I want to be Strong.
A little girl lay alone in a natural ditch, her legs broken to the point that she was sure trying to run away would be impossible, even if she had the energy to try. Monsters covered the forest, making any attempt to escape all the more unlikely. They would be coming soon, no doubt, drawn by the negativity. Not just the small fry, but the King Taijitu and the Deathstalkers famous to the area. Earlier she had been bathing in her own sorrow and pain, likely a beacon to any of the beasts in the area. It wouldn't be long now.
She wouldn't be able to fight them herself, that was for sure, even disregarding the broken limbs. Blood flowed freely from where her hands once were, their removal being a common punishment for thieves. Many in her town, most of her family included, suffered this trying to get food on the table. Her punishment ended up a lot worse than the others, the two men standing above her reminded. Only an idiot tried to steal from a shop that was protected by the mob, and she was certainly an idiot.
They were here to make sure she died as slowly as possible, flicking cigarette ashes in her direction and dirtying the snow piling up around her. The occasion bullet casing was ejected her way as well as the men made short work of the Beowolves and Ursi of the area, confident and competent in their abilities enough to make short work of the smaller species of the forest. Hopefully they would still be here by the time the bigger threats came around, and hopefully she would be aware enough to watch them get torn limb from limb.
The pain in her limbs had long since passed, a numbness spreading through the whole of her body now even as the world seemed to grow darker and less real. The men standing above her were laughing about something, talking casually as if this were an everyday occurrence. Momentary bursts of fire came from their weapons, these sporadic shots being all the attention they gave to the creatures around them. Earlier on they had made the attempt at conversation, to insult or talk down to her, but they had quickly given up when they received no response. They were stronger than her, she knew, but they were unlikely to do anything other than let her bleed out in the snow in their attempt to teach her a lesson.
That lesson, of course, was not to steal from them, a common agreement between gangs and shops in their territory. She had made the mistake of thinking she needed food, now she just needed blood. The hunger was a pain she was used to, not that the fact made it any less pressing, but it seemed like such a silly thing where she now lay, that she would risk so much for so little. Not that it mattered much to anyone now, they may as well just kill her and say they did their job, but the sick bastards would be spreading stories of how slowly she bled out come sunrise.
Those men though, as she looked up towards them, she couldn't help but look past them, towards the light of Remnant's shattered moon. More specifically, she couldn't help but notice they were blocking the view.
The moon was a sight she was used to. She would often lie out on the roof of her house during the warmer seasons, the sky being her only company, though it was unusual for it to be uncovered by stormclouds this time of year. She was able to stare at the moon even as pure, unadulterated snow fell upon her, piling up enough to make her unable to move, as weak as she was, not that she would have had the energy anyway.
The men, why won't they move? The ash of their cigarettes came down upon her like the snow, soiling the white with a wicked grey. It made the girl mad, for some reason. She tried to say something, to tell them to move, but her throat was destroyed, torn from all the screaming she'd done earlier.
"S-st-ah-" The sound came out quiet, the air just barely able to carry it over to the guards and break their chatter. With smiles they turned to her, seeming humoured such a broken thing could still talk.
"Ya still got some figh' left?" The gruff voice of one greeted her, his yellowed teeth standing out in the black of night and the flare of his cigarette making the shadows of his face stretch unevenly. "Alrigh', I'll bite. Wha' ya gotta say, lass? Ya last words?"
He stepped closer, leaning over her broken body and sneering, his cruel expression making her feel like a bug squirming in the interim period between life and death. He was a cat playing with its prey at this point, only interested because she was doing something vaguely entertaining. It was, frankly, disgusting.
She tried to speak again but nothing came of it except a waste of breath. It hurt to breathe, too much to be trying to talk to people like this. They just needed to move, she just wanted to see the moon.
"L-lea-ve-" she wheezed. Just leave her be, just let her enjoy the sky.
Both of them men laughed at this, laughed at her. The closer one leaned down to look at her face, close enough she could see the ugly pores that pocketed his face and the diminutive scars that marred him. His smile was sickening and she was sure that if she had the energy and ability, she would have thrown up. He opened his mouth and the smell of alcohol washed over her as he began to talk.
"Lass, ya aren' in 'ta position 'ta be makin' demands, now are ya? In fact," he made to grab at her throat, though she felt nothing, her nerves spent ages ago, "if I were ya, I'd be beggin' and pleadin' for ya merciful," his spittle sprayed on her face, "guardians 'ta be endin' ya where ya lie." His smile only grew, why was he like this? She just wanted to see the moon.
I want to be Feared.
That was odd. Is that her thinking that? Fear would be nice right now, they would move if they were afraid. Her mouth opened again, and nothing. She was spent, it was too much to even close it.
"An' there goes ya figh'. I hope ya burn nicely." He stood and delivered a kick to her side, a small spark of pain working through the numbness but otherwise went unnoticed. As they began walking away, presuming her near enough dead, she was surprised she was able to give a smile as the moon was clear.
It looked nice, she thought. Far better without the light pollution of the inner-city. The beams of light stemming from it seemed brighter than usual, though they were nothing to the moon itself, which was almost blinding.
Her vision faded along with the forest around her, the snow, the stars, the sky. All that was left was the moon, even as her eyes drifted shut. Idly, she heard an animalistic growling off to her left, but she ignored it. It was fine if she died here, as long as she got to be with the moon.
The growling grew in intensity as the lone wolf was joined by others, rising until it was all encompassing only to abruptly stop, the entire forest stilling. Her mouth, as if it had a mind of it own, she could feel it form words, her sluggish tongue just barely getting out what was being shouted in her mind, a thought she was sure wasn't her own. It took her a moment to process the words, just before the world went black.
"I want to be Powerful."
The usual blackness of unconsciousness set in, drowning even her thoughts in a void of nothingness. She could hear nothing, she could feel nothing, she was nothing. Nothing except the light of Remnant's crescent moon, shining even in the void.
Well aren't you a pitiful little thing.
Somebody spoke. It wasn't words, nothing she could hear, nor was it something transmitted into her thoughts. It was a distinct knowledge of what was being said, rather than sensing them and knowing the meaning behind them. She simply knew the meanings, almost as if recalled from a memory.
Alone and abandoned, such a small child. Where are your parents?
She began to feel, the sensation pulling her from the void and lighting the world through the moon's beams, intense phantom pains made her want to grasp her non-existant hands, to claw at them and try to escape the pain. It would have been all-consuming, had there been much left of her to consume.
Such an odd little soul you have. Who are you?
She felt as if she should say something, as if she had to say something, but there were no words to form, no thoughts to give form, no mouth to form them with.
Disappointing, truly. A waste.
The moon, it was intense. If she were able she would have been blinded by now. It hurt distantly, contributing somewhat to the pain in her hands, but it was more of a welcoming pain, one she knew came from something she loved, that it was for her own good. The pain was anchoring, dragging her as more and more of the world became lit.
Oh?
More pain, the moon was intense, its beams cutting into her soul like a rusted knife, digging in and prying her apart. The void faded, moving away from a lack of anything physical to a lack of anything. There was only the moon in all its glory, bright and united in its shards even as the world came into existence.
I was mistaken.
There was no child, lying in a ditch. There was no void of consciousness. There was no anything, and there was no nothing. There was only the moon. The world it gave light to wasn't there, even as it came further and further into focus.
...
Her soul came undone, split by the moon itself, her pieces beginning to drift apart, held together only by God-knows-what. She was less and less herself, less and less her spirit as she began to scatter the shards of her soul. They were no longer bound together by whatever supernatural laws were in place and had no desire to stay, the moon no longer keeping her there.
Perhaps you could be useful.
And all at once, it reversed. A soul was recreated, pain returned, a body breathed life anew. Quickly, as if done easily by someone with far too much practice, she was whole. True unconsciousness came then, the moon fading away into a present nothingness.
She awoke to the most beautiful and terrifying sight she'd ever seen. Standing tall was a figure, cold and intimidating as the moon's beams framed her face perfectly, her eyes radiating an ominous red glow not dissimilar to that of a Grimm. It was difficult to see much of anything else in the night, all her attention drawn to the woman's skin, pale to the point that it was white as shadows crawled up and down her cheeks.
The girl was lying down on her back, staring up at the woman standing above her. Some time must have passed since she'd last been awake, as the moon, once again scattered into shards, was just past the woman high in the sky. She lay in shock, her mouth open but unable to form any words as a Beowolf came into the edge of her vision, leering down at her much like the woman. A moment passed in fear only to give way to confusion as the woman placed a hand on the Beowolf's head, petting it like a dog.
"My dear," she said, drawing her attention back as a malicious grin spread across her face, "tell me you name."
The girl hesitated, pondering how to respond only to realize there was no more pain. Her eyes widen even further than they had already as she brought her hands to her face to find they were there, despite being cut off earlier. Even her legs felt fine, were fine.
She looked back to the woman, who only raised an eyebrow as her smile grew, seeming more amused than anything. They stared at one another in silence until finally the girl spoke.
"Cinder," she said, "my name is Cinder."
A/N: Been practicing trying to use like metaphors and whatnot in writing. Any and all reviews are appreciated, critiques are 100% welcome.