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Canon Weightless II

Smurf

Lord of Altera
Mystic
Hiraetha
Hiraetha
Mystic


A sequel to {x}, which I wrote a little over a year ago.

{ x }

Some say that when falling a great distance, you drift into sleep before you hit the ground.

This theory was proved fantastically wrong yet again by Olive, who watched the sky drift farther and farther away until she smashed against the floors below the railings looming among the high towers of The Compendium.



Falling.

What a familiar sensation.


If the shove from the bird-person wasn't enough, gravity certainly was. And the gravity of the situation was even more tremendous.

"Don't fall, Olive." Light's words echoed in her head as she rushed towards the ground at an alarming speed. It hadn't taken much for her to be thrown over the low railing surrounding Athryl's humble garden. She had already been hit twice by the beast's wings when the final blow was dealt, sending her spinning in mid-air, soaring:

The ground came up too fast. She saw the sky, bits of greenery, and heard Vorar's steely and rumbling voice echo words of peace in the direction of the rabid Makani.

It was far too late for peace in Olive's mind. And oddly enough, she didn't scream. She just fell.

Not again. Not again, not again.

Her body hit the wooden deck with a sickening thud, bones and organs completely disagreeing on which way to flow. Whatever air was left in her was lost to the wind amid particles of deep red blood that were spurred into the air, dancing in idle beauty for an instant.

Darkness. Not the soothing darkness that you find when you sleep, however. The sort that completely envelops you and chokes every last breath from your lungs.
The sort of darkness that leaves you completely numb and yet utterly exposed. Every nerve ending sparks, sending jolts of.... Something. Some feeling. Something that is pain, but it is not pain. Something to hold on to.

The pain is nearly deafening. Even as she lay there, her body ached from head to toe. Not entirely a physical ache, either.
An ache displaying utter agony, deep to her core.
So deep that she was not sure if she had become the pain. If it had finally welcomed her into its cold arms and taken her to drift, somewhere, in the darkness.

Vaguely, she felt something prodding her side. Her limp body was flipped, faint sparks of light dancing around her bleary vision. Something- someone- a presence drifted over her back, weaving together the broken skin.

Another familiar feeling.

Healing. But with it came agony. Rough fingers tugged at her flesh, beckoning her to the darkness.

Everything. All of the pain and joy that she had been though; was it all for this? To die young, healthy, and on a deck after a stranger decided that it was best to make her suffer?

Perhaps it was.



Abandonment.

What a familiar sensation.

The feeling of being lost- and not being found. Being left somewhere, forgotten and forgotten again.
Wasn't a theme with her life? Abandoned at four. Abandoned again. Found, perhaps? No. Abandoned again. And finally- left to wither away.

Her breaths came in short, shallow intervals. Intercallary fits of gurgling as blood built up in her lungs. Olive was conscious. She was utterly aware of the situation.

And the fact that she was left alone. Whether purposeful or not, whether people knew that she was laying on a bench for hours: well.... Who knows. She didn't grow numb to the pain. She was completely aware of it in every second that she lay there.

Someone stroked her head, reminded her that they cared. But Olive knew the facts- the facts that she had always trusted, relied on even. She was alone, and would be until she took her last breath.



Paralysis.

What a familiar sensation.

Michcat Charybdis IceandFire Solus K9 Estes241

 
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