Fallenwhisper
Pessimist
Mason released Deus as she fell to the ground with a thud. As she was enveloped in the cloth she did not flinch to the shock before laying across the floor once again. The world remained dark, body cold as the air around her. She wanted to breath, but her body felt heavy and strange. She had grown up with the weight of half a soul, and now the darkness drew her down, almost sinking into the darkness.
She could see her soul clashing with conflict. If she took her true breath, she would submit to the new part of her, allow it to become part of her.
Knowing that she wanted to fade out, her skin lined with dark veins and blood from the penetrating marks. But Takao. If she died she would never forgive herself. So in a wretched pain, she gasped for air, eyes falling open. One iris a silvery white, the other a horrid and matted black with swathes of gold and red.
Never in her life had she felt such a terrible ache through her very being, a calling almost. She looked towards Deus, her white eyes teary from the smudged memeories of nearly dying, the other drawn like a moth to light. Never had she had to controll something like this.
The darkness rushed over her very being, the pure light corrupt and diluted. Her silver eyes soon darkened by the same veins that now dotted her skin.
Deus. Her hate halted, unable to connect with the fiend. Instead she stared at Takao, the small flicker of light screaming out as her hand brought the blade in her hand out, and aimed it for Takao's chest.
She could see her soul clashing with conflict. If she took her true breath, she would submit to the new part of her, allow it to become part of her.
Knowing that she wanted to fade out, her skin lined with dark veins and blood from the penetrating marks. But Takao. If she died she would never forgive herself. So in a wretched pain, she gasped for air, eyes falling open. One iris a silvery white, the other a horrid and matted black with swathes of gold and red.
Never in her life had she felt such a terrible ache through her very being, a calling almost. She looked towards Deus, her white eyes teary from the smudged memeories of nearly dying, the other drawn like a moth to light. Never had she had to controll something like this.
The darkness rushed over her very being, the pure light corrupt and diluted. Her silver eyes soon darkened by the same veins that now dotted her skin.
Deus. Her hate halted, unable to connect with the fiend. Instead she stared at Takao, the small flicker of light screaming out as her hand brought the blade in her hand out, and aimed it for Takao's chest.