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  1. #1
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    Aegis's Avatar

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    Name
    Tristain Edelven
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    Who Saves a Damsel These Days? [Closed]

    A hazy cloud of dust rose from the ground, small eddies that danced in the wind in front of Tristain as he walked. He was not ashamed to admit that he was scuffing the dirt on the wagon trail that he was following, taking out some small measure of his irritation as he strode along the trail. His irritation wasn't at the trail, nor the woods around him - even if he was getting sick and tired of the monotony of the path he was walking along.

    No, the man was still agitated and upset about being tossed out of his troop with little warning, and only the command to “go make a name for yourself” to guide him. While Captain Edelven had prevented Tristain from actually feeling betrayed or abandoned - the fact that he let the younger man take his name proof of that - Tristain was still not happy with the turn of events. And so, he kicked at the ground as he walked, the toes of his leather boots sending up small plumes of dirt with each staccato beat.

    It wasn't that he couldn't see where they were coming from either. Most of the members of the Danse had been, if not famous, at least known before they joined. He was the odd one out, considering he had joined as a runaway from a terrible parent, looking for anyone to give him a chance. That Captain Edelven had given him that chance, taking him on as a camp hand, had meant the world to Tristain when he was younger.

    So the young man was left with no direction for his irritation, just a discontent that toiled in his stomach like an angry fire. He was forced to bite back a snarl as he realized that while he was thinking, he had reached a small town. A few people were walking along the road now, casually trying to ignore the tense visage of the armor clad man. So he choked down his anger, and plastered on an attempt at a pleasant smile as he walked past them. No need to scare people away - when he was told to make a name for himself, the intent hadn't been for him to make himself infamous.

    As he moved through the small town’s streets, he paused with the wooden smile freezing in place as he grew confused. Ahead, there was a small cluster of people surrounding the side of a building, packed in close together in a loose arc as they stared inwards. Tristain’s puzzled frown became more pronounced as he approached, trying to figure out what was going on ahead of him. From what he knew, crowds of people didn't usually just cluster like this, not without some kind of cause - but the location was all wrong for some kind of street performer or someone making a speech. If anything, against the side of a building, somewhat out of the way, was more like where a street beggar would be. Why would people be there?

  2. #2
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    GP
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    Name
    Aynur Ziva
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    Trigger warning: reference to sexual abuse, suicidal thoughts.
    Broken and tossed aside like trash. The girl sat bundled up in filthy rags, a foul odour emanating from her unwashed form. What was once a brilliant purple shawl was now dirtied browns and blacks, tattered beyond recognition. The fetid stench of months on the street. She sat crumpled up against the side of a building with tiny hands wrapped around the remnants of her tattered clothes. Unseeing eyes stared blankly out before her. It was better than Salvar, here the sun warmed her long fingers, and any skin that chanced to slip out from beneath the cover of her clothing.

    Aynur was aware there were people walking to and fro in front of her. She just didn’t care. They paid her no mind so why should she pay them any? The only time they did approach her was to harass her.

    And...as if right on cue with her own thoughts...

    “What do we ‘ave here?” A voice as harsh as gravel. An inflection of superiority and one that promised unsavory tidings. Aynur heard the smack of tongue against lips, and the guttural snort of snot. It belonged to a male. Sometimes… sometimes this would happen. Someone would find her, notice her. Most of the time they nudged her for some sort of reaction, spat on her, or muttered insults under their breath. Other times they’d chance a look, it was usually the men who did this. They’d tear at her clothing they’d pull her up on her feet and- well. Some things were better left unsaid.

    And it was why Aynur barely reacted anymore, nor reacted now when the man ripped the tattered hood from her head revealing milky unseeing eyes. She barely made a sound when she felt two rough hands dig into her shoulders and drag her back up against the cold unrelenting wall behind her. A unwilling breath was pressed out of her as he stepped closer to grab her chin. The calloused pads of his fingers rough against her pale and scorched skin.

    “You deaf and blind lass?”

    Aynur didn’t answer. It was better if she didn’t. She wrinkled her nose. He smelt like smoke. Cigar smoke from a cheap blend of tobacco and soot and poor red wine.She already knew what would come next. No one would stop the man, no one would intervene.

    She was trash.

    All Aynur could do was wish, pray, and hope… that this man. This awful man who smelt of smoke and felt like coarse gravel would be the one to kill her after he was done.

    For she was too much of a coward to take her own life.

  3. #3
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    Aegis's Avatar

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    995

    Name
    Tristain Edelven
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    Human
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    Tristain’s breath caught in his throat, as the bubbling anger in his stomach roared to life, a fire stoked with rage. The man was a drunkard, even from here, halfway through the onlookers, Tristain could smell the booze, unwashed and fetid, mixing with another unpleasant odor. The second source was easy to tell as well - the poor figure that was being accosted, stick thin and dressed in tattered rags had clearly not been bathed in a long while.

    The drunkard infuriated Tristain. It was far, far too easy for the mercenary to envision his own father in the man’s place. While his lout of a father had never openly abused someone, there had been times when Tristain hadn't been sure about just how willing his partners were. The confused frown gave way into an angry snarl, and Tristain bodily shoved people aside, knocking over a small knot of onlookers as he furiously strode over.

    “You disgust me.” His voice, unused to speaking, was a raspy growl as Tristain’s gloved fingers dug into one of the drunkard’s shoulders. The man has time to blink, once, in confusion, before a leather clad fist smashed into the side of his face, sending him sprawling away from his would-be victim. One of Tristain’s hands shot out and grasped the figure’s upper arm, holding them upright, before he twisted, planting himself squarely in front of the rag-clad figure, hauling them behind him and largely out of sight.

    With the almost-victim behind him, against his shield, Tristain let out a snarl as he saw the drunkard getting back up to his feet, shaking his head woozily. Bloodshot eyes locked onto brown ones, and Tristain smashed his right hand, curled into a fist, into his left palm. “You want to have a go, scum? Come then, I am sure I am more than enough for you.” He spat out the words, his voice harsh and grating from disuse. The drunkard seemed confused, and looked to be working up his courage, so Tristain shot a look over his shoulder at the person he had rescued.

    Thin, delicate features beneath film-covered eyes. The woman - or feminine man, perhaps - would have been delicate even under the best of circumstances, and it was clear that times had not been good for her for a while. Tristain was almost, almost glad that this had happened now - it gave him a way to vent his irritation, now anger, and it looked like this person needed legitimate help, not just a few coins tossed their way. He refocused his angry gaze on the drunkard, brown eyes narrowed as he moved to get ready for a fight.

  4. #4
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    GP
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    Name
    Aynur Ziva
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    Aynur didn’t see it, but she heard and felt it. The shuffle of movement, the shout of a man and the sudden wind then presence of another before her. He smelt of leather and road dust, and there was the distinct scent of metal polish in the air. Aynur bit her lower lip. A guard? No. They had never paid her any mind before, some had even taken their own liberties. Aynur pressed her back tightly against the wall and drew in a sharp breath. Maybe if she stayed perfectly still they’d all ignore her.

    The man...no, knight before her barked at the drunkard. Then there was the shift of movement. The sliding of feet against ground then the small clink of armour. Whoever was before her was standing his ground and readying himself for a fight. Aynur shrunk further back, only to realize that the cold hard wall behind her would not relent. Instead she slid down toward the ground and covered her head with her trembling hands.

    “Tha fuck do you care? She’s just a beggar. Hell, maybe a good fuck will-”

    There was the sound of movement, the clutter of metal against metal then the sickening snap of fist against bone. There were hushed whispers and mutters of disappointment throughout the crowd. They wanted a fight, they wanted a scene, a show. Anything. Instead it was over in an instant.

    Aynur didn’t know who won. She didn’t know who lay unconscious on the floor, bleeding - for she could smell the metallic scent of blood in the air. She couldn’t see, may never see again. She couldn’t fight for herself. She couldn’t protest, that would end in more violence toward her. All she could do was exist.

    Exist another minute.

    Another hour.

    Another day.

    Until her time came, until she died.

    Footsteps, slow and even approached her. Then came the sound of someone kneeling. Aynur flinched as she felt the presence of a hand reach out to her.

    “P-please. I do not have anything of value. I am sorry.”

    Then there was a pause, and she heard a sigh. Aynur opened her eyes. Before her was the usual blurry swirl of colour. She wished she still had her ability to see peoples inner light, their intention. But that was stripped from her, as was everything else.

    “I-I’m sorry…” Aynur muttered again as she lowered her head to her knees as she bought them to her chest. Maybe, just maybe whomever it was would leave her alone.

    ’just leave me to die’

  5. #5
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    Aegis's Avatar

    GP
    995

    Name
    Tristain Edelven
    Age
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    Human
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    Corone

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    Tristain’s right hand stung just slightly - he had punched the drunkard a little harder than he had intended to originally, but it had proved to be very, very cathartic to see those bloodshot eyes flare in pain as his jaw cracked under the impact of Tristain’s fist. The drunkard hit the ground in a loose slump, consciousness driven from his body.

    The armor-clad man glared around at the others who had clustered around to watch the ‘show’. The angry gaze made most of them quail and hide away, and those few that had an inkling to try to provoke him any further only paused to look down at the unconsciousness man, blood dribbling from his mouth, and the ‘courage’ in their hearts failed. Tristain let out a loud snort when the crowd melted away, none of them attempting anything else. That dealt with, he turned around to look at the person that he had rescued.

    At some point the thin, bedraggled woman had slumped down, and dropped her head into her hands. Tristain frowned deeply - what was wrong with these people, this woman clearly needed help, not - not what that bastard had intended. Slowly, carefully he approached the woman, his face tightening when she seemed to shrink in on herself even more. Ever so patiently he reached out one hand, pausing in place when the woman flinched.

    “I might be a mercenary, girl, but I did not save you for some expectation that you would reward me.” Tristain’s voice rasped out, a low growl that still bore the rust of disuse. The woman kept babbling apologies to him, and shrinking down like a wilting flower, and the man had to suppress the urge to go over and break a few more of the drunkard’s bones. Instead he let out a sigh and shook his head.

    “Peace, girl, peace. I am not going to harm you.” Tristain sat back on one foot, and propped his arm over his knee as he studied the girl. She was shy, reticent, and quite clearly afraid, shaking like a leaf in a strong wind as he stayed in front of her. He chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought, then let out a slow breath through his nose.

    The brown-haired man was no counselor, to guide this girl through whatever had traumatized her. All he knew how to do was treat her like he had been when he had shown up at the camp of the Danse Indomitable as a runaway. Namely, throw her into a wash and get some hot food into her.

    “Come on.” He gently took her wrist and stood up, pulling her with him. He knew she wouldn't resist - if she was going to do that, she would have fought harder against the drunk. He could see where an inn was nearby, and that would have both of the things he needed to care for this waif.

  6. #6
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    GP
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    Name
    Aynur Ziva
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    Aynur felt him grab her wrist, gingerly, gently. Almost as if he was afraid that if he gripped it tight he’d snap it. She followed him of course. How could she not? She had no fight in her. He said he wouldn’t harm her but the broken shell of a woman had no reason to believe him. How could she? Lucifer said the same thing, so did David. They both…

    Aynur pursed her lips. As she followed him awkwardly behind. She had gotten used to the blur of colours and shapes that was now her vision, but it did not make walking any easier. Especially when being pulled by someone who felt as though they towered over her in height.

    The brown haired girl was silent as she listened to the clinks and clanks of his armour. Until the questions started bubbling up in her head. “Are you a knight? You do not belong to this city do you? The guardsmen here don’t wear as much metal. They don’t meddle in the affairs of street trash.”

    There were no words, but the man replied with a loud snort as his grip tightened on her wrist. His pace increased then there was the sound of a door. The ambiance changed.

    He had dragged her inside someplace. The sounds were merry and the scents plentiful. Had he bought her to an inn?

    “Why are we here? I’m not allowed inside. They’ll kick me out. I should go.” Aynur gave a light tug on her hand but found resistance.

    “A bath. Then a hot meal.” Came the gravelly reply of his voice.

    No matter the case...being lead to a place that was inside, that was warm...and the promise of a hot meal. It was far more than she could ever expect, and if she were to endure pain afterward… then at least she had a moment of reprieve.

    Aynur wasn’t sure what to say.

    She stopped tugging away from his grip. “I have nothing to give. I-uhm. I’m not sure…” She tilted her head. The sentiment she held so desperately onto, equal exchange. To do favours in return of favours. Even now the desire to repay him lingered in her broken psyche. “All I have are stories and songs. If that...is suitable for your needs. I...I am afraid I’m not...a good…”

    Aynur trailed off. She was not a good lay. She didn’t want to say as such for fear that she’d place the thought into his mind and he’d do just that. Instead she cleared her throat. “Did you know in Salvar they prefer fatty meals and meats?”

    It was a poor attempt at shifting the conversation to something else, anything else.

  7. #7
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    Aegis's Avatar

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    Name
    Tristain Edelven
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    Human
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    It was an odd segue, and one that made Tristain pause and blink several times before he looked over his shoulder at the girl. “That is.. An odd tidbit to be aware of. I wonder if it is because of the colder weather in that region. Hm.” He was no fool, he could tell that she was trying to distract him from thoughts of repayment. The blind girl need not have worried - he had no intentions of trying to get reimbursement of any kind from her.

    Without releasing his grip on her he strode over to the matron of the inn he had brought her to. The older woman started to give the blind beggar girl a dirty glare, only to pause when she saw the steady gaze the heavily armored man was giving her. “I require a room with a bath, and a meal delivered to it.” The woman curled her lip in disgust.

    “We don't take nicely to filthy beggars renting rooms, ser.” The disdain in her voice was clear and evident. Tristain let out a dismissive snort and leaned forward, invading the woman’s space over the counter.

    “That may be. But I did not state that she would be renting the room. I am. If you continue to obstruct me, I shall endeavor to find out just how many of your walls I can tear down with my hammer. I suppose I shall start with the one your head is in front of?” The woman froze as Tristain very slowly, and deliberately, dropped one hand to the hilt of his large warhammer. Without breaking his haze gaze from the matron he began lifting it from the hooks on his side, clearly eyeing her up.

    “No, no no, no need for that good sir! A thousand pardons. Ah, here,” she hurriedly grabbed a key from one of the key hooks behind her, glanced at it to confirm something, then thrust it out to him. Tristain slowly let the hammer drop back down, and gave the woman a wintry smile. “Th-that’ll be fifteen copper.” He inclined his head, still with that cold smile in place, and fished out the coins from a pouch. They were firmly placed down on the scarred wooden counter, and he took the key. With it in hand, he turned on his heel and strode towards the stairwell to the side, where there hung a sign proclaiming rooms were in this direction.

    His hold on the girl remained implacable - if his estimate was correct, she would probably be feeling like trash because of the way the matron had been speaking, and he was not going to give her a chance to pull away and flee because of it. So up the stairs they went, though Tristain did slow down when they actually reached the stairs, making sure the girl was able to climb the steps without too many problems.

    Once he spotted the room that the key matched to, he let out a soft grunt and headed towards it. The key stuck in the lock for a moment, but he was able to get it to twist and unlatch, and pushed his way in. Inside was a simple wide, low bed, a desk with a mirror atop it, and a chair in front of it. Set into one wall was a window, and in another wall was a open door to a bath chamber. Tristain guided the girl to the desk and sat her down in the chair.

    “Stay. I am going to draw a bath. Do you prefer warm or cool waters?” His voice was still rough, but it was clearing up slightly - this was the most he had talked in months.

  8. #8
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    She wanted to pull away. Had tried to. Aynur knew this would happen, that she would be turned away the moment anyone set eyes on her. “I-It’s ok. You tried…” She mumbled, but the man wouldn’t hear it. The tin-can man kept a tight hold on her small wrist.

    The threat of tearing down walls with a hammer… Aynur cringed. What possessed him to think such a thing? To want to destroy an establishment in this town, whatever the town was… regardless… why? Why for her? Her brows furrowed in confusion as the exchange continued. She couldn’t see it but she heard the reserved fear in the womans voice. The bubbling anger in his.

    Then, before she knew it away she was whisked! “I uhm- you didn’t have to do that.” She muttered as they took the steps slowly, one by one. She gave another tug. He wasn’t letting go. Instead he lead her up the stairs being sure to not let her trip or fall.

    “I did not have to. But I did.” His voice rasped out as they moved, as firm and unyielding as the grasp on her wrist, the armor he wore.

    Their footsteps creaked upon wooden floorboards as he lead her down a hallway. One, two, four, eight...eight large strides till they stopped in front of a door and with the jingle of keys Aynur was pulled into a room.

    There was only a moment of silence before he spoke again. His voice was soft=spoken but rough around the edges. The sudden sound still caused the blind woman to jump. “A...a bath? I - warm waters but…” Before she could continue she heard his footsteps move away from her.

    Desperately she reached out, only for her hand to hit nothing. Aynur took two blind steps forward - still flailing. Her hand finally hit something. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was. His outstretched arm. “I uhm. Ah.” She felt him shift, slowly, taking a few steps backward which allowed her to follow with his guidance. He was leading her to the bathroom.

    “I’m..my name is Aynur.”

    There was a pause then a response. “I am Tristain.” Came his gruff reply.

    The blind woman let that mull around in her mind as she continued to let the man lead her into the bathroom. She felt a shift in the air. It was a little cooler now, and she assumed they were now in the adjacent room. She felt him clasp her hand and press it to a cool, hard surface. The rim of the bath.

    Then, came the sound of rushing water. HIs silence unnerved her. She wasn’t sure if he was disgusted with her appearance, curious, or just not a very talkative person. Aynur used a free hand to reach up to her face and let her fingers graze over the claw-like scars on her face. “It wasn’t an animal.” She commented. There was no response from the man.

    “A group of people did this. It hurt...a lot. They ripped out my eyes. I wouldn’t have any, if it weren’t for a woman named Amari. I think… I’d be dead if it weren’t for her.” Aynur tilted her head to the side as she lifted it up. That seemed like such a long time ago now. Of course Lucifer… a man she thought she adored, had forced her to live a lifetime of pain and solitude. Aynur had lived an entire lifetime and had to endure a lifetime of false memories floating around in her mind.

    Sometimes, she questioned what was real.

    Was this even real?

    “Are you real?”

  9. #9
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    Name
    Tristain Edelven
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    Human
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    “People are… Scum. Finding those who are not is a far more arduous task than it should be. And yes. I am real. I have the scars to prove it.” Not that he was going to be taking off his armor to show her most of his, but - Tristain shoved back the sleeve on his right arm, which was just clad in cotton and thin leather, and took one of her hands. He placed the hand against his arm, and let her fingertips roam along the skin as he spoke.

    “Now.” He shifted away from her hand, and focused his attention on the bath. The water had filled to a decent level, and was warm but not hot. One broad hand clasped one of hers and guided it to the water, letting her test it.

    “This is fine thank you.”

    Aynur stepped away from him and started to remove her dirtied rags. There wasn’t much left of the clothing. Her body was littered with scars and her entire right arm was marred with the signs of severe burning. Her back was turned to him and on it looked like a crudely draw half sun with an eye in its center. Tristain blinked several times, the only motion as his body froze when her rags began hitting the floor.

    I - I know the women in the Danse don't have shame, but I thought normal women did. Oh, my. I definitely did not see clearly with those rags. Wow. Uhm. He shook his head sharply behind her, forcibly dragging his attention away from the figure, instead looking at the network of scars that littered her body. From behind her, he could see the edge of a thin net of scars on one side of her body, wispy and jagged. They looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

    As his eyes dipped lower, he bit his lip, hard, the sharp taste of copper focusing his mind. He coughed, once. “I - will leave you to your bath. I will be outside, call for me if you need assistance with something.” Staying in here was not something he was fully comfortable with doing. At all. Without really waiting for a reply, the mercenary snatched the rags from the ground and strode out - not quite a run, but more than a walk.

    He closed the door to the bathroom most of the way, leaving it ajar so he could hear if the woman called for help - if Aynur called for help, he had to associate her name with her. He found the rubbish bin, tucked into a corner of the room, and shoved the rags into it. The fighter was not going to let that poor woman stay in that torn attire, not of he could help it. And he could. With her taking a bath, she would be occupied for a time - long enough for him to make a trip to a nearby market, or store, and find some clothes. He had gotten an… unexpectedly good view of her body, so he had a fair guess what size she was.

    As he locked the door to the inn room, he ran one hand over his head. She had said someone had done that to her, indicating her face. It was a safe bet that the rest of the scars across her body had also been inflicted by people. She seemed harmless enough - blind, now, and broken inside, to the point of not fighting back when that drunkard had been about to - Tristain cut off his line of thought forcibly, not wanting to get angry all over again.

    Back on topic, she seemed to have had a rough go of things. A few days, hot meals, and safety, might help her immensely. He had time to spare, and paying the favor forward of helping someone down on their luck sat well with him. He took a deep breath, and headed out, stopping one of the serving girls to ask for directions to the nearby market before he continued on his way.

  10. #10
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    Trigger warning: suicide attempt, references to suicide and depression
    She was left to her own devices, sitting in the warm water. Aynur slowly began to scrub herself with a soap filled washcloth. Unsure if she was even denting the caked layers of dirt upon her skin. What did it matter anyway? She couldn’t see. The water felt nice. Aynur had to admit it was...enjoyable. When was the last time she had felt such warmth?

    …

    When would she fell it again. The brown haired woman dropped the rag and it slowly fell to the bottom of the tub. What was the point in all of this? Bathing? Cleaning the grime from her skin? Who was she trying to fool. She’d inevitably climb back into the tattered remains of her clothing, she’d find herself back on the streets. Tristain’s kindness could only go so far and she had nothing to offer him.

    Nothing…

    ’I’m nothing…’

    The thought screamed at her, drowning out anything else in her mind. The bath water felt cold and numb against her skin and as she rubbed her arms she felt goosebumps form. The temperature hadn’t changed just her attitude. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This...there was no way this could ever last.

    Aynur pulled herself from the bath. Slowly. One foot, then the other. Step by step she shuffled till she bumped into something hard. It sat above the ground around waist height. Her fingers danced oer the cold, circular concave. Oh… It was a sink. Her fingers brushed across something else.

    ’Scissors’

    Her hand clasped over the cold metal and she turned on her heel to shuffle back into the bath. The air was cold against her bare skin and the touch of the water welcomed her like a warm embrace. Something she felt she had long since forgotten. When was she ever held with a tender emotion. Lucifer? No… that was under false pretences. Before that? Her brow furrowed.

    She wished she could concentrate on a time before that but his mental torture, his sick and twisted magic made that nearly impossible. If there were good memories they were long gone and buried. Aynur found herself sliding further and further into the waters of the tub til her head was completely submerged.

    She could feel the thump of her own heart.

    Ba-thump
    Ba-thump
    Ba-thump

    A calming sound that rang in her ears. She felt...at peace. Even as her chest began to burn she felt an odd sense of peace and an overwhelming desire to stay like this. In this moment. Forever. Floating forever in the warmth of these tepid waters.

    As her thoughts drifted to such things she realized she still had the scissors in her hand. She ran a finger tip along its edge and felt a prick. They were sharp.

    She was going to die someday soon anyway. Why not here, why not on her own terms and in peace.

    ----

    The crimson tide danced in circles amongst the water, rising to the surface in little hurricanes of life. Life being leached from one who had lost the will to live. Her body felt cold but she was barely aware of it.

    ’This is...peaceful’

    Barely aware, unable to hear anything but the beat of her own heart amidst the waters.

    Ba-thump
    Ba-thump
    Ba-thump

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