile faded as Felicity allowed herself to mellow. She could be herself. She could relate to her opponent's problem, the need to vent. She frowned as she removed her hand from her sword's hilt. "Thank goodness I don't have to pretend..." she mumbled.

As birds sang nearby, Felicity reached for the long bow on her back. Yew war bows on their own were insanely powerful due to the massive draw weight. Felicity's bow, however, was made of talymer. This war bow was more than capable of crippling and killing its target, piercing through armor... At least, if nothing else, the blunt force impact would be horrific.

The leaves of the Spring tree continued to fall as she held the bow in her hand and flicked the sturdy string. All this beauty felt so fake, so manufactured. The aroma of gentle flowers, the sounds of livestock calling in the distance. The monks always did a tremendous job with their exhibits; but this time, it still felt like it could fade like mist. It was pointless, useless. Fake, plastered on like a white lie smile. This needed to evaporate. Blood needed to be spilled. Rhyolite's inner anger started to bubble and rise in slow pools. There was nothing but rage these two people felt. That rage needed to be vented. Endless sorrow, debilitating pain. Precious release would be found in this fight. Felicity's anger issues were beyond healing through sweet stimulation. No beauty. Just agony. Just rage.

She needed to feel physical pain to drown out the mental pain. She needed to feel wounds to distract her from her losses. She needed to bleed.

"This arena is cruel." She pulled her iron arrow out and placed it into the pulling position. Her voice was tarnished in both bitterness and lacrimosa; yet the burning beneath grew more and more obvious as she started to quiver in anticipation. She needed to vent. She needed to vent so badly!

"Have you ever felt so empty, yet mad, you- ..." She shook her her, refusing to think any longer. Her energy needed to be focused on this fight, and releasing the negativity inside. She pulled herself into the archer's shooting position.

"I need to vent too."

She snapped the bow back, pulling the tall, powerful bow back in perfect skill. She watched the regal faun with eyes which seemed to glimmer in a sudden desire for combat. In this picture perfect, fake scenery, their own misery needed to be painted red on this canvas.

"Look out." She fake warned as she let go on the strong. The arrow raced towards its target, the faun's chest.