She ignores my screams, my allegations of her impurity and deviousness. As lightning flashes I'm fairly certain I can see a wicked smile, curving upwards far too high into her jawline. She isn't mortal, I'm convinced of that now. She is an incarnation of the bird-lady here to mock me. Her snowflake represents the bravery that I know I will never have, and as it dances out of sight - a pale beacon in this haze of mud and water - I know I have lost.
In my anguish and my despair, I lose sight of everything - both metaphorically and literally. My mind descends into the madness that I have created, the illusory world of revenge and distorted realities breaks and I am left holding the pieces of my shattered mind. My eyes try to see where white-smear has gone, but I am left blinded by the afterimage of her snowflake. I see its pattern superimposed over everything, as my panicked gaze shoots around. Lightning flashes and the world is overexposed.
I am Rhoa, and I am confused.
How have I gotten here? Why does my body ache? The cold reality of what I have done descends upon me like a wet blanket, but my mind in a youthful lunge towards self preservation blocks it out. I know that white-smear has been attacked, but it wasn't by me. There was someone else here, wasn't there? Some dark madman wearing a suit of a charcoal and dying embers. I turned to look for him, to throw myself at his mercy so that white-smear can escape, when I am shoved violently to the right. Pain races through my neck as my shoulder suddenly feels invisible. It has moved too far too fast, and my mind can't seem to place it in relation to my body. Muscles and ligaments twinge in unison as my long legs strive to find purchase in this quagmire. I step to the right, forced there by white-smear's shove and I can feel her teeth still on my neck. As my body continues to fall to the right, I can simultaneously feel my legs giving out from beneath me, as well as the oddly clear sensation of her teeth in my fur. For a beautiful instant I think that she is holding me up - that it was the dark fiend who pushed me, and it is white-smear who is rescuing me. I want to laugh as the moment stretches on, at the absurdity. I was going to save her, but here she is saving me.
The moment breaks.
My legs scramble now completely on their own, which is a blessing, for my mind has seemingly lost all control of my body. My heart is racing, my breathing is ragged, and I am completely disoriented. I feel my right shoulder slam into the ground - and somewhere beneath me my right wing screams in pain. I fancy that I can still feel her teeth on my neck, but I know that this is impossible as I gaze up at her.
Silhouetted against the the storm, I realize that I was wrong. Her body is now half black and half white. The darkness is eating her, devouring her, pulling her into the shadows and the secret hiding places of these woods. She was the burning man all along, revealing pristine flesh only to taunt me, showing me the snowflake and then snatching it away. I try to scramble backwards, but in all this mud the only way to rise is to roll forward on my legs - forward towards her. My mind balks, and I am suddenly very aware of the trees that surround me.
There is no where to run. There is no where to hide.
The world feels cold, but my injuries feel hot. My right wing has never stopped its serenade of pain, but only now do I realize that I won't be able to fly home. That won't matter, an oddly rational voice in the back of my mind comments. It isn't like you'll be leaving here alive. As the voice concludes, I'm sure white-smears eyes have turned red. She is burning now, mocking the pathetic embers that glow on my own wings. Somewhere I know it is only a pain-induced hallucination, but the fear is just as real.
Pleadingly I beg myself to allow the blood-lust that brought me here to bleed out of my system, but I know that it won't. Even in the face of this illusory death, I know that it will persist on in me. I have been betrayed by my family, damned by the bird-lady, and poisoned by my own mind.
I am Rhoa, may the Gods have mercy upon my soul.
WC: 787
Closing
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[JUDGED] Let It Wash Away My Sanity [Rhoa Spar]
