Happiness, freedom, peace. Nothing in life comes easy. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say nothing good in life comes easy. Pain, betrayal, and war came crashing into Irene's life on a whim. Each one twisting her into something more monstrous with every pass.
Even now, she carried the weight of her mistakes. The chains digging into the tender flesh of her wrists. Tendrils of pain constricting throughout her body serpents waiting with baited breathe. Bones, broken, and reformed. An ever-present echo; nothing quite the same. Her eyes slipped shut, and her cell resurrected. Painted beneath her eyelids was a prison of her design.
How long had she existed here? Days, weeks, years? At great exertion, she pried her eyes open, absorbing the verdant foliage. Did it matter? Here she was living, if it could be considered such, like a hermit-a coward-in the forest as the world burned for her sins.
Clutching the grass between her fingers, she focused on breathing. The world continued to tilt, taking her with it; balance as lost as her humanity. Branches rustled out of sight. A patter sounded in the distance. Honeysuckle wafting in the air as the world shifted and Irene buried as sun-dappled locks obscured her vision.
"Thank Ankhseram you're alive." Arms exuding warmth enveloped Irene as she took in the hushed thanks.
After everything..."Anna?" Her hands trembled as she closed the distance to caress the celestial mage's face.
"I wish I could have been there when you needed me."Anna traced the cut on her cheek. "I can't even imagine…" she trailed off. The silence was accompanied by nervous energy in the air. Irene could hardly remain still her lessons in decorum escaping her memory. The celestial mage broke eye contact looking anywhere but Irene. Did she appear so horrendous? Their gazes met again. Watery eyes were greeting her own unwavering. "If I could,"-her voice quivered like an arrow about to be loosed-"I would kiss away all your scars."
"It won't change anything." No force in the world could wash her hands clean.
"You're right,"-Anna drew close resting her forehead against Irene's-"there's no turning back the clock. That does not mean it's hopeless." Silence conquered the space between the pair; only the sounds of nature disrupting the quiet.
It was a comfortable delusion, the fantasy that all was within reach, but Irene did not hold any passion for it. She could not discern where it began; dragonification, Belserion's demise, or when they went their separate ways...but lies could not warp reality. The world they were born into was dead.
Anna continued, "We can-"
"Fix this?" Irene could not restrain the scoff that passed her lips. Blood did not wash out that easy.
"We may not be able to change the past, but the future is ours." Anna pressed a chaste kiss to her lips; the moment passed as fleeting as the flutter of a butterfly's wings. They bore an immeasurable weight as her spirits lifted, leaving her feeling lighter than she had in ages. Perhaps all was lost...that did not mean it could not be found again.
I've probably mentioned this in one of my previous Irene fics, but I really feel that Irene is the epitome of "the road to hell is paved with good intentions." Everything she ends up doing is for the right reasons and it just comes back to bite her; it's tragic T.T
Anyway, thanks for reading! Any comments, kudos, etc. are always appreciated (*≧▽≦)