The sky was white, boardering to grey at the edges of the horizon. A desolate wasteland of stone and sand dissapeared off into the distance, hazy with heat from an unknown source. In the sky, no sun. No moon, no clouds, only the dull whiteness. Only the tree. It reached up into the sky with twisted branches devoid of leaves, dark, forbidding and seemingly so utterly dead. From the branches crows sat and watched, large with piercing black eyes, occasionally ruffling their feathers. A few daring even to leap into the air and fly around, soaring on thermals and flying over their domain.
Angelina stood and watched the tree and the crows. It was the only thing here in this place, wherever it was. Looking down she saw she was wearing a thin prison shift, heavy manacles around her wrists, a heavy steel band around her neck. It was wrong, so wrong. These were not hers, these were crude and heavy, grimy and old. Looking down again she saw a pile of papers that were not there before, blowing in the wind she could not feel, the pages fluttering away, lost on the wind. Reaching down she picked one up and read it.... it was of her, her past, her time in the Guristas. Grabbing another, it was more of the same, her past, her victories, her conquests... scrabbling for the others at her feet she managed to loose all of them, hot bitter tears streamed down her face, her past blowing away. All she had done... gone.... all she was... no more....
She looked at the crows and noticed each of them had a face, super-imposed on it's own face. Faces she recognised. Faces she knew to be old friends. Faces of people she trusted....
One by one they looked at her, cawed loudly and flew away until only two remained. She recognised them immediately... Esna.... and Ithiria.... They sat on the highest branches while she stood on the ground amongst the scattered remnants of her past, fading away into nothingness. All that was left, the dead tree, it's branches reaching skyward seeming to mock her, reaching up to height she might no longer be allowed where the two crows sat, looking at her. Waiting for her.
She screamed, a long drawn out scream of the lost and the damned, a scream that was itself weighed down with the sins of the past, the crimes of the present and the damnation of the future. One of the crows cawed loudly and flew into the air while the other seemed to laugh, a dark evil laugh that echoed around the desolate landscape until all she could hear was her scream and the laughter......
Angelina woke from the dream to find herself strapped to a table in a medical bay. All around her blank faced doctors reached down to her with blade tipped fingers and began to slice into her flesh. Her scream of pain was loud, and the silent mocking laughter of the masks made all the more terrifying by the heavy scent of coppery blood in teh air and on her lips....
....Angelina woke from the nightmare to find herself chained in a line of slaves. Filthy, malnourished, each with the zombie vacant stare of vitoc abuse. Whips lashed out from the darkness, striking her. Turning to look where they came from only hooded cowls could be seen, no faces, only darkness, only the flashing of the whips and the sound of the lash as she was struck again and again. Turning to the slave behind her looked into a face, the vacant stare of her own face, the slave behind was also her face, and beyond....
.....Angelina woke.....
Curled up in her bunk, she rocked back and forth, the fears of the night still fresh in her mind, the images had been getting more and more vivid. More real. As she realised this was reality... and the voices were no longer there, she stopped screaming. Tears streaming down her face she had the look of a hunted and beaten animal and pulled within herself. Soon he would come, and she had to be strong. He couldn't see her like this. He could never see her like this. No one could.
How the mighty had fallen.....
Angelina stood and watched the tree and the crows. It was the only thing here in this place, wherever it was. Looking down she saw she was wearing a thin prison shift, heavy manacles around her wrists, a heavy steel band around her neck. It was wrong, so wrong. These were not hers, these were crude and heavy, grimy and old. Looking down again she saw a pile of papers that were not there before, blowing in the wind she could not feel, the pages fluttering away, lost on the wind. Reaching down she picked one up and read it.... it was of her, her past, her time in the Guristas. Grabbing another, it was more of the same, her past, her victories, her conquests... scrabbling for the others at her feet she managed to loose all of them, hot bitter tears streamed down her face, her past blowing away. All she had done... gone.... all she was... no more....
She looked at the crows and noticed each of them had a face, super-imposed on it's own face. Faces she recognised. Faces she knew to be old friends. Faces of people she trusted....
One by one they looked at her, cawed loudly and flew away until only two remained. She recognised them immediately... Esna.... and Ithiria.... They sat on the highest branches while she stood on the ground amongst the scattered remnants of her past, fading away into nothingness. All that was left, the dead tree, it's branches reaching skyward seeming to mock her, reaching up to height she might no longer be allowed where the two crows sat, looking at her. Waiting for her.
She screamed, a long drawn out scream of the lost and the damned, a scream that was itself weighed down with the sins of the past, the crimes of the present and the damnation of the future. One of the crows cawed loudly and flew into the air while the other seemed to laugh, a dark evil laugh that echoed around the desolate landscape until all she could hear was her scream and the laughter......
Angelina woke from the dream to find herself strapped to a table in a medical bay. All around her blank faced doctors reached down to her with blade tipped fingers and began to slice into her flesh. Her scream of pain was loud, and the silent mocking laughter of the masks made all the more terrifying by the heavy scent of coppery blood in teh air and on her lips....
....Angelina woke from the nightmare to find herself chained in a line of slaves. Filthy, malnourished, each with the zombie vacant stare of vitoc abuse. Whips lashed out from the darkness, striking her. Turning to look where they came from only hooded cowls could be seen, no faces, only darkness, only the flashing of the whips and the sound of the lash as she was struck again and again. Turning to the slave behind her looked into a face, the vacant stare of her own face, the slave behind was also her face, and beyond....
.....Angelina woke.....
Curled up in her bunk, she rocked back and forth, the fears of the night still fresh in her mind, the images had been getting more and more vivid. More real. As she realised this was reality... and the voices were no longer there, she stopped screaming. Tears streaming down her face she had the look of a hunted and beaten animal and pulled within herself. Soon he would come, and she had to be strong. He couldn't see her like this. He could never see her like this. No one could.
How the mighty had fallen.....
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