Torment
Posted: Wed Nov 10, 2004 9:02 pm
In an empty tavern an elfess sits alone, slumped with her head face down on a table. Quinasa was aware of almost nothing, not the sound of trees being felled in the distance nor the cold table that was pressed firmly against her forhead. She was dimly aware of time; though if it was moving excruciatingly slow or passing swift as an arrow she could not discern, only that it was moving without her...
Outside a voice spoke friendly to her but the words were jibberish in her ears. Someone was there with her then. Someone she should know but for the pain could not. The voice was friendly and warm, but all she could concentrate on was the pain. The horriffic pain that twisted like barbed wire throughout her body and her soul. Then there was another voice, an unfamiliar voice. It jabbed on about something and seemed to anger the friendly voice. Quin wept silently and whispered, "he's gone". There was an arguement behind her for a time that she paid no heed. And what was this!? Was someone climbing on her? She did not care, nor did she respond in the slightest way. Her crumpled form remained still, the only evidence if life being in the slow rise and fall of her breathing. She felt suddenly suffocated, as if the depression threatening to swallow her wasn't enough. The argument continued but eventually died. She flitted in and out of consciousness, tears streaming unabated down her face. She felt herself being carried, felt a breeze on her wet face. Her eyes were open but she could not see. She felt hungry but sick, her limbs like lead. When the grass met her skin she stared unseeing at the sky.
After a few moments on the ground she choked on something, water maybe. She did not know. But before she knew it she was breathing shallowly if evenly again. The friendly voice was with her, talking to her, soothing her. She slipped into unconsciousness again and rolled onto her side. When she opened her eyes she stared across a river but could not see it. The same voice cooing her, calming her. She whimpered, ".. no goodbyes.. no goodbyes..." and the voice was there, still talking and comforting but not dulling the agony. So alone, so used, so foolish she felt. She had no goodbye, no moment to touch, no evidence that he even thought of her. She felt awful and could not handle the throbbing torment in her heart. As she fell asleep grasping uselessly to hang on to the voice beside her, a withered nightangels blossom fell from her weak fingers and she remembered nothing.
Outside a voice spoke friendly to her but the words were jibberish in her ears. Someone was there with her then. Someone she should know but for the pain could not. The voice was friendly and warm, but all she could concentrate on was the pain. The horriffic pain that twisted like barbed wire throughout her body and her soul. Then there was another voice, an unfamiliar voice. It jabbed on about something and seemed to anger the friendly voice. Quin wept silently and whispered, "he's gone". There was an arguement behind her for a time that she paid no heed. And what was this!? Was someone climbing on her? She did not care, nor did she respond in the slightest way. Her crumpled form remained still, the only evidence if life being in the slow rise and fall of her breathing. She felt suddenly suffocated, as if the depression threatening to swallow her wasn't enough. The argument continued but eventually died. She flitted in and out of consciousness, tears streaming unabated down her face. She felt herself being carried, felt a breeze on her wet face. Her eyes were open but she could not see. She felt hungry but sick, her limbs like lead. When the grass met her skin she stared unseeing at the sky.
After a few moments on the ground she choked on something, water maybe. She did not know. But before she knew it she was breathing shallowly if evenly again. The friendly voice was with her, talking to her, soothing her. She slipped into unconsciousness again and rolled onto her side. When she opened her eyes she stared across a river but could not see it. The same voice cooing her, calming her. She whimpered, ".. no goodbyes.. no goodbyes..." and the voice was there, still talking and comforting but not dulling the agony. So alone, so used, so foolish she felt. She had no goodbye, no moment to touch, no evidence that he even thought of her. She felt awful and could not handle the throbbing torment in her heart. As she fell asleep grasping uselessly to hang on to the voice beside her, a withered nightangels blossom fell from her weak fingers and she remembered nothing.