The sky cried out in colors. Red and yellow streamed across the horizon, and pink made its presence known in spots.
Light blues, ever understated, whined their diminishing presence, as deep indigo overshadowed all.
High above, where the brilliance of the sun met the cool elegance of night, tiny stars twinkled their mischievousness. Pyrrha
imagined the stars as tiny fairies, conspiring in their little cliques against the other constellations.
Pyrrha had never really looked at the sky before. It was beautiful.
It was a shame, that the first time she could appreciate the view, she was about to die.
The wind whipped around her ears, as if angry that she was invading its space.
Sorry, she thought, I didn't want it to be like this either.
She focused on the figure at the top of the tower whence she fell. She imagined his horrified face. The fact that she would
be remembered, be grieved over, made her feel a little glad. Though she quickly quashed the thought. That was a horrible thing to think.
She hadn't wanted it to be like this. But a small voice in her head scoffed.
Any time now, she would hit the ground, a sharp pain in her back, she imagined, as her aura was overwhelmed by kinetic force,
and then nothing.
She really hadn't wanted it to end like this. But she had expected it. Really, she should have known.
From the moment she had stepped into Ozpin's office and seen that comatose woman preserved in a tube, she had known it would be something dangerous.
Something she didn't know if she could do. But also something others expected of her.
It came with the territory. Pyrrha, the Invincible Girl, could handle anything. Nothing was too hard for her.
She had said yes. Of course she had said yes. She always said yes.
She was obviously the best choice. The strongest, with the most battle experience.
Under those eyes of expectation, she'd quashed the feelings of discontent, of frustration. (Why her?) Of fear. She'd soldiered on. She'd taken the maiden power.
And now she was here, arrow through her chest, falling off the tower of Beacon.
An inexplicable frustration welled up in her chest. Why?
Why was she dying here? For what purpose?
To save Beacon? Pyrrha saw the ruins and smoky remains of the once prestigious school.
To prevent Cinder from obtaining the maiden power? Pyrrha felt the residual maiden power leaking out of the massive hole in her soul.
Then why? For what purpose did she endure a childhood of forced celebrity?
Why? For what purpose did she flee to Beacon, feel out of place among friends and never really herself, (because she'd never really found herself in the first place)
and right when she thought she was comfortable being normal, she'd once again been forced to take up the mantle.
Why?
Why? Why? WHY!
Pyrrha screamed. A primal, guttural scream that was stifled by the blood in her throat and subsequently ripped away by the wind.
So even that, she couldn't even have, she thought at the wind bitterly.
The ground was swiftly arriving, Pyrrha knew. The tower was only so tall, seven floors, she remembered correctly from the orientation.
Pyrrha could now see the third floor.
So little time left to think.
Wasted seconds!
If in one word, she could describe her life...Stifled! Nevermind her parents, her whole life she'd been stifled by herself.
Nothing had ever stopped her from doing anything she wanted. Did it make sense that she couldn't act like how she wanted
because her parents and manager had forced her to act a persona? Screw that to all hell! If only she had been more mature, if she
actually had a personality and self-identity instead of the weak-ass doll that she was, she could have made the public like
her regardless of persona.
And if she had just been stronger... Her mind's eye saw Cinder. How ironic, that they both had been named after fire.
But whereas Pyrrha was like a fire in a fireplace, always controlled by others, Cinder was free and powerful! Like a wildfire
going and burning whatever she chose!
Pain. Something sharp cracked her aura. Something broke deep within. Pyrrha knew it was the end. Her thoughts were still chaotic,
sparked by fear and pain, but with one last breath, she thought:
if she only had another chance, it wouldn't be the same. If only...