Leviathan's Daughter
GoldenEagle
Author's Notes: Hey, everybody! This is the LONGEST installment yet, but it is a very, very, VERY important installment. I spent a long time on it and it IS rather descriptive, so I apologize for those who find that boring. Another quick thing. I'd like to ask that if you have anything to say to me, something you believe about my personal charector, please do so in an email or something. I really, really don't enjoy being called a slut at all, much less one in front of all these people who I'm writing for. I'm not too angry, because it's absurdly untrue, but I am kind of upset and offended. Plus, it just shows an extreme lack of respect to me as a writer to bash me in front of my readers, cause it really does matter to me what you guys think of me. That's all I really wanted to say about that, and that's it. I won't say anything more, it's a forgotten matter from here on out, just please take what I said into consideration. Thakyou. Now, please, enjoy the story and review!
Chapter Forty-Seven
"Agh!" The grunt melded in with the sounds of battle, unheard even by the one who issued it. Persephone took no time in her usual games, her usual teasing before the kill (a thing that she had picked up on from Dillandau... or perhaps Dillandau picked it up off of her...?). She swung and hit flesh, turned again, stained blade singing in the air, hit more flesh, and so it went. She had arrived deep into the battle and, although she had charged in not half an hour ago, she was in the midst of it. Her arms screamed with pain, her stomach cramped with effort, her legs quaked beneath her. Yet still she fought. She silently cursed herself for not taking the time to saddle a horse to bring to the battle, for she was still tired from her run here.
It was hard to tell if the blood that covered her was her own or her enemy's, for it melted together and there was so much collective agony in her muscles and bones that she couldn't decipher from a cramp or a cut. She was trying to find the time, the time to look around, look for those she had promised Hitomi she would protect. A warm, gasping body barreled into hers and she turned, bringing her blade above her head and bringing it down on instinct.
She was shattered from her battle rage as her blade met her opponents, for few had blocked her swift movements the entire fight. She was pulled even further into her rational mind as two blue eyes stared back at her through crimson stained blonde strands.
"Allen..." She muttered, noticing for the first time that her lips were cracked, suddenly realizing that she had somehow received numerous lacerations over her entire body. Now that she had been torn from the blood bath around her, torn from her primal instincts of survival into the world of human emotions and fears, she could feel the weariness in her limbs. Her legs threatened to give out beneath the weight of her body, but did not do so since most of her weight was focused on the blade which the knight before her was holding with his own.
"Persephone, what the hell are you doing here?!" Allen's voice could barely be heard above the roar of the battle surrounding them. Fear and despair distorted his wide, blue eyes. She had no time to speak before his blade moved like a snake and whipped out behind her. She turned quickly, her back being pushed across the knight's broad chest as a body fell against her. Allen easily pushed the body from her and turned once more to the battle. Persephone stumbled a bit as her weight was suddenly fully redeposited on her shaking legs, but she quickly recovered, raising her sword once more as the enemy pressed down upon her. She was pushed back to back with a form behind her and sighed in relief as she realized it was Allen.
"Where is Van?" She screamed out over the battle cries around them.
She heard the knight reply, his voice close to her ear, each slightly leaning on each other for support as they brought down adversary after adversary. "He's retrieving Escaflowne!" Allen cried out through gasps for air. Sweat gleamed off of his warmly toned skin, mixing with clinging and sticky blood. "My own guymelef was brought down during the fight. Mirama's troops-" Allen was momentarily interupted as one Zaibach soldier attacked him more violently and strongly that the others. He brought him down in a matter of seconds before continuing. "Mirama's troops have already been called out, but we and many of the army are still trapped here. Zaibach was stronger than we thought. They came at us with perfect form, perfect timing. The formation was pure genius, really."
'I see Folken has been at work.' Persephone thought grimly and yet proudly as she was charged by the enemy. Her blade met his, but her body betrayed her, her arms going out. Her sword fell from her grasp and she stumbled more fully into Allen's back, throwing him off balance, causing the knight to get a deep cut across his chest. The man that attacked Persephone glowered over her, victory in his eyes as he brought down his sword over his head. She caught the blade with her bare, exposed hands, and cried out as the metal bit deep into her palms. She had once had a sword such as this, so she knew the Zaibach soldier had a low rank in the military, for the blade was dull. She was thankful for this, for, if it had been a blade of better quality, as hers had been after her return from training, it would have cut clear through her hands and met her forehead, slicing through her scalp, her skull, into her brain... "Allen!" The cry was pain filled, feminine, and no longer calm, but slightly panicked as she slid to her knees.
She saw him turn out of the corner of her eye, a look of natural annoyance in his gaze, for he was exhausted from the battle and she, someone who should have stayed on his ship, had caused him a very painful wound deep across his chest. But as he took her in, the pain and fear embedded deep within her stance, the feminine and anguished tones in her voice still ringing in his ears, his shortness was replaced with an inhuman rage, a protective hate. His blue eyes were consumed with an animal anger, and he brought his blade forward with a howl, his handsome face contorted and disfigured with the fierce snarl that crossed his featured. The power of the sword as it hit flesh created a smooth movement, but it wrenched and objected to the knight's arms as the metal hit bone. But, overall, the man was easily cut clean in half, surprised and wide eyes his dying look as blood seeped from his mouth and he collapsed to the ground in two pieces.
Persephone remained on her knees, her skin pale, her limbs trembling as this new, unthinkable pain washed over her in waves. Her hands were still wrapped tightly around the sharp edge of the sword. Allen looked up as he heard the gliding of something in the air far above them. He could make out the dim outline of Escaflowne against the star studded sky before he rushed forward, kneeling at Persephone's side.
"We have to go, Perseph." He said calmly and quietly, the two of them momentarily forgotten among the crowd of soldiers around them.
She looked up at him and gave a shaky, half grin, which held no real warmth to it, but a certain amount of fear. "I... I can't let go." She said, indicating the sword. "In fact, I don't think I can even move or feel my hands. Is that bad?" She asked, but there was a certain edge of panic in her voice.
Allen said nothing, but reached out and gently unpried her fingers from the blade. It fell from her hands and she whimpered through clenched teeth as the knight unfolded her badly bleeding hands completely. "Heh. I felt that." She muttered, her lips drawn, her form shaking.
"We need to go." Allen's voice was soft, his brow drawn in concern for the girl, as he took her gently by the elbows and helped her up, her blood streaming down her arms and onto his already crimson stained gloves. As if on cue, the cry of men could be heard as they ducked below the low flying form of the metal dragon that swooped down over their heads. Escaflowne landed amidst the fighting, Van oblivious, as he piloted it, of the bodies the creature crushed and rammed, whether dead or alive, in the landing. Persephone saw his lips move as he cried out, but she could not hear a single syllable over the cries of the soldiers around them.
It was Allen that dragged her from her frozen position, pushing through the crowds, having very little conflict before reaching the metal machine. Allen's men were seated on the great creature, most of them, at least, and they greeted the both of them warmly. Some of them looked at Persephone in surprise, half out of the fact that they thought she had stayed behind, and half out at the sight of her badly marred hands. "Hold on tight!" Van yelled out as he commanded Escaflowne into the air.
The great metal creature's wings stirred and they lifted slowly from the ground. Persephone's head snapped to the side as she caught sight of the gleam of a piece of machinery and pale skin. The figure disappeared among the fighting almost instantly, but she cried out anyways. "Folken!" Her cry rang sharp through the battle roar and, even though the great Fanalian guymelef was rising steadily into the air, she could see him, emerge from the crowd. Still they rose, even as he ran forward, blood on his uniform. Five, ten feet from the ground... She reached for him, blood dripping down her fingers and onto his outstretched hand, she was so close to touching him.
She saw him mouth her name as he reached for her, but she could not hear his voice above Escaflowne's wings. She grasped air, leaning over, for one contact, one final touch... She felt herself begin to slip, but two firm arms grabbed her and pulled her to the side, the dragon's great, metal back obscuring her view of her lover below. She let out a small, despairful cry, so small that it couldn't be heard by others. And Escaflowne rose higher, faster now, until they were above the clouds, the battle site below invisible through the swirling wisps. She looked up at her restrainer, and met the angry gaze of Allen. His voice reached through her dizzied and dulled senses. "What did you think you were doing? You could have fallen, broken your neck-"
He was interupted as Escaflowne gave a hard jerk. The men fell and skidded to the right a little bit, one even falling off the side. Again, it was Allen who kept her from falling to her death as she grasped with hands that would not close for a hold. His hand came down, grabbed her by the collar, and pulled her back up to safety. "You shouldn't have come." He said, more out of a sudden concern than the previous anger.
"It's that bastard Dillandau!" One of the knight's men shouted. Persephone's senses heightened and she looked up. Sure enough, there floated the creature, a piece of torn metal on its side where it had purposefully come into contact with the Fanalian guymelef.
A growl of hatred and rage issued from Van's lips and there could be heard the insane cackling of laughter coming from the cockpit of the enemy. Dillandau surged forward, focusing on ramming Escaflowne again, hoping to throw the machine off balance. Persephone watched in wide eyed awe, torn, wanting her friends to live and win this airial combat, but desperately wishing for her brother, for that is what he was to her, to win as well so that his life might go on.
Van commanded his guymelef to the side sharply, Dillandau's own unit crashing into the creatures sharply metaled tail instead of its side. The tearing and twisting of metal could be heard as Escaflowne's tail dug deep into the other guymelef. For an agonizing moment, everything seemed to stand still, but then Dillandau's unit fell, unable to fly any longer. It was without thought that Persephone moved, flinging her weary body forward. "Persephone!" Allen's voice rang clear in her ears before she fell from the side.
There was this certain dread and human terror as she broke through the cloud barrier and the ground was displayed to her, far, but not too far, below. Yet, out of the pure, inhuman instinct which she carried, her wings sprang forth, disintegrating most of the material of her shirt in the back, making it hang loose around her shoulders. She dove down, angling her wings to make the descent faster, and, before long, the spinning and battered guymelef loomed before her.
She landed on the burnt metal and brought one of her flaming wings forward and through the hatch which opened to the pilot. Metal melted and with a simple, though clumsy, kick of her foot, the hatch was gone. She reached forward, almost blindly, and her hands met warm flesh. She brought his still conscious form out of the machine and lifted him up in her arms, her hands too torn to hold him with them. He looked up at her with wide, scared eyes. He could hear the crash of his guymelef as it hit the earth, but he could also hear the wind as it whistled past the two gliding forms.
Persephone landed softly on a part of the battle field that had been left long ago, blood and bodies piled around. The form cradled in her arms could hear her labored breathing, feel her trembling body. Dillandau felt the bond between him and the girl who held him, feel something... Love, admiration, perhaps? He was not sure. But there was also this poison, this insanity in his veins, and he felt that more prominent than the rest. He moved quickly yet gracefully, unnoticed by the exhausted girl which held him.
Persephone, for one short, rare moment in time, felt a certain level of peace. She could hear Dillandau breath calmly against her, feel him pressed warmly against her chest as she cradled him there, here eyes closed. And, if she listened close enough, she could hear his steady heartbeat. The slow rhythm calmed her, reminded her of cold nights in which she would go down in the night, lay her head to his chest, be lulled by its beat. She began to speak, her eyes still closed. "Dillandau, I-"
The words died in her throat and her eyes fluttered open, wide, unbelieving. The world came before her, slowly, and she stumbled to her knees, Dillandau falling from her arms. He rose quickly to his feet and met her eyes as she stared up at him, crystal tears falling down her questioning face. A grin split his lips and he began to laugh, uncontrollably, insanely, even as his own tears fell down his face as he sobbed for the deed he had done.
Persephone's blood pooled around her and the ringing of an inhuman scream echoed through her mind. A last tear was shed, and she fell. Gaea shuttered, it's life escaped it in a final breath, just as it did the form on that battle field.
*****************
Folken had seen her come down, her wings flaming in the darkness, and he had pushed through the diminishing battle, running, in need of just the sight of her. He had come across the clearing just as it happened. His mouth opened in a silent yell, too horrified as he found he was too late to save her from the events which now unfolded. Dillandau's arm moved as she held him, quickly and gracefully drawing the sword from it's scabbard at his side as she opened her mouth and spoke to him. The words died out, strangled, though, as the boy finished the final movement, embedding the sword to its hilt into his savior's abdomen. Their was a horrible moment of frozen time, Folken's own sword falling from his grasp, hitting the bloodied ground noiselessly, as he saw her fall to her knees, her love, her "home", as she once called him, standing, laughing, sobbing, all at once.
And then she fell from her kneeled position onto her side, the sword still impaling her, blood gushing from the wound. Folken found his legs suddenly and bolted forward. "Persephone!" Her name was a scream, drawn out, and as he kneeled by her motionless form, Dillandau still laughing in utter insanity behind him, he found it was too late. Her life had left her lips before she had even hit the ground.
Author's Note: *blinkblink* Wow. That happened faster than I thought it would. *blinkblinkblink*
GoldenEagle
Author's Notes: Hey, everybody! This is the LONGEST installment yet, but it is a very, very, VERY important installment. I spent a long time on it and it IS rather descriptive, so I apologize for those who find that boring. Another quick thing. I'd like to ask that if you have anything to say to me, something you believe about my personal charector, please do so in an email or something. I really, really don't enjoy being called a slut at all, much less one in front of all these people who I'm writing for. I'm not too angry, because it's absurdly untrue, but I am kind of upset and offended. Plus, it just shows an extreme lack of respect to me as a writer to bash me in front of my readers, cause it really does matter to me what you guys think of me. That's all I really wanted to say about that, and that's it. I won't say anything more, it's a forgotten matter from here on out, just please take what I said into consideration. Thakyou. Now, please, enjoy the story and review!
Chapter Forty-Seven
"Agh!" The grunt melded in with the sounds of battle, unheard even by the one who issued it. Persephone took no time in her usual games, her usual teasing before the kill (a thing that she had picked up on from Dillandau... or perhaps Dillandau picked it up off of her...?). She swung and hit flesh, turned again, stained blade singing in the air, hit more flesh, and so it went. She had arrived deep into the battle and, although she had charged in not half an hour ago, she was in the midst of it. Her arms screamed with pain, her stomach cramped with effort, her legs quaked beneath her. Yet still she fought. She silently cursed herself for not taking the time to saddle a horse to bring to the battle, for she was still tired from her run here.
It was hard to tell if the blood that covered her was her own or her enemy's, for it melted together and there was so much collective agony in her muscles and bones that she couldn't decipher from a cramp or a cut. She was trying to find the time, the time to look around, look for those she had promised Hitomi she would protect. A warm, gasping body barreled into hers and she turned, bringing her blade above her head and bringing it down on instinct.
She was shattered from her battle rage as her blade met her opponents, for few had blocked her swift movements the entire fight. She was pulled even further into her rational mind as two blue eyes stared back at her through crimson stained blonde strands.
"Allen..." She muttered, noticing for the first time that her lips were cracked, suddenly realizing that she had somehow received numerous lacerations over her entire body. Now that she had been torn from the blood bath around her, torn from her primal instincts of survival into the world of human emotions and fears, she could feel the weariness in her limbs. Her legs threatened to give out beneath the weight of her body, but did not do so since most of her weight was focused on the blade which the knight before her was holding with his own.
"Persephone, what the hell are you doing here?!" Allen's voice could barely be heard above the roar of the battle surrounding them. Fear and despair distorted his wide, blue eyes. She had no time to speak before his blade moved like a snake and whipped out behind her. She turned quickly, her back being pushed across the knight's broad chest as a body fell against her. Allen easily pushed the body from her and turned once more to the battle. Persephone stumbled a bit as her weight was suddenly fully redeposited on her shaking legs, but she quickly recovered, raising her sword once more as the enemy pressed down upon her. She was pushed back to back with a form behind her and sighed in relief as she realized it was Allen.
"Where is Van?" She screamed out over the battle cries around them.
She heard the knight reply, his voice close to her ear, each slightly leaning on each other for support as they brought down adversary after adversary. "He's retrieving Escaflowne!" Allen cried out through gasps for air. Sweat gleamed off of his warmly toned skin, mixing with clinging and sticky blood. "My own guymelef was brought down during the fight. Mirama's troops-" Allen was momentarily interupted as one Zaibach soldier attacked him more violently and strongly that the others. He brought him down in a matter of seconds before continuing. "Mirama's troops have already been called out, but we and many of the army are still trapped here. Zaibach was stronger than we thought. They came at us with perfect form, perfect timing. The formation was pure genius, really."
'I see Folken has been at work.' Persephone thought grimly and yet proudly as she was charged by the enemy. Her blade met his, but her body betrayed her, her arms going out. Her sword fell from her grasp and she stumbled more fully into Allen's back, throwing him off balance, causing the knight to get a deep cut across his chest. The man that attacked Persephone glowered over her, victory in his eyes as he brought down his sword over his head. She caught the blade with her bare, exposed hands, and cried out as the metal bit deep into her palms. She had once had a sword such as this, so she knew the Zaibach soldier had a low rank in the military, for the blade was dull. She was thankful for this, for, if it had been a blade of better quality, as hers had been after her return from training, it would have cut clear through her hands and met her forehead, slicing through her scalp, her skull, into her brain... "Allen!" The cry was pain filled, feminine, and no longer calm, but slightly panicked as she slid to her knees.
She saw him turn out of the corner of her eye, a look of natural annoyance in his gaze, for he was exhausted from the battle and she, someone who should have stayed on his ship, had caused him a very painful wound deep across his chest. But as he took her in, the pain and fear embedded deep within her stance, the feminine and anguished tones in her voice still ringing in his ears, his shortness was replaced with an inhuman rage, a protective hate. His blue eyes were consumed with an animal anger, and he brought his blade forward with a howl, his handsome face contorted and disfigured with the fierce snarl that crossed his featured. The power of the sword as it hit flesh created a smooth movement, but it wrenched and objected to the knight's arms as the metal hit bone. But, overall, the man was easily cut clean in half, surprised and wide eyes his dying look as blood seeped from his mouth and he collapsed to the ground in two pieces.
Persephone remained on her knees, her skin pale, her limbs trembling as this new, unthinkable pain washed over her in waves. Her hands were still wrapped tightly around the sharp edge of the sword. Allen looked up as he heard the gliding of something in the air far above them. He could make out the dim outline of Escaflowne against the star studded sky before he rushed forward, kneeling at Persephone's side.
"We have to go, Perseph." He said calmly and quietly, the two of them momentarily forgotten among the crowd of soldiers around them.
She looked up at him and gave a shaky, half grin, which held no real warmth to it, but a certain amount of fear. "I... I can't let go." She said, indicating the sword. "In fact, I don't think I can even move or feel my hands. Is that bad?" She asked, but there was a certain edge of panic in her voice.
Allen said nothing, but reached out and gently unpried her fingers from the blade. It fell from her hands and she whimpered through clenched teeth as the knight unfolded her badly bleeding hands completely. "Heh. I felt that." She muttered, her lips drawn, her form shaking.
"We need to go." Allen's voice was soft, his brow drawn in concern for the girl, as he took her gently by the elbows and helped her up, her blood streaming down her arms and onto his already crimson stained gloves. As if on cue, the cry of men could be heard as they ducked below the low flying form of the metal dragon that swooped down over their heads. Escaflowne landed amidst the fighting, Van oblivious, as he piloted it, of the bodies the creature crushed and rammed, whether dead or alive, in the landing. Persephone saw his lips move as he cried out, but she could not hear a single syllable over the cries of the soldiers around them.
It was Allen that dragged her from her frozen position, pushing through the crowds, having very little conflict before reaching the metal machine. Allen's men were seated on the great creature, most of them, at least, and they greeted the both of them warmly. Some of them looked at Persephone in surprise, half out of the fact that they thought she had stayed behind, and half out at the sight of her badly marred hands. "Hold on tight!" Van yelled out as he commanded Escaflowne into the air.
The great metal creature's wings stirred and they lifted slowly from the ground. Persephone's head snapped to the side as she caught sight of the gleam of a piece of machinery and pale skin. The figure disappeared among the fighting almost instantly, but she cried out anyways. "Folken!" Her cry rang sharp through the battle roar and, even though the great Fanalian guymelef was rising steadily into the air, she could see him, emerge from the crowd. Still they rose, even as he ran forward, blood on his uniform. Five, ten feet from the ground... She reached for him, blood dripping down her fingers and onto his outstretched hand, she was so close to touching him.
She saw him mouth her name as he reached for her, but she could not hear his voice above Escaflowne's wings. She grasped air, leaning over, for one contact, one final touch... She felt herself begin to slip, but two firm arms grabbed her and pulled her to the side, the dragon's great, metal back obscuring her view of her lover below. She let out a small, despairful cry, so small that it couldn't be heard by others. And Escaflowne rose higher, faster now, until they were above the clouds, the battle site below invisible through the swirling wisps. She looked up at her restrainer, and met the angry gaze of Allen. His voice reached through her dizzied and dulled senses. "What did you think you were doing? You could have fallen, broken your neck-"
He was interupted as Escaflowne gave a hard jerk. The men fell and skidded to the right a little bit, one even falling off the side. Again, it was Allen who kept her from falling to her death as she grasped with hands that would not close for a hold. His hand came down, grabbed her by the collar, and pulled her back up to safety. "You shouldn't have come." He said, more out of a sudden concern than the previous anger.
"It's that bastard Dillandau!" One of the knight's men shouted. Persephone's senses heightened and she looked up. Sure enough, there floated the creature, a piece of torn metal on its side where it had purposefully come into contact with the Fanalian guymelef.
A growl of hatred and rage issued from Van's lips and there could be heard the insane cackling of laughter coming from the cockpit of the enemy. Dillandau surged forward, focusing on ramming Escaflowne again, hoping to throw the machine off balance. Persephone watched in wide eyed awe, torn, wanting her friends to live and win this airial combat, but desperately wishing for her brother, for that is what he was to her, to win as well so that his life might go on.
Van commanded his guymelef to the side sharply, Dillandau's own unit crashing into the creatures sharply metaled tail instead of its side. The tearing and twisting of metal could be heard as Escaflowne's tail dug deep into the other guymelef. For an agonizing moment, everything seemed to stand still, but then Dillandau's unit fell, unable to fly any longer. It was without thought that Persephone moved, flinging her weary body forward. "Persephone!" Allen's voice rang clear in her ears before she fell from the side.
There was this certain dread and human terror as she broke through the cloud barrier and the ground was displayed to her, far, but not too far, below. Yet, out of the pure, inhuman instinct which she carried, her wings sprang forth, disintegrating most of the material of her shirt in the back, making it hang loose around her shoulders. She dove down, angling her wings to make the descent faster, and, before long, the spinning and battered guymelef loomed before her.
She landed on the burnt metal and brought one of her flaming wings forward and through the hatch which opened to the pilot. Metal melted and with a simple, though clumsy, kick of her foot, the hatch was gone. She reached forward, almost blindly, and her hands met warm flesh. She brought his still conscious form out of the machine and lifted him up in her arms, her hands too torn to hold him with them. He looked up at her with wide, scared eyes. He could hear the crash of his guymelef as it hit the earth, but he could also hear the wind as it whistled past the two gliding forms.
Persephone landed softly on a part of the battle field that had been left long ago, blood and bodies piled around. The form cradled in her arms could hear her labored breathing, feel her trembling body. Dillandau felt the bond between him and the girl who held him, feel something... Love, admiration, perhaps? He was not sure. But there was also this poison, this insanity in his veins, and he felt that more prominent than the rest. He moved quickly yet gracefully, unnoticed by the exhausted girl which held him.
Persephone, for one short, rare moment in time, felt a certain level of peace. She could hear Dillandau breath calmly against her, feel him pressed warmly against her chest as she cradled him there, here eyes closed. And, if she listened close enough, she could hear his steady heartbeat. The slow rhythm calmed her, reminded her of cold nights in which she would go down in the night, lay her head to his chest, be lulled by its beat. She began to speak, her eyes still closed. "Dillandau, I-"
The words died in her throat and her eyes fluttered open, wide, unbelieving. The world came before her, slowly, and she stumbled to her knees, Dillandau falling from her arms. He rose quickly to his feet and met her eyes as she stared up at him, crystal tears falling down her questioning face. A grin split his lips and he began to laugh, uncontrollably, insanely, even as his own tears fell down his face as he sobbed for the deed he had done.
Persephone's blood pooled around her and the ringing of an inhuman scream echoed through her mind. A last tear was shed, and she fell. Gaea shuttered, it's life escaped it in a final breath, just as it did the form on that battle field.
*****************
Folken had seen her come down, her wings flaming in the darkness, and he had pushed through the diminishing battle, running, in need of just the sight of her. He had come across the clearing just as it happened. His mouth opened in a silent yell, too horrified as he found he was too late to save her from the events which now unfolded. Dillandau's arm moved as she held him, quickly and gracefully drawing the sword from it's scabbard at his side as she opened her mouth and spoke to him. The words died out, strangled, though, as the boy finished the final movement, embedding the sword to its hilt into his savior's abdomen. Their was a horrible moment of frozen time, Folken's own sword falling from his grasp, hitting the bloodied ground noiselessly, as he saw her fall to her knees, her love, her "home", as she once called him, standing, laughing, sobbing, all at once.
And then she fell from her kneeled position onto her side, the sword still impaling her, blood gushing from the wound. Folken found his legs suddenly and bolted forward. "Persephone!" Her name was a scream, drawn out, and as he kneeled by her motionless form, Dillandau still laughing in utter insanity behind him, he found it was too late. Her life had left her lips before she had even hit the ground.
Author's Note: *blinkblink* Wow. That happened faster than I thought it would. *blinkblinkblink*