head full of raspberries yes and eyes darting wildly the world slow dark moody as the cliff approached and enveloped her, her crying wrists, forehead, and stomach screaming for help in the ∞ mist. but the unknown pushed forward ever-conceited and full of malice until the foot slipped and the ground became the sky for ever and a day into the darkness of pride and prejudice for those unaccustomed to the taste of fruit, spit out the seeds they are no more useful as the ground swallowed the young heroine to be laughing all the while while she wept for a wasted existence until the ground came again and gently kissed her forehead
She gasped and jumped upright from her sleeping position in fright from the nightmare she had just endured. Recently, she had had a reoccurring dream every night of the week. Despite the frequency of her nightmares, Viola still couldn't explain the significance that she felt toward the dream itself. The dream always slipped away like dandelion seeds floating away in a current of air. However, despite the fleeting imagery, she could still distinguish the obscure scars on her forehead, wrist and stomach, all of which she felt no pain. This did not sway her as much as the precipice which she fell from, an inexplicable symbol of which Viola did not understand. Afterwards, she could not remember anything else, but what remained both baffled and frightened her like no other incident or being of her world ever could, as far as she knew. She needed answers and fast. Viola felt that she was on the verge of madness without the reasons.
She then stood up beneath the glorious oak tree that had shaded her from the rich, mystical moon light and walked out into its blanket. Ever since Viola was a child, or as far as she could remember at least, she had lived on her own with no recollection of her parents or any kind of guardian for that matter. Thus, Viola learned the ways of her world, which she didn't even know the name of, through her own experiences. She taught herself how to cook certain meats that could be encountered in the wilderness and to sew the cloths that she wore. Now, still youthful, Viola was 18 and ready to further educate herself in a local town. There was one major dilemma Viola had to face--living in the wilderness for long periods of time can diminish the will to speak and socialize. She was subject to lapses in both. She also had trouble keeping her directions straight, because she had always picked a random direction to walk in before.
Viola wore herself out thinking about her difficulties and drifted back to sleep until the morning came.
A rustle in the grass just a few meters away from her, Viola slowly rose from her slumber and searched the field ahead of her. As her eyes came into focus, she realized how late in the morning it was and hurriedly packed her bedroll and started up the field in front of her. Oddly enough, she forgot to do her usual spin to find the direction and instead followed the wind, a sign that today she was confident. Today she would find a village worth all the effort she put into finding and they would have everything she needed.
About an hour later, she found the village she had long awaited. Considering the fact that she had been in the vicinity before, she questioned herself as to why she hadn't noticed it long beforehand. Unfortunately, it had a surprising aura about it. Desolate and gloomy, the village seemed far darker than anything around her. Why, even the land seemed shadowed before her! She could have sworn that the fields before her eyes and the trees she brushed against were lively a moment ago, even through the cold breeze! Surely Viola was dreaming, or at the very least fatigued. Even though she was sure that she was hallucinating, Viola approached the village with caution.
"What on earth is the matter?" asked Viola to herself as she slowly crept up behind the first house to peer around. The village seemed abandoned, devoid of living beings for quite some time, and upon confirmation Viola slowly and wearily came around the house to the center of the village. She suddenly felt dizzy and imbalanced, beginning to cough violently. She clutched her chest in agony as she dropped to her knees, and in between coughs she realized the town was engulfed in a thick miasma, strengthening towards the center of the town.
It was at this time a door creaked open from on of the nearby houses and an old, emaciated man peeked through the slit, eyeing the young girl in astonishment. There were very few children left in the village, for they had all died from illnesses that the doctor was powerless against. To see a young girl in full health was quite a surprise and definitely a Godsend for the people of Iselia.
"Goddess be praised," wheezed the old man to the few adults lying in the back of the house, "our misfortune may not last for long. Another has come."
Upon hearing this glorious news, the people scurried as quickly as the sick are able and busted through the door, catching Viola by surprise, and seized her up on their shoulders. Viola was taken aback at the entire spectacle and dropped her knapsack in the commotion while struggling to free herself from the unusually strong grips of the townsfolk. Even in their illness, the people found the strength to apprehend the poor girl and haul her through the town, where numerous other elderly folk peered through the windows and doors of their homes to watch.
Viola was being taken up to an unusual building on top of what seemed to be a cliff overlooking the village. Rushing into the antiquated building, the townspeople set her down roughly on the cold stone floor, and as Viola raised her eyes up she could see a thin, tall figure standing before her clothed in white robes. Viola at once knew what he was: a priest of some sort. But for whom? Viola was unaware of any gods or goddesses in her world and simply assumed there were none, but being away from civilization for an immense amount of time can eat away at your understanding of the world, so this puzzlement was to be expected.
"Why, it seems as though our hopes are not altogether wasted," spoke the priest as he lent a hand to Viola and raising her to her feet. "We've been praying for a savior to redeem us from this wretched world, and as I now see Martel has answered our prayers. What I am about to tell you and what we desire you to do will be vital for the survival of our world and should not be taken lightly. The goddess has ordained--"
The priest was cut off by the desperate sobs of Viola, who hid her face in her hands and knelt over in a pained position after being fed the information from the clergyman. The priest, puzzled by this change in demeanor, lowered himself to her level and tried to console her, for he believed she was frightened by the task he was about to present. However, this was not the case.
"Why are you crying my child? Martel has granted you a gracious gif--," the priest attempted to coo.
"I don't care!" she managed to yelp between sobs while scurrying into the corner of the room. "A-All I wanted was a place to live, friends, and a good life. Now it's all slipping away and none of you c-c-care! S-selfishness, bitter s-selfishness…"
The people were indeed being selfish in this light, caring more for themselves than for the young woman they were about to use. They had previously sent off a young maiden for the very same perilous task, and as far as she knew the townspeople were still cheering her on, though in all honesty they only cared for their well-being and not her safety.
"But we do care for you! Martel is here to off her warm embrace for those in need," whispered the priest as he approached and hugged her in a loving way, trying to physically give the gift of Martel through himself to her. "We'll let you live and work here, even give you a lovely house if you but only help us in our time of need. It is not only our duty but also yours, as the world is all ours, and as you can see none of us are fit enough to leave the village. We will aid..." continued on the priest, but it mattered not, for Viola had passed out from a mixture of exhaustion, fear, and the thick miasma around the area, her head falling limply in the priests embrace. Once he noticed she was no longer conscious, he quickly stopped and motioned for the townspeople, who promptly gathered her up and fastened her to a bed in the corner of the building. She would serve her purpose.
"Selfish we may be," the priest addressed to the people, "our intentions for the good of the world are genuine, and this girl shall be the vessel through which Martel will correct the previous one's mistake and bring the power back to our world."
Night fell upon the village, and the only sound heard around the village was the wheezing of poor Viola, unaware of what was to happen to her...