Diary
See disclaimer in Entry #1
:Black Wings:
I saw two sets of black wings before me tonight.
The last of the Arcs, a girl named Serene, is traveling with us now--one of those pairs of wings belongs to her. They're short for wings, and you wouldn't think that they'd be able to support the weight of a person, but they do somehow. They're webbed wings like a bat's, with leathery black skin stretched over the delicate fingerlike bones that form the wings' frames.
Serene herself is young--around my age, maybe a little younger--but there's determination and now outright anger in her thin face. Her wild, blue-violet hair is chopped short, almost boyishly so, and her ears taper to thin points. Although her shoulders are small, there's strength in them as she grips the twisted pole of her scythe, and the palms of her hands are thick with calluses that tell me her firm hold on the huge weapon isn't just for show. I know how to handle a scythe, barely, but this girl seems to have been trained to it from a very young age.
And there's a distinctive, almost frightening, hunger for justice in her haunted glare.
Serene's entire family--her entire race--was wiped out by a soul-stealing demon.
Maybe that's the reason for the distinct frailty that seems to settle over her, as though her desire for vengeance is all that's holding her together.
The other wings belonged to that demon...
They were broad, huge, the size that phyisology demands would be needed to carry a person through the air. Instead of bat's wings, they looked more like a bird's, or an angel's, though what angel has black wings? They were covered in long, almost iridescent black feathers, and they didn't seem as though they'd belong to a demon woman, much less the murderous one they were attached to.
She had long, pale blonde hair, wild but cut evenly, with one long hank falling into her face and obscuring one of her black, spiteful eyes. I suppose she'd be beautiful in a cold way, with her milk-white skin and the taunting, condescending smirk she casually tossed my way. I was close enough to see that her white dress and blue cloak were very finely made, if tattered by wear. And she must be even stronger than Serene, judging from the way she swings her enormous axe around as though it weighs nothing. But she didn't even seem to realize how many people she'd killed--if she did, it had no effect on her at all...
Such a cruel and cold-hearted killer...
So why... why do I feel as though I know her from somewhere...?
And why did she call my Einherjar a "Diviner"...?
Somehow... those malicious black wings seem so familiar...
Who am I? Why do I seem to be connected to this demon?
Am I... really even a Sprite...?
Caught between two sets of black wings... the flight of justice and the dark feathers of chaos...
Which pair of wings belongs to me...?