"Through the Eyes of The Fallen" -- by Allora Atwater
A/N: Sorry I've been gone so long everyone! I've really been neglecting my writing lately; I've had to practice day-in and day-out for our dance production coming up, and to make matters worse, I've had to skip art class to rehearse for this thing! Meaning I have a lot of painting to do at home for this to be done on time! I know, excuses, excuses! But I have the next part of "A Stab in the Dark" almost complete, as well as a few new side projects underway!
Disclaimer: Rinoa belongs to Squaresoft but the story is *mine*! So ha-ha to the makers of Final Fantasy 8! Even though without them, this wouldn't exist...
My bare feet pressed against the unyielding earth, wearing themselves sore. Every now and then I'd stop to rub away the wrenching pain. I wanted shoes but I arrived with none, and something told me I would leave with none as well. The ground was so stubborn and cold, sharp slabs of rock hidden beneath its surface, ripping at my flesh. I left faint trails of crimson in my path, concerned that monsters or wild animals might track down the smell of blood. I didn't like fighting alone, and now I was lost in an alien environment, no weapons or magic handy. For some reason, I wasn't scared, only determined.
The trees loomed above my head, encompassing me in a dense canopy of evergreen. Gnarled branches wickedly entwined with one another, creating natural bridges high up in the brushwood. It didn't bother me so much; I could hear them. They were desperately clutching to one another, so lonely, so despairing. Funny, I'd worked so hard all my life to keep from feeling that way and now I was just like them; hopelessly lost with no one to guide me. But at least they could hold each other and know that their journey through life was not in vain. I was beginning to wonder why I was making the journey in the first place.
The breeze blew haplessly through the thickets, rustling the dead leaves and tearing up the trail I'd already covered. There was no light, there was no dark. No cold, no warmth, no sun, no moon, no stars. No sky. I didn't even have so much as my own shadow to accompany me. I wished Squall were there. I could give him my pleading stare and he would hold my hand and help me through my struggles. I knew I couldn't depend on him for protection all the time, but it would be nice to be comforted in his reassuring presence. We had been together so long I'd forgotten how to manage on my own. Completely, utterly isolated from all other human life.
I wasn't afraid of the unfamiliar territory so much as I was of my own inability. I had never been pushed to extraordinary limits before; I wondered if they even existed. I couldn't rationalize anything, couldn't form coherent thoughts. The only way I could manage to think straight was visualizing pictures and associating them with sounds and singular adjectives. Hard to describe, but not as hard as it is to deal with.
I heard a little girl's laugh ring through the dank mist and pierce the air. I looked around suspiciously, spotting a lone figure between two large trees. It was a small child with long midnight hair, her large brown eyes filled with mockery. It was a sick parody of me as a girl, a taunting image that tormented me throughout my course. She would skip along behind me, calling out strange syllables and reveling whenever she got under my skin. I couldn't get rid of her, couldn't make her go away, because she was me. The spoiled princess, the motherless daughter. I pushed the image away, unable to make sense of it at the time. She was an illusion that simply symbolized my childhood, a world of confusion, pain, and hopelessness.
Throughout my teen years I danced around in bliss, happy with myself for being able to defend my beliefs, proud that I knew how to take care of myself and those around me, enraptured by the fact that I had the power to change people's lives. I was the embodiment of the independent woman, and I took it in stride. I adopted an optimistic, albeit immature demeanor to battle the ghosts in my mind. I wanted to take away the pain of my mother's untimely death, of my father's stern rules and indifference. I wanted to free myself from my place as the General's daughter; especially considering my dad held a high-ranking position in the militia I despised.
Doppelgangers were perched up in the boughs pointing eagerly at me, their infectious laughter echoing in my ears. They followed me closely but I refused to look at them. I didn't want to be haunted with images of my former self, the michievous little brat. Would this illusion ever end? I saw my own face everywhere; hollow, empty eyes, black as night and twice as cold bored into my soul. I averted my gaze, turning to face more heinous mirages. Painful reminders of the unalterable past sprung fresh in my mind.
I picked up my pace, lifting my billowing white skirts and ignoring the burning sensation that shot through my feet as they were mercilessly ravaged by the harsh terrain. I didn't know how long I could run, how long I would need to run, if I could even find a place to run to. Fragments of memories weighed heavily in my consciousness as I raced through everything I might have done wrong in my life to deserve this torture. And yet it only gets worse.
I reached a clearing, all of my hidious apparitions dogging behind me, in fear of what lie ahead. The ghastly trees had long since vanished, closing the path behind me. Now all I could see was an endless swamp, busy insects hovering above the murky bog. I strained my line of vision to search for something beyond the marsh, but found nothing. There was no turning back and no way to proceed. I raised the hem of my dress and distort the glassy surface with an experimental step. The water was warm and inviting, despite the cloudy, grayish tint. I let go of all misgivings and took the plunge, my heavy attire weighing me down.
I sank deeper into the unfriendly pond, trying in vain to stay afloat. I reached out with my arms to wade through, but it was a fruitless attempt; the water had the viscosity of molasses. I tried propelling myself with my legs and to no avail. I gave up my efforts, surrendering to the ever-thickening pool, letting it swallow me into a pit of darkness. Perhaps now I would get some peace. As my face sought seclusion in the depths of the marsh, I dared to breathe my last breath... and found that the water allowed as much oxygen as the air itself.
I opened my eyes tentatively, my vision blurred with a crystalline tint. I was drifting downwards, to an abyss of shimmering onyx, and my sore feet met the ground. My hair flowed weightlessly behind me, my arms reaching out into the unfamiliar waters to pull myself along. I managed a slow series of breaststrokes, cleaving a path towards the infinite darkness, amazed and a little disappointed that I wasn't drowning.
Light seemed to infiltrate my surroundings, filling me with a surge of hope. The light was comforting, warm and reassuring against the chill in my bones. My uplifting moment was crushed at the sight of a little girl sitting Indian-style on the marsh floor, her head bowed and her limbs idle. I shook my head, trying to banish the image; another mirage, another horrendous mockery of my adolescence. As hard as I tried, I couldn't turn away.
Slowly she rose, her arms still dangling limply at her sides. She swayed unsteadily on her feet as if she would tumble back down at any moment. A flash of silver could be seen as her right arm slowly raised, accompanied by her left. Her hands still appeared to be unused, hanging helplessly. I let myself sink to the bottom and take a tentative step forward, painfully curious. As I inched closer to her, I noticed the bluish tint to her skin, the fine lines encircling her wrists. I choked back a cry; thin strings were attached to her body, to every joint in her bones. Her neck slowly craned upwards, her face rising deliberately to look into mine. And I released an inaudible scream.
She had no face. I stared into a gaping, empty hollow, a void cavity left unfilled. The cruel strings of the marionette tugged at her body, jerking it violently, as my own frame responded in a similar fashion. I started convulsing, a hidden force bending and twisting my body at unreasonable angles, forcing me to crumple to the ground in a heap. I looked up, a harrowing ache in my sides, a burning in my veins. Meeting my narrowed gaze was a circle of faceless entities, all replicas of my very existance. Their hands reached for me from all angles, their fierce claws digging into my flesh, blood marring the chaste designs in my dress. I opened my mouth to shriek in protest, but found the only thing I could do was suck water into my lungs. Any further resistance died on my lips as tight twine was coiled around my wrists and ankles.
I was nothing more but a puppet, watching through the eyes of my master.
A/N: Sorry I've been gone so long everyone! I've really been neglecting my writing lately; I've had to practice day-in and day-out for our dance production coming up, and to make matters worse, I've had to skip art class to rehearse for this thing! Meaning I have a lot of painting to do at home for this to be done on time! I know, excuses, excuses! But I have the next part of "A Stab in the Dark" almost complete, as well as a few new side projects underway!
Disclaimer: Rinoa belongs to Squaresoft but the story is *mine*! So ha-ha to the makers of Final Fantasy 8! Even though without them, this wouldn't exist...
My bare feet pressed against the unyielding earth, wearing themselves sore. Every now and then I'd stop to rub away the wrenching pain. I wanted shoes but I arrived with none, and something told me I would leave with none as well. The ground was so stubborn and cold, sharp slabs of rock hidden beneath its surface, ripping at my flesh. I left faint trails of crimson in my path, concerned that monsters or wild animals might track down the smell of blood. I didn't like fighting alone, and now I was lost in an alien environment, no weapons or magic handy. For some reason, I wasn't scared, only determined.
The trees loomed above my head, encompassing me in a dense canopy of evergreen. Gnarled branches wickedly entwined with one another, creating natural bridges high up in the brushwood. It didn't bother me so much; I could hear them. They were desperately clutching to one another, so lonely, so despairing. Funny, I'd worked so hard all my life to keep from feeling that way and now I was just like them; hopelessly lost with no one to guide me. But at least they could hold each other and know that their journey through life was not in vain. I was beginning to wonder why I was making the journey in the first place.
The breeze blew haplessly through the thickets, rustling the dead leaves and tearing up the trail I'd already covered. There was no light, there was no dark. No cold, no warmth, no sun, no moon, no stars. No sky. I didn't even have so much as my own shadow to accompany me. I wished Squall were there. I could give him my pleading stare and he would hold my hand and help me through my struggles. I knew I couldn't depend on him for protection all the time, but it would be nice to be comforted in his reassuring presence. We had been together so long I'd forgotten how to manage on my own. Completely, utterly isolated from all other human life.
I wasn't afraid of the unfamiliar territory so much as I was of my own inability. I had never been pushed to extraordinary limits before; I wondered if they even existed. I couldn't rationalize anything, couldn't form coherent thoughts. The only way I could manage to think straight was visualizing pictures and associating them with sounds and singular adjectives. Hard to describe, but not as hard as it is to deal with.
I heard a little girl's laugh ring through the dank mist and pierce the air. I looked around suspiciously, spotting a lone figure between two large trees. It was a small child with long midnight hair, her large brown eyes filled with mockery. It was a sick parody of me as a girl, a taunting image that tormented me throughout my course. She would skip along behind me, calling out strange syllables and reveling whenever she got under my skin. I couldn't get rid of her, couldn't make her go away, because she was me. The spoiled princess, the motherless daughter. I pushed the image away, unable to make sense of it at the time. She was an illusion that simply symbolized my childhood, a world of confusion, pain, and hopelessness.
Throughout my teen years I danced around in bliss, happy with myself for being able to defend my beliefs, proud that I knew how to take care of myself and those around me, enraptured by the fact that I had the power to change people's lives. I was the embodiment of the independent woman, and I took it in stride. I adopted an optimistic, albeit immature demeanor to battle the ghosts in my mind. I wanted to take away the pain of my mother's untimely death, of my father's stern rules and indifference. I wanted to free myself from my place as the General's daughter; especially considering my dad held a high-ranking position in the militia I despised.
Doppelgangers were perched up in the boughs pointing eagerly at me, their infectious laughter echoing in my ears. They followed me closely but I refused to look at them. I didn't want to be haunted with images of my former self, the michievous little brat. Would this illusion ever end? I saw my own face everywhere; hollow, empty eyes, black as night and twice as cold bored into my soul. I averted my gaze, turning to face more heinous mirages. Painful reminders of the unalterable past sprung fresh in my mind.
I picked up my pace, lifting my billowing white skirts and ignoring the burning sensation that shot through my feet as they were mercilessly ravaged by the harsh terrain. I didn't know how long I could run, how long I would need to run, if I could even find a place to run to. Fragments of memories weighed heavily in my consciousness as I raced through everything I might have done wrong in my life to deserve this torture. And yet it only gets worse.
I reached a clearing, all of my hidious apparitions dogging behind me, in fear of what lie ahead. The ghastly trees had long since vanished, closing the path behind me. Now all I could see was an endless swamp, busy insects hovering above the murky bog. I strained my line of vision to search for something beyond the marsh, but found nothing. There was no turning back and no way to proceed. I raised the hem of my dress and distort the glassy surface with an experimental step. The water was warm and inviting, despite the cloudy, grayish tint. I let go of all misgivings and took the plunge, my heavy attire weighing me down.
I sank deeper into the unfriendly pond, trying in vain to stay afloat. I reached out with my arms to wade through, but it was a fruitless attempt; the water had the viscosity of molasses. I tried propelling myself with my legs and to no avail. I gave up my efforts, surrendering to the ever-thickening pool, letting it swallow me into a pit of darkness. Perhaps now I would get some peace. As my face sought seclusion in the depths of the marsh, I dared to breathe my last breath... and found that the water allowed as much oxygen as the air itself.
I opened my eyes tentatively, my vision blurred with a crystalline tint. I was drifting downwards, to an abyss of shimmering onyx, and my sore feet met the ground. My hair flowed weightlessly behind me, my arms reaching out into the unfamiliar waters to pull myself along. I managed a slow series of breaststrokes, cleaving a path towards the infinite darkness, amazed and a little disappointed that I wasn't drowning.
Light seemed to infiltrate my surroundings, filling me with a surge of hope. The light was comforting, warm and reassuring against the chill in my bones. My uplifting moment was crushed at the sight of a little girl sitting Indian-style on the marsh floor, her head bowed and her limbs idle. I shook my head, trying to banish the image; another mirage, another horrendous mockery of my adolescence. As hard as I tried, I couldn't turn away.
Slowly she rose, her arms still dangling limply at her sides. She swayed unsteadily on her feet as if she would tumble back down at any moment. A flash of silver could be seen as her right arm slowly raised, accompanied by her left. Her hands still appeared to be unused, hanging helplessly. I let myself sink to the bottom and take a tentative step forward, painfully curious. As I inched closer to her, I noticed the bluish tint to her skin, the fine lines encircling her wrists. I choked back a cry; thin strings were attached to her body, to every joint in her bones. Her neck slowly craned upwards, her face rising deliberately to look into mine. And I released an inaudible scream.
She had no face. I stared into a gaping, empty hollow, a void cavity left unfilled. The cruel strings of the marionette tugged at her body, jerking it violently, as my own frame responded in a similar fashion. I started convulsing, a hidden force bending and twisting my body at unreasonable angles, forcing me to crumple to the ground in a heap. I looked up, a harrowing ache in my sides, a burning in my veins. Meeting my narrowed gaze was a circle of faceless entities, all replicas of my very existance. Their hands reached for me from all angles, their fierce claws digging into my flesh, blood marring the chaste designs in my dress. I opened my mouth to shriek in protest, but found the only thing I could do was suck water into my lungs. Any further resistance died on my lips as tight twine was coiled around my wrists and ankles.
I was nothing more but a puppet, watching through the eyes of my master.