idolpro | Shrike's Heart (#4)

Entry tags:

!heart games

Shrike's Heart (#4)

The woman before you is beautiful—fair of features, with lovely golden skin and luxurious long black hair, petite. You have the immediate and distinct impression that she's just let go of your hand, and she steps back, and smiles.

It's not quite a happy smile.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's just nothing I can do, as things are. But the way is there; it just needs to be lit."

You open your mouth—maybe to say something, or to express confusion—but you have to cough, and taste something metallic, spattering black blood onto the ground in front of you. Then you realize—blood seeps from opening wounds in your arms, your chest, your stomach, your face. It rims your eyes and trails from your nose and you feel like you're dissolving—

—and you fall through the ground like it's the surface of a lake, and go down, down, down.

> Wake Up

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hmph. Does this far-fetched sounding city, this "family" require so much care that she leaves aside her duties to her true home, and her true family?

Your true home's one that you choose, not one that has you on a leash all your life.

He has a point.

[ hot takes in this part of the Hundred Kingdoms tbh ]

But there is no need for it to be one or the other. She is fighting to return that she might use her skills in Creation as well. I have utter faith in her ability to do so—and my esteem is, I suspect, as difficult to earn as your own.

[ she raises an eyebrow. ]

Yet, you are strangers. What have I but your word on this? And, furthermore, where is she? Where was she when this place fell? Where was she?

[ the thud of boots on the road outside grows louder; drums, among with them. there’s a smell of smoke growing stronger. the woman hunches over slightly, crossing an arm across her waist, a bitter expression on her face. ]

[At this, the hardness in Griffin's face falters. He glances at Amaranth, unsure how to respond. For all of the anxiety and discomfort this home instilled, it was still undeniably the place that bore her.]

[ a glance towards the windows, and then back at Griffin; there's a brief moment where her eyes widen before her expression goes focused ]

It's true: you have nothing but our word.
And we do not know what happened, either.

But she was a Talon Commander. If this place fell...

[

... ]

Let us prove the worth of our word. [ voice low ] If they are coming again, we will fight.
... As she must have, too.

There's no time.

What I fought for, what I built, what I gave them... what did it all mean, in the end?

[ she steps forward, but it's a lurching, staggering motion; she catches herself on the back of a chair.

the air feels... odd. wrong. stale and still. ]

You got it all wrong.

[Griffin is surprisingly muted as he says it.]

Nothing you build's gonna last forever. Not these medals, this house, or any kinda fancy title or name you made for yourself.

But-- if you... could find it in you t'be proud of her... No matter where she goes and what she becomes?

She'll still be your legacy. Proof that the skills you gave her helped her survive.

[ Amaranth has gone quiet.
She takes a step forward; reaches a hand for the same chair, gripping it from the other side. ]

There's still time.

Legacy...

[ she leans heavily on the chair, and her grip loosens on the sword in her hand; it clatters to the floor as she makes a noise like clearing her throat. there's blood on her lips when she looks up.

when she pulls her other arm away from her midsection to steady herself further, there's blood there, too, and her shirt looks damp; blood matting the black silk. ]

In the end... whether I can be proud of her or not... she'll have to do. Won't she.

[ the house looks... less well-kept, more disused, if you pay attention. like it's stood empty. ]

[Griffin makes no move to help her - Amaranth is closer anyway, and if this was truly the state of things... then it was just history playing out. Solemnly, he remarks,]

Like we said... you should be proud.

[And if she couldn't, then... well, Griffin really lacked the pity to feel for her.]

[ Screw propriety.
She presses her hands to the taller woman's shoulders, supporting her weight. ]

She is more than worthy.

[ a low exhale, almost pained ] Shrike, please. I beg of you to stop this.

[ she attempts to straighten, to not need the support, but she clearly does; eventually she sags against Amakura, breathing heavily. ]

She's not here. Her heart was never in it.

You should... go.

[Griffin is quiet and looks to Amaranth again - this time, not for direction, but out of concern. Are... you gonna be okay?]

Amakura...?

Edited 2020-03-05 17:30 (UTC)

[ Amaranth doesn't meet his eyes.
It's fine. ]

It mattered to her. We could not have found you otherwise.

[ She lets Shrike's mother sink into her arms—shifting to carrying her, if need be. ] ... Tell me where to bring you.

Does guilt... really matter? In the end, it's... your deeds.

[ she really clearly cannot stand anymore, as much as she's trying to hold herself up. ]

Take me... by the gate to the yard. In life... or in death... I will guard this place.

I... have never wanted... a comfortable end.

[Griffin may not like her, and he definitely doesn't empathize with her. But, he can't exactly turn away from someone's dying request.

Wordlessly, he comes over to help Amaranth hold her up - an arm slung across their shoulders.]

[ She could have carried her alone, if needed—but this is better: with a support at each shoulder, Shrike's mother can at least still stand on her own feet.
—Amaranth takes a moment, though, to bend down and retrieve the sword. ]

...No, guilt alone isn't enough. But I've told you that before. Haven't I.

What matters is that she fought.

[ it's slow going, but she can walk it, with their help, as chagrined as she looks to have to accept it.

the sky is growing darker—maybe from fog, or clouds? the flowers griffin watered early stand out uncannily bright. ]

I'm just... tired.

[Griffin's silent, but he tilts his head up to note the incoming weather. It's like the heart itself is preparing for a dramatic end.

At least... the flowers look like they're okay. He hopes they'll survive.]

[ The flowers catch Amaranth’s eye a moment too—that sudden spark of color—but they can’t really hold her attention compared to the dying warrior mother leaning against her shoulder. She feels more than sees the weather shift around them. ]

It’s alright to be tired. It isn’t weakness.
And... you don’t have to be tired alone.

[ As they reach the garden gate, Amaranth presses the sword back into Shrike’s mother’s hand. ]

[ her hand tightens around the sword more firmly and more readily than Shrike's ever has, but she doesn't quite raise it. or maybe she can't. it seems to bring her a little strength, though. ]

Don't I?

After all. You're not... here for me.

We're here for her, and you're part of her.

[But Griffin backs off to give her space, if her pride demanded that she stand alone.]

[ Amaranth holds her hand at the hilt of the sword just a little longer; lifts it to its proper readied place before stepping away. ]

And we are... too similar, aren’t we.

[ she steadies one hand against one of the gate posts, and half-smiles, before speaking—quietly. ]

Once, there was a maiden...
...who was the living embodiment of everything right in the world.
While she lived, no real harm could come to anyone. Oh, wounds, disease, even death, sure. But she stood between the world and anything worse.
"Except," she said, "I'm going to die." And no one listened.
"I'm going to die tomorrow," she said. And no one heard.
Into the silence, she said: "There's always an ending, after all."

Shrike's Heart (#4)

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

Re: HOME

1/2

Re: HOME