Cool, second one-shot of the night. Er, morning. Edit: Okay, I took this down, messed with it a bit, and put it back up. Enjoy.
Title: Mana
Summary: It was still there, it's black tendrils clutching at her mind, trying to get her to... no, she couldn't succumb to it. She didn't want to become like them, to let it warp her mind into some sick, twisted fragment of what she once was.
Word Count: 765
Rating: K Plus
Genre: Angst
I've only played Warcraft III and a little bit of World of Warcraft, and that was a while ago, so don't come after me wielding torches and pitchforks if I have any information relevant to the game wrong. ;P
--
It was far from a secret that blood elves were mana addicts. Everyone knew it. It had been there downfall. And it was apparent to Pira, even at a young age, that it was unhealthy. She had seen the effect it had had on too many blood elves. She had seen the almost insane gleam in their eyes. She had seen the need. She had seen it...
So that's why she went for the only non-mana using class that a blood elf was capable of. A rogue. A master of deception, an adversary to those who dare not look in the shadows, of those who feared what lurked there, someone considered scum by the very society that used them for their own needs.
Despite the fear of everyone around her, despite their disgusted glared when they found out what she was, she continued to do it, she continued to avoid anything that could possibly pull her into the dark web of desire that mana had too many blood elves trapped in. She joined and left countless guilds, filled with people just like her. As hated, as shunned, they feared the power too. Being around her own kind made her feel the same shame and revulsion that many did when they hear the word 'rogue'. So she had run from that too, abandoning those she had once considered friends, her family, when she had seen that same need for it. She ignored the constant nagging in the back of her mind, weaking her defenses despite her protests, bringing her closer to the ever-there lure of magic. She kept ignoring it, kept running. Maybe, if she ran fast enough...
It was still there, it's black tendrils clutching at her mind, trying to get her to... no, she couldn't succumb to it. She didn't want to become like them, to let it warp her mind into some sick, twisted fragment of what she once was. She wouldn't let that happen.
So she kept running.
--
She was in a cave, panting, exhausted from using Sprint too much in a small amount of time when the thought came, a nagging doubt spreading like a disease through her body. Was she weak? Weak for running instead of dealing with it? Immediate denial coursed through her. No! The mana-users were the weak ones, letting the addiction overcome them. They were the weak ones. And the weak were the enemies to the strong. And she was strong. That means mana-users were the enemies... right?
She froze when a voice cut through the darkness.
"Pira?"
Aelfric... her brother. A warlock. A mana-user. A weak person. An enemy. She turned, seeing her brother by the entrance of the cave, a torch illuminating his features. She hissed, her body tensing. Mana-user. Traitor. Traitor...
Aelfric stepped further into the cave, the torch like a miniature sun, the light snaking through the darkness. She backed away before the light could touch her. She was a rogue, a creature of the shadows. She and light were enemies. She and mana-users were enemies. She didn't take it well when enemies had her cornered.
"Pira?" He called again, softly, stepping closer. She stepped back, running into a wall. With nowhere to go, the advancing light finally touched her. Aelfric immediately noticed her. "Pira, there you are. Why did you run from me-"
Before either could register what happened, her arm shot out, the dagger in her hand flying through the air, barely missing Aelfric's shoulder. "Pira, what are you-"
She lashed out, this dagger bigger, meant for combat, not throwing. The dagger embedded itself in Aelfric's shoulder. He fell to the ground, looking up at her, eyes swirling with emotion. Shock, fear, pain, emotional and physical.
It shouldn't have affected her so badly, those wide, accusing eyes staring at her, through her. He was a mana-user, a traitor, an enemy... her brother. Oh, god. She felt sick as the full implications of what she had done hit her. "Aelfric... I'm so sorry." She sprinted away, ignoring her brother's yell.
She had refused to realize it until now... the mana had won. It had twisted her mind, destroying what she had once been, turning her into someone who would attack her own family without thought. And she had too wonder... who was the insane ones? The ones that let the mana twist them, or the ones who ran, turning into something just as bad? Maybe worse.
That meant she was a weak one. And weak ones were her enemies. Enemies had to die. That meant she had to die.
--
Eh, so-so ending. I might continue this if I get a decent idea for it. Until then, I'll mark it as complete.