She was angry. The whole things just infuriated her. None of even made sense! She grumbled curses under her breath. It was one thing to just write a story, but now she had to write a short story that was at most ten pages! Madness! All the hard work she had put in, the time, the effort, was wasted.
"Ugh," She moaned as she dragged her hands down her face
Why did I ever sign up for this, she thought. She could write stories; give her a topic and she could just bang one out, but this stupid, open-ended, short, little, trash thing was too much. She had worked so hard and now it was wasted. She couldn't use it anymore, but it had consumed her thoughts, the ideas and whispers of personalities forming, the twisting tales of existence, and the silly little string of life that she was creating. She could see her characters in her head. Their faces twisting with emotion. And the thought that they needn't exist anymore, it was just too much. It was hard to write stories sometimes. The characters had their own lives and it felt strange to write out their tales without them happening first, but how could they have a life without her writing it first? The stresses of writing.
It didn't matter. She shook her head and refocused on the words displayed on the screen. So much to write, so little time. A pitiful whimper quietly escaped her lips. I'm not a machine, she thought moodily.
"Telling me to write like I'm their slave. It's not like I just throw up rainbows and words. Where do they think inspiration comes from?" Her grumbles did nothing, not that she thought they would.
She reluctantly began typing up whatever crossed her mind, only to angrily huff and delete everything she had written. None of the ideas she had were working. She would start, but she just wasn't into it. There was literally nothing for her to write. Any other topics than the ones already started were meaningless. There was just nothing fun about writing a nothing story about nothing. She just needed some idea, any idea. She glanced at her bookshelf to check her clock. That was it! She never really did finish that book. She stood and grabbed a book from the right of the clock, paging through it was a hungry look in her eye. The ending was right there, begging her to write itself out. The characters, oh, how she had missed them. Their intricate relationship and the way they always seemed to dance around each other. A god of ancient had become entangled in the life of a wizard, a mortal. Cliché, yes, but she couldn't help but twist the tale together. She had to get back to work. This new ending was what she needed to gain inspiration again. Ch
"It's not my fault! Why won't you just listen to me?" His voice cracked.
"I tried, Loki. You're not doing anything to help! Stop insisting it's always your way. I'm tired of listening to you whine all the time. I'm tired of you."
Loki clenched his teeth and his eyes started watering. "I'm not the one throwing my life away. Joining the Dark Lord, becoming his servant just to please 'daddy dearest'. It's pathetic, the way you can't do anything yourself. When will you grow up, Draco? I hate waiting for you to be your own person. Don't you have a personality of your own? Or are you just a copy of your father, too scared to do anything other than kissing the Dark Lord's shoes?"
Draco scoffed, "This is what I want to do with my life. At least I have something. You just joke off, run around without a care in the world and cry about how no one loves you. That's what's pathetic. And why does it matter what I do? It's not like you actually care about me. You just wish someone loved you and you pretend that I do."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Loki hissed, his purple eyes glowing. "I don't care about that stuff, unlike you. I have what I need, and it's not you. I see now that I've just wasted my life. Being friends with you was the biggest mistake in my life. I don't even know why I agreed to be friends with someone like you."
"If anyone should be saying that, it should be me. You don't even have people that care about you. Why should I care about some peasant that is just gonna die alone in an alley? I know you, Loki, and I know that you can't do anything in life. I was the one to carry you through school and helped your social standing. No one here actually likes you."
Draco's steely grey eyes seemed to pierce a hole in Loki's chest. He couldn't breathe. He bowed his head to hide the tears that dripped down his cheeks, black hair creating a think curtain between the two of them.
"Just go, Draco. No need to stay here with me, the 'peasant'. Enjoy your stay with the Dark Lord. I'm sure he'll be very happy to see that you've broken ties with me. I was wrong to ever think that anything could work out between us. We're done. I can't stand the thought of you anymore. Just makes me wanna throw up, the fact that we might have actually had a family together. I don't know why I ever wanted that."
Loki turned away and swiftly walked back inside the castle, forcing himself to not turn around. His gait was swift and his posture tense. The farther into the building he walked, the more his mask slipped away. He crumpled into a ball against the wall.
"WHY? Fu- I... Why would he do this to me?" Loki sobbed, struggling to take a breath.
His chest flared with pain and his coughs shook his frail frame. Blood splattered on the floor and he wheezed, his eyes fluttering. It was becoming too much. He was so tired. He had stayed for him, kept going through the pain and pretended that everything was okay, but it was for nothing and now he was dying. He felt so stupid, staying for some human.
"Home… Gotta get home," Loki shakily lifted his hands and began to create an array of runes.
The blood he had coughed up smeared and he chanted in the language of the Gods. At the end of it, he could hardly breathe. He could feel his heart stuttering and he felt so cold. He couldn't feel his body anymore and it was like he had only imagined what warmth was. It hurt to think about what he suffered in order to stay, in order to care about someone he thought cared.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." A fresh bout of tears fell and he collapsed on his writing. He inhaled sharply and then he felt nothing more.
The runes glowed bright red and with a blinding flash, everything disappeared. There was nothing left in the corridor, not even a speck of blood. It was as if he had never existed.
Outside, the wind howled and thunder rumbled in the distance. The gates to the castle creaked and the building seemed to freeze as if magic herself was mourning. The sky was black and shadows crawled across the ground and in corners. A feeling of despair fell upon one boy. His feelings were stifling and his magic seemed to swirl in tandem with his emotions. Was it all a mistake? Could he ever take it back? No, he took a shuddering breathe and pressed his lips together, trying to stop the cries of agony that ached to rip from his throat. What had he done? He had just been so angry. He hadn't meant it. He'd never meant to hurt him. Oh, how he wished it would stop. It was too painful. He gripped his shirt with both hands and fell to his knees. It was as if something had torn from his soul and he knew that he deserved this. This terrible pain that seemed to be all consuming. Despite how Loki appeared, he knew what he said had cut deeper than anything else. He knew it would and that was why he said those hateful words. Those words! Utter loathing filled his soul, but not at Loki. Never Loki. He hated himself. This revelation elicited choked laughter from him. He really was nothing. He had never really been his own person, at least not without Loki. Loki brought the real him out and with Loki gone, all he was, all that was left, was merely a copy of him father stained with despair and hate.
Draco rose to his feet, unfeeling. He was nothing and being nothing meant that he could sink into the darkness that grew inside. He would suffer as he was meant to and he would never complain because nothing had no right to complaint. Nothing was only glad he could still feel something. It was a reminder of what he had thrown away. He could never love again nor did he want to. His heart had never really belonged to him anyway and he was content with leaving it behind.
"Finally!" She jumped up and kissed her computer screen. "There are words!"
Lilith seemed to vibrate with energy and she felt restless. The dam had been broken and now words seem to want to fall from her hands. They twitched at the thought of writing more and she could feel the stories building up. She quickly pulled her hair up so that she could think better. How many times had she done this? Suddenly found inspiration and never wanted to stop writing all the words that were thrown from her brain? How she loved it. The thrill of slowly drawing up the character from out of the depths and spinning the web of fate. More characters wanted to live and she was always willing to give them a home in words she wrote. How could she deny them life when she couldn't live without them? Before she had started writing, she was always missing something. When she read, she could feel things stirring inside her at the thought of what the characters might do. Boiling over one day, she started writing. It was a poor attempt, but she couldn't stop. She collected notebooks so that she would never have to worry about running out of space and the ideas slipping off. She wrote everything that came to mind where ever she could. In the middle of tests, inspiration struck and she was left with the sides and the back page full of words and notes. It was like she had finally found that missing spot inside herself. That empty feeling never felt empty anymore as it was home to all she had ever written.
She was free when she was writing and rules didn't apply to life. The dead could walk and the shadows could talk. Gravity might not even need to be a thing. Maybe Earth never existed. Lilith never had to do anything but dream. Her dreams created the dreams of others and they were not just words on paper, but an actual world. Something to bring life to others.