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Moon
- Joined
- Sep 26, 2011
Rosalba had turned to face the other direction, and then she felt something cold and razor sharp pierce her in the back. The pain in her body met the dismay that shook and disarmed her consciously as her knees caved in and gravity toke a hold of her. Her reaction would have been to turn around, defend herself, and disarm the one that was very clearly now her opponent, but the wound made her torso stiff, limbs limp, and mobility impossible as the pain seemingly kept pulling her closer to the grounds rough surface.
It was the sounds of laughter that irked her pride and motivated her to (painfully) roll back on her other side face pitifully face her opponent. She watched as her new enemy's silhouette- the one who she had just moments before seen as a valuable ally and friend- stepped back once, seemingly to pause and watch her shudder in pain, then saunter away from her and out the room, leaving her the sole presence left.
-----
An hour or so passed. Maybe it was two hours- as what had previously been twilight turned to the dark night. It felt more like broken minutes for Rosalba, however. She wanted to writhe in the discomfort, but the dull, aching wound throbbed and kept her still- her torso now heavy with the bleeding in her insides, and her limbs very clearly weak and drained. All of her energy had been drained away, and it then sat in the pool of blood beneath her- soaking her clothes and hair, caking on her skin.
She could no longer see clearly, the corners of her vision had darkened and any source of miniscule light that the dying out candles were distorted.
A voice came very clearly from somewhere. It almost seemed to be from above, but really it had been to her right. It took effort, but Rosalba turned her head and peeked through her eye lashes. All she could see were hues of dark greys and blues, with a shining light of pale yellow and orange. The voice came again, this time closer to her. Then another voice came, slightly more to the left, but very clearly still above her. The voices were not directed at her, and she could not make them out. A hand lay itself upon her forehead and pushed her hair out of the way, and she felt herself pushing her head into the warm palm, relishing at how warm it was.
"Can you tell me who are?"
The words were now clear, and the hand didn't seem to move. Rosalba's eye flickered open, and she found that she saw still saw nothing but blurry colors. She closed her eyes to focus on her speech.
"R- Ro- URK-KAUGH!" She felt something thick and warm bubble up from the back of her throat, with the feeling of a painful chill washing through her as she bled out from her back, and crimson dribbled from her lips. Blood. Rosalba squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered.
More voices wavered in the air and the hand moved away. Rosalba tried to move away, but then something warm and soft wrapped itself around her. Arms took her and gingerly lifted her up. Then the feeling of the other person lifting her up faded away, and as Rosalba fell out of consciousness, the feeling of warm tightness did not follow her into the void.
It was the sounds of laughter that irked her pride and motivated her to (painfully) roll back on her other side face pitifully face her opponent. She watched as her new enemy's silhouette- the one who she had just moments before seen as a valuable ally and friend- stepped back once, seemingly to pause and watch her shudder in pain, then saunter away from her and out the room, leaving her the sole presence left.
-----
An hour or so passed. Maybe it was two hours- as what had previously been twilight turned to the dark night. It felt more like broken minutes for Rosalba, however. She wanted to writhe in the discomfort, but the dull, aching wound throbbed and kept her still- her torso now heavy with the bleeding in her insides, and her limbs very clearly weak and drained. All of her energy had been drained away, and it then sat in the pool of blood beneath her- soaking her clothes and hair, caking on her skin.
She could no longer see clearly, the corners of her vision had darkened and any source of miniscule light that the dying out candles were distorted.
A voice came very clearly from somewhere. It almost seemed to be from above, but really it had been to her right. It took effort, but Rosalba turned her head and peeked through her eye lashes. All she could see were hues of dark greys and blues, with a shining light of pale yellow and orange. The voice came again, this time closer to her. Then another voice came, slightly more to the left, but very clearly still above her. The voices were not directed at her, and she could not make them out. A hand lay itself upon her forehead and pushed her hair out of the way, and she felt herself pushing her head into the warm palm, relishing at how warm it was.
"Can you tell me who are?"
The words were now clear, and the hand didn't seem to move. Rosalba's eye flickered open, and she found that she saw still saw nothing but blurry colors. She closed her eyes to focus on her speech.
"R- Ro- URK-KAUGH!" She felt something thick and warm bubble up from the back of her throat, with the feeling of a painful chill washing through her as she bled out from her back, and crimson dribbled from her lips. Blood. Rosalba squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered.
More voices wavered in the air and the hand moved away. Rosalba tried to move away, but then something warm and soft wrapped itself around her. Arms took her and gingerly lifted her up. Then the feeling of the other person lifting her up faded away, and as Rosalba fell out of consciousness, the feeling of warm tightness did not follow her into the void.