Post by Mad-Manx on Sept 26, 2019 17:42:31 GMT -6
Eshana
vagabond | vindicator
"Strong but exhausted."
Post: #1 | Word Count: 699
Uneven, shuffling hoof falls rang out as a lone figure appeared in the grand archway. Dust billowed in her wake as she moved in a slow, agonized manner; a stark reminder of the disuse the Ancient Temple had come to in recent history.
Eshana’s hind leg, only newly fixed by Rosie’s tireless efforts, very nearly dragged behind her as she unceremoniously heaved herself up the worn steps of the temple. New scars crossed her body, marring her dulled and matted coat, and in such a state it would be a miracle if even her own family could have recognized her. Fear that threatened to edge into hysteria had plagued her for days, leaving her with a throbbing numbness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Exhaustion consumed her body wholly, and aches that had become permanent since she had left the Buunker had only doubled in strength. Common sense told her she never should have left so quickly, should have waited, should have healed; and yet the blinding, unforgiving force of panic drove her onwards.
The desperate pleas of her comrades still echoed in her ears; but she had needed to come here, needed to speak to Them.
Her knees struck the ground, hard, and not entirely by her own will. Eshana’s felt her forehead fall to the ground as she pressed against the cold stone, heaving as she desperately avoided choking on the thick dust that rose at her disturbance. Her lungs rattled with each hacking breath, the noises ricocheting around the deserted hall with ominous echoes. The darkness was all consuming in it's path, with only the wane moonlight illuminating the few, cracked steps before her.
She was utterly alone, the emptiness threatening to engulf her and spiral her already teetering mind.
“I’ve made mistakes,” Eshana murmured hoarsely, her voice dropping to a pained whisper. “I made a promise to use my second chance at freedom to aid others, to make this world better. I think… I think I’ve failed.”
Eshana’s eyes squeezed shut as a wave of emotion overtook her, and she remembered, all too clearly, the last time she had pleaded for help from her patron. It had been deep in the recesses of the Dark District, in a building not unlike this, when she had first fallen to her knees before a gouged and broken alter.
Had it only been two years ago? It seemed far, far longer than that.
“I don’t know if I’ve made any right decisions in my life,” Eshana whispered to the void, her eyes opening to fix dully on a mote of dust drifting idly in the wake of her breath.
The words echoed against the hallowed hall as they left her tongue, striking her ears twice with the vulnerability they contained. She winced as their truth raked over her, pausing to gather a steadying breath.
“Everything I’ve done seems to have caused pain to those I love. I’ve hurt my parents, my sisters, my brother, my comrades… Even those I’ve promised to protect.”
The wide eyes of a terrified labour slave flashed within her mind’s eye, her pleading, pained gaze and broken leg crystallizing into a sharp image; one of many that still haunted her dreams. She was joined by lifeless bodies of those that did not join the Vindicators, that were freed but unable to survive alone, and had lost their lives; free, yes, but lost and alone.
“I’ve let others suffer.”
A fresh cut of anguish struck her heart at the admission, the piercing cry of an unseen youth penetrating her subconscious. Hot tears leaked from the corner of her eyes as Eshana pressed her broken horn to the ground in an almost painful manner.
“And now Zahra… My daughter…” Her voice broke again, forcing her to pause as a fresh wave of sobs wracked her chest. “It’s my fault they took her. I was meant to protect her. I could have… I.. I should have... “
The strength in her trembling legs finally broke. With a heavy thud, Eshana collapsed against the rough, grimy surface of the Ancient Temple, tears flowing freely as she cried out to the darkness, an eerie echo chasing after her incoherent sobs.
Eshana’s hind leg, only newly fixed by Rosie’s tireless efforts, very nearly dragged behind her as she unceremoniously heaved herself up the worn steps of the temple. New scars crossed her body, marring her dulled and matted coat, and in such a state it would be a miracle if even her own family could have recognized her. Fear that threatened to edge into hysteria had plagued her for days, leaving her with a throbbing numbness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Exhaustion consumed her body wholly, and aches that had become permanent since she had left the Buunker had only doubled in strength. Common sense told her she never should have left so quickly, should have waited, should have healed; and yet the blinding, unforgiving force of panic drove her onwards.
The desperate pleas of her comrades still echoed in her ears; but she had needed to come here, needed to speak to Them.
Her knees struck the ground, hard, and not entirely by her own will. Eshana’s felt her forehead fall to the ground as she pressed against the cold stone, heaving as she desperately avoided choking on the thick dust that rose at her disturbance. Her lungs rattled with each hacking breath, the noises ricocheting around the deserted hall with ominous echoes. The darkness was all consuming in it's path, with only the wane moonlight illuminating the few, cracked steps before her.
She was utterly alone, the emptiness threatening to engulf her and spiral her already teetering mind.
“I’ve made mistakes,” Eshana murmured hoarsely, her voice dropping to a pained whisper. “I made a promise to use my second chance at freedom to aid others, to make this world better. I think… I think I’ve failed.”
Eshana’s eyes squeezed shut as a wave of emotion overtook her, and she remembered, all too clearly, the last time she had pleaded for help from her patron. It had been deep in the recesses of the Dark District, in a building not unlike this, when she had first fallen to her knees before a gouged and broken alter.
Had it only been two years ago? It seemed far, far longer than that.
“I don’t know if I’ve made any right decisions in my life,” Eshana whispered to the void, her eyes opening to fix dully on a mote of dust drifting idly in the wake of her breath.
The words echoed against the hallowed hall as they left her tongue, striking her ears twice with the vulnerability they contained. She winced as their truth raked over her, pausing to gather a steadying breath.
“Everything I’ve done seems to have caused pain to those I love. I’ve hurt my parents, my sisters, my brother, my comrades… Even those I’ve promised to protect.”
The wide eyes of a terrified labour slave flashed within her mind’s eye, her pleading, pained gaze and broken leg crystallizing into a sharp image; one of many that still haunted her dreams. She was joined by lifeless bodies of those that did not join the Vindicators, that were freed but unable to survive alone, and had lost their lives; free, yes, but lost and alone.
“I’ve let others suffer.”
A fresh cut of anguish struck her heart at the admission, the piercing cry of an unseen youth penetrating her subconscious. Hot tears leaked from the corner of her eyes as Eshana pressed her broken horn to the ground in an almost painful manner.
“And now Zahra… My daughter…” Her voice broke again, forcing her to pause as a fresh wave of sobs wracked her chest. “It’s my fault they took her. I was meant to protect her. I could have… I.. I should have... “
The strength in her trembling legs finally broke. With a heavy thud, Eshana collapsed against the rough, grimy surface of the Ancient Temple, tears flowing freely as she cried out to the darkness, an eerie echo chasing after her incoherent sobs.
Format by songsofinfinity || Art by GrumpyHyena
