Snippet 1
WARNING: 1.) Contains spoilers. 2.) Content will only be up for 3 days (max).
Time slid by strangely for Meljar. Her wounds had begun to heal, the wetness of the blood eerily vacant from her skin and replaced with an uncomfortable stickiness. She felt dirty, but the blood and dirt that covered her skin wasn't to blame. Guilt stained her where the filth of her flesh could not penetrate. The cuts and bruises were welcome pain in comparison to the bodies that plagued her cell. Selfish.
The interrogator had left the lights flickering continuously now, so instead of losing herself in the dark she was forced to watch the vacant eyes that stared up at her from the blood covered floor of her cell. What was worse than the sight was the smell, a sickly sweet scent, the quiet beginnings of rot. Something inside her wondered if they would leave the bodies with her until there was nothing left but bones for the rats to gnaw at, another part of her answered she wouldn't live long enough to see the bodies' fates.
The click of heels caught Meljar's attention and she closed her internal conversations to regard the cruelty that waltzed in on embroidered teal and cream heels. Meljar's eyes remained on the red floors, waiting for the heels to sink into the puddles surrounding her, but the Queen maneuvered around them with ease.
"You have made me do these things."
Meljar forced her eyes upwards, meeting the Queen's beautiful emerald eyes.
Harasa almost looked pained, but the sadness flickered quickly from her expression. She replaced any trace of humanity with a simulated compassionate smile. "I can make this all stop, all you have to do is do as Jii commands. Tell me where Parisia is." She bent down, her white gown brushing over a lifeless hand. "I only want to protect her and the Blade."
Meljar studied the white gown and bloody hand's interaction, watching as the whiteness of the silky cloth gathered up the muddy red, the red just a faint clay color amidst the sea of cleanliness of the fabric.
The Queen snapped her fingers, all trace of the kindness she had attempted to portray disappearing. "Tell me where she is!" Her voice screeched.
The scream vibrated through her mind, stirring up the previous screams of the women and girls who lay scattered before her. Women and girls she had known, some even loved. But she loved her daughter more. Selfish.
The silence only invoked the Barren Queen's rage and she kicked Muli's discarded form, painting her delicate shoe with a mix of departing shades. The infuriated Queen screamed again, no words, just a gnarled expression of her frustration. It seemed to echo off the cell's walls, adding to the horrid sound. Meljar closed her eyes. She focused on her own heartbeat, drowning out the Queen's continuous howls. Outside herself she heard the slide of steel, the ting of metal dragging over the jagged floor. She did not open her eyes, she thought of her daughter. She welcomed the coldness as the blade slide between the skin of her neck. Her daughter was in her arms again, a slight, dependent, tiny being, eyes like two waiting bowls ready to be filled up with the world.
Selfish.
