No hope left in the Hourglass

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Nightspirit
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Joined: Thu Jan 04, 2018 9:54 pm

No hope left in the Hourglass

#1 Post by Nightspirit » Sun Sep 16, 2018 3:09 pm

I knew what was coming and I didn't like the idea. Chit asked for a conversation about the Void once she knew I had experience. She lacked the knowledge she needed and wanted on this topic, especially since Annie was affected by it. As much as I am sure she wanted to hear only good news, news which a small part of me wanted to give, I cannot bring it upon myself to make sure everyone else sees the world through rose-tinted glass.

She asks all the right questions. "How do you get it? What makes it different from using the shadows? Does it corrupt? Can you get rid of it?" It's painful to think some people, not just Chit are blind to this. Since it is she, Tikal, Lumi and a select few others from Starlight that I would expect to possess a sort of parental role over Annie in order to aid in securing her well-being.

I think, perhaps in part to deflect away from the unsettling information I am providing her, she turns the topic and thus the conversation and points it at me. Asking what my relationship with it is. If I can still cure myself of it or not. When she finds out I am running out of time, she asks if I will take the plunge before the deal closes or not. Apparently me letting time decide for me is a weak decision. As is proclaiming I am not making rash choices because I do not expect to be among them or their world for much longer.


A long, drawn-out sigh escapes the Elf's lips. A few drops of ink are left to fall absent-mindedly to the page at the edge, while E'larrah struggles to decide where to go from here. Even after so long, she can still hear the words that her true mate assaulted her with in a fit of rage and desperation so long ago. A desperation for the one she had promised an eternity towards being unable to wake up, to face her. Playing dead as the world around changed so drastically, while others looked to her for guidance, or aid or even just a sign of emotion, that she cared.

E'larrah felt a rapid tightening within her, her hands beginning to shake, as the ink she was blotching the page with now began to be shaken further across the parchment and onto the table beneath the book. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes while her breaths became more laboured and heavy, their pace increasing as though in a race with the tempo of the Highborne's quivering hands as the very same shaking grasped her arms. Even trying to cast her mind back to her writing couldn't stop it, as that tightening in her chest also became a tightening in her throat, almost a burning feeling as she tried to swallow back a whimper while tears made a painful and prolonged excursion down her cheeks.

It was too much.

A howl signalled the book being thrown from the table, slammed shut with a hateful authority, ink smeared about the pages. Hoisted aloft and away in a brash strike. In turn the quill and pot of ink were thrown with vigour, the glass container shattering against the wall and spoiling a radius nearby with black ink. A second howl followed, cut short by helpless sobbing, E'larrah's hands turned to herself, clawing at her chest as though trying to pull her heart free, nails scratching at skin not through lack of trying. She collapsed from her chair to the floor below, dropping to her knees and curling over into herself, her tears flowing in an endless torrent.

The Elf remained near motionless for what felt like an eternity, with only the harsh jerking of her chest breaking through the paralysis. It wasn't until she heard someone call her name from outside that E'larrah regained composure a little more, if only so she could drag herself to a nearby window, force it open and escape into the cold, sobering embrace of the night into the arms of which she desperately ran, abandoning the scene of despair in her wake.

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