M. Fragile

Lucia Cabriel · 07-18-2011, 09:47 PM

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Hope this is alright for you. <3

Night had begun to fall. The sky was slowly draining of colour, the air pale and bloodless, as the withering circle of the sun began to sink behind the trees. Somewhere in the distance a lonely eaglet cried out for its mother. It was the only sound. The stillness that had overcome the woods was now as deep as the blackness beginning to devour it piece by piece.

But there was life in the wood, a single pair of emerald eyes glittered furiously in the shadows. There was a cruel loneliness in those strange malachite orbs, and as night came ever closer, they became even more aware of the shadowing world around them. They belonged to a raven-furred female. She seemed disturbed, talking to herself whilst restlessly squatting at the base of a large oak. She had started building a small fire but had not yet lit it, having turned to her vices to perhaps cure that shimmering desolation in her eyes.

A couple of empty bottles lay by her feet, the bittersweet odour of whiskey floating silently through the still air. It was apparent that even though she had awareness of her surroundings she wasn’t particularly all there mentally. She giggled to herself, muttered words under her breath, stared longingly at the blade of a dagger clasped tightly in her palm. There were tiny droplets of blood dribbling onto the ground, soaking into the earth; it would seem she had cut her hand. Whether it was accidental or not, well that was another story.

Sighing heavily, the ebony lady pulled out a lighter from a small leather pouch that was placed neatly by her side. This contrasted greatly with her currently messy hair, strands covering her face and curling at the ends. It didn’t cover the scar, however. The long vertical scar that covered her left eye and wrinkled every time her face switched expression. Right now she seemed to wear a strangely amused smile, as though contemplating something dangerous, or maybe just something very stupid.

After a few attempts, she managed to get her lighter to burst into life. It gave off a soft glow, lighting up her face and chest, making shadows dance and her face appear almost angelic to the touch. Putting it to the myriad of objects she had found to burn, they slowly began to hiss, smoke wafting up her nostrils, and tiny flecks of ash floating into the night. It wasn’t long until it grew, now a hypnotising torch in the oncoming midnight.

Grinning to herself, filled with some kind of twisted pride, the obsidian female was now illuminated by the small fire in front of her. The fire seemed to make silent poetry as it flickered and crackled now and then. It revealed her in all her beauty, but it showed her flaws as well. Not only did it bring out the scar on her face, it brought out the strange scarred symbol on her shoulder as well. A gift from a male she had bumped into many, many months ago who had not taken her relationship with Snake well. He had left it there to remind her that Snake would never really be hers, and unfortunately, he had been right.

Snake had left without a word, disappeared without a trace. When Lucia had discovered this, she had gone mad with heartache. The confusion had eaten away at her soul, tore out her heart and discarded it into some black abyss never to be seen again. It was this that had led to the ebony woman leaving Nova Scotia; this which had led to her vanishing into the night much like her prince charming had done weeks before. It wasn’t until she had come across a travelling gypsy who had given her news of the changes in Nova Scotia that she had returned, curious and withdrawn. She had nothing, nobody, but at least here she knew her way around.

Lucia had built herself a little haven in the woods now, sleeping under the trees and eating whatever she could find. Occasionally she managed to catch the odd small rodent, but with her heart so heavy, she found little motivation to hunt for anything bigger. It was often just a diet of berries and mushrooms, and that seemed to suit the ebony female fine.

Lost in thought, Lucia found in difficult to get the image of the coyote traitor out of her mind. His face flashed repeatedly in front of her eyes, his soft olive coals burned into her skull and the memory of his touch set her skull on fire. This had been happening for some time now. It prevented her sleeping, and when she did it gave her nightmares. Though it didn’t seem to matter now, he haunted her in daylight, he haunted her at night. She couldn’t escape. Only alcohol and drugs seemed to do the trick, so it was not surprising that the sable-furred woman was on a mission to get back into the realms of drunken stupor and narcotized haze. She had managed two bottles so far and was contemplating a third, but it seemed that something else had come into her mind, as her attention seemed to slip over the dagger again, the blade glistening in the firelight.

Lifting it from her lap, her hand seemingly fused to the handle, an eerie cackle seemed to escape her lips. Something seemed to sliver across her face, a dark cloud of psychosis. She was some kind of epitome, a sea of intranquillity, lost in her pain, a slave to her memory. Laughing in her madness, it echoed into the night sky. A bird that had been nesting in the tree branch above her flew off, frightened by the commotion, leaving a few scattering feathers to float to the ground.

She brought the dagger to her ankle, her eyes lined with tears of sadness, though her demeanour clearly not feeling quite the same way. Pulling it across her flesh, blood began to dribble downward, not an inch of pain on the twisted female’s face. She cut and carved. Eventually there would be a snake wrapped around her ankle, eventually he would be permanent. He could never leave her again.

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