Fallen Lights: RO POVs

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<<nobr>> <<set $gamechapter to "Selection Menu">> <</nobr>><div class="choice">[[Florian's POV: What Happened While Packing...|Florian Ch 1 Kiss]]</div>\ ''Takes place during Chapter One.'' <div class="choice">[[E's POV: If You're The Last Thing I See...(That'd Be Okay)|E Ch 2 Injury]]</div>\ ''Takes place during Chapter Two.''

by Dakota Smith

<span class="foo">$gamechapter</span>

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<<nobr>> <<set $gamechapter to "Florian's POV: <br> What Happened While Packing...">> <div class="centered-image"> [img[images/florianch1.png]] </div> <br> <</nobr>>"Need some help?" Florian freezes in his task, the sound of your voice making his heart beat faster. He glances up, seeing you standing is his doorway, haloed by the light of the hallway. The lingering anger and upset from the conversation he'd had with his mother drains away at the mere sight. "Always, if it's you." He says before getting a chance to truly think through his words. Stupid, stupid, //stupid//. Seriously? He'd only touched you once last night, though the feel of your cheek beneath his fingertips is admittedly one he'll never forget. That isn't a bad thing at all except, apparently, it's caused him to lose all sense of reason. He clears his throat, adding on quickly, "Uh, I mean, if you want to help, that is." <div class="choice">[[You merely tease him back, "Always, if it's you."|teased back]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You smile, but he can tell it's forced by the way your eyes crinkle in concern. He wonders what you're worried about...is it him?|worried about him]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You shut his door behind you, "Of course, I do. Looks like you might need it either way."|need help]]</div>\

He falters for a moment, opening his mouth. No words escape as he looks at you, sees the mirth in your eyes and the teasing slope of your grin. Suddenly, he recalls how desolate he was for the longest time after he lost his father. He used to pray for someone to be sent to him that would understand what he was going through, someone who would love him regardless. He would kneel on his knees and stare up at the night sky, whispering his pleas to any deity that would listen. Cyrela, the Mother. Vamerin, the Son. Vaenta, the Daughter. He begged the entire pantheon for any sort of comfort. His prayers were answered, finally, but he never thought any Ebian divinity sent you to him. Florian's father used to tell him of the Leydonian deity Odesus, who was created of the brightest star plucked from the sky. Odesus was his father's patron, the God of Time and Destiny. It had felt like a punch in the face to his younger self when he realized the New Captain of the Queen's Guard called his ?sibling Star. You, a //star//. He likes to think Odesus was watching out for his devotee's son, despite the difference of culture and the crossing of borders. Maybe he's romanticizing things too much, but sometimes it sure feels like destiny. [[Sometimes...like right now.|touche]]

He winces, "Well, yes." He falters for a moment to watch as you enter the room. No more words escape as he looks at you and sees the mirth in your eyes and the teasing slope of your grin. Suddenly, he recalls how desolate he was for the longest time after he lost his father. He used to pray for someone to be sent to him that would understand what he was going through, someone who would love him regardless. He would kneel on his knees and stare up at the night sky, whispering his pleas to any deity that would listen. Cyrela, the Mother. Vamerin, the Son. Vaenta, the Daughter. He begged the entire pantheon for any sort of comfort. His prayers were answered, finally, but he never thought any Ebian divinity sent you to him. Florian's father used to tell him of the Leydonian deity Odesus, who was created of the brightest star plucked from the sky. Odesus was his father's patron, the God of Time and Destiny. It had felt like a punch in the face to his younger self when he realized the New Captain of the Queen's Guard called his ?sibling Star. You, a //star//. He likes to think Odesus was watching out for his devotee's son, despite the difference of culture and the crossing of borders. Maybe he's romanticizing things too much, but sometimes it sure feels like destiny. [[Sometimes...like right now.|well yes]]

"Are you okay?" You ask as you move further into the room. He falters for a moment, opening his mouth. No words escape as he looks at you, sees the worry in your eyes and the concerned purse of your lips. Suddenly, he recalls how desolate he was for the longest time after he lost his father. He used to pray for someone to be sent to him that would understand what he was going through, someone who would love him regardless. He would kneel on his knees and stare up at the night sky, whispering his pleas to any deity that would listen. Cyrela, the Mother. Vamerin, the Son. Vaenta, the Daughter. He begged the entire pantheon for any sort of comfort. His prayers were answered, finally, but he never thought any Ebian divinity sent you to him. Florian's father used to tell him of the Leydonian deity Odesus, who was created of the brightest star plucked from the sky. Odesus was his father's patron, the God of Time and Destiny. It had felt like a punch in the face to his younger self when he realized the New Captain of the Queen's Guard called his ?sibling Star. You, a //star//. He likes to think Odesus was watching out for his devotee's son, despite the difference of culture and the crossing of borders. Maybe he's romanticizing things too much, but sometimes it sure feels like destiny. [[Sometimes...like right now.|of course]]

"Touché." His mouth finally cooperates, but the word still feels clumsy. You pick up a few shirts off his chairs as you walk in, the bright sunlight giving the room a vastly different atmosphere than it had the previous night. He wonders if you're thinking about it as you glance around the room. He is. Honestly, he hasn't been able to stop. "Make sure to pack good travel wear." Your voice is wry as you remind him, "It'll be a good two weeks ride, we might be camping on the road more often than not." "Oh, how ever will I survive." He faints dramatically back onto his bed, looking up at you with a grin he hopes isn't too lovesick, "Remember when my mother thought it'd be good elemental training to leave me on the other side of a river with no bridge?" "Gods, yes, I do." You pinch your nose in exasperation, "She wouldn't go get you either. Said you had to find your own way across." "I was over there all day until bed time came and Adeline found out." He bites the inside of his cheek, the memory turning sour in his mind, "Either way, I can survive camping for a few days." Most things with his mother nowadays have a bitter aftertaste to them. What he thinks is a funny memory? No, it's just child endangerment. In hindsight, every interaction with her feels like an assault on his heart. This morning certainly was, at the very least. The conversation about the upcoming quest had been hellish, and ended up in a screaming match on Florian's part. His mother, though...she was as composed as ever. The same stoic face and slightly narrowed eyes. She loathed his //outbursts//, as she liked to call them. <div class="choice">[[You sit beside him on the bed, a hand brushing his shoulder and sending electricity running across his nerves, "Are you alright?"|you alright?]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You move closer to where he's lounging, looking down at him in thinly veiled concern, "Are you alright?"|you alright? no touch]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You look down at him and, for the briefest moment, he sees some kind of longing in your eyes. Then you smile, saying, "Well, luckily for you, I don't plan on leaving you behind at a river."|no rivers]]</div>\

He props himself up on his elbow, and he's sure his expression is far too soft and vulnerable, "I am. Thank you, $name, really. I appreciate that you came to me more than you know. I always knew I could trust you." You nod, "With anything." His hand is inching toward yours, his heart in his throat as he watches you. Your eyes are pinning him in spot as he swallows, trying to gather whatever courage he has to press on. Glancing up at you, he whsispers, "Anything?" He moves your palm to rest on his chest, right over his aching heart. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt like it's natural. "Anything." You confirm, your eyes shining in the early morning wash of light. Jerking upward, he feels like you've pured a bucket of cold water over his head, "You mean that?" "I do." You say, and it's the chaos of the end of the world in Florian's mind. "I..." He cuts himself off, praying he doesn't say anything foolish and scare you off, "I hope you know you can trust me with anything as well." His face is close enough that you could lean forward and close the gap if you so desired. He hopes you do...he hopes you desire him like he desires you. It's a burning thing, curled in chest. He's nursed it for awhile, and he never imagined... [[Your lips are warm and everything Florian has ever wanted.|the kiss]]

"How kind," He scoffs as props himself up on his elbow, and he's sure that despite his grin his expression is probably far too soft and vulnerable, "But...thank you, $name, really. I appreciate that you came to me more than you know. I always knew I could trust you." You nod, "With anything." His hand is inching toward yours, his heart in his throat as he watches you. Your eyes are pinning him in spot as he swallows, trying to gather whatever courage he has to press on. Glancing up at you, he whsispers, "Anything?" He moves your palm to rest on his chest, right over his aching heart. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt like it's natural. "Anything." You confirm, your eyes shining in the early morning wash of light. Jerking upward, he feels like you've pured a bucket of cold water over his head, "You mean that?" "I do." You say, and it's the chaos of the end of the world in Florian's mind. "I..." He cuts himself off, praying he doesn't say anything foolish and scare you off, "I hope you know you can trust me with anything as well." His face is close enough that you could lean forward and close the gap if you so desired. He hopes you do...he hopes you desire him like he desires you. It's a burning thing, curled in chest. He's nursed it for awhile, and he never imagined... [[Your lips are warm and everything Florian has ever wanted.|the kiss]]

You pick up a few shirts off his chairs as you move closer, the bright sunlight giving the room a vastly different atmosphere than it had the previous night. He wonders if you're thinking about it as you glance around the room. He is. Honestly, he hasn't been able to stop. "Make sure to pack good travel wear." Your voice is wry as you remind him, "It'll be a good two weeks ride, we might be camping on the road more often than not." "Oh, how ever will I survive." He faints dramatically back onto his bed, looking up at you with a grin he hopes isn't too lovesick, "Remember when my mother thought it'd be good elemental training to leave me on the other side of a river with no bridge?" "Gods, yes, I do." You pinch your nose in exasperation, "She wouldn't go get you either. Said you had to find your own way across." "I was over there all day until bed time came and Adeline found out." He bites the inside of his cheek, the memory turning sour in his mind, "Either way, I can survive camping for a few days." Most things with his mother nowadays have a bitter aftertaste to them. What he thinks is a funny memory? No, it's just child endangerment. In hindsight, every interaction with her feels like an assault on his heart. This morning certainly was, at the very least. The conversation about the upcoming quest had been hellish, and ended up in a screaming match on Florian's part. His mother, though...she was as composed as ever. The same stoic face and slightly narrowed eyes. She loathed his //outbursts//, as she liked to call them. <div class="choice">[[You sit beside him on the bed, a hand brushing his shoulder and sending electricity running across his nerves, "Are you alright?"|you alright?]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You move closer to where he's lounging, looking down at him in thinly veiled concern, "Are you alright?"|you alright? no touch]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You look down at him and, for the briefest moment, he sees some kind of longing in your eyes. Then you smile, saying, "Well, luckily for you, I don't plan on leaving you behind at a river."|no rivers]]</div>\

"Of course," His mouth finally cooperates with him, though the words feel stunted and akward, "What part of the mess implies I'm not?" You pick up a few shirts off his chairs as you move closer, the bright sunlight giving the room a vastly different atmosphere than it had the previous night. He wonders if you're thinking about it as you glance around the room. He is. Honestly, he hasn't been able to stop. You sigh slightly, as if you don't believe him but won't press the subject for now, "Just make sure to pack good travel wear. It'll be a good two weeks ride, we might be camping on the road more often than not." "Oh, how ever will I survive." He faints dramatically back onto his bed, looking up at you with a grin he hopes isn't too lovesick, "Remember when my mother thought it'd be good elemental training to leave me on the other side of a river with no bridge?" "Gods, yes, I do." You pinch your nose in exasperation, "She wouldn't go get you either. Said you had to find your own way across." "I was over there all day until bed time came and Adeline found out." He bites the inside of his cheek, the memory turning sour in his mind, "Either way, I can survive camping for a few days." Most things with his mother nowadays have a bitter aftertaste to them. What he thinks is a funny memory? No, it's just child endangerment. In hindsight, every interaction with her feels like an assault on his heart. This morning certainly was, at the very least. The conversation about the upcoming quest had been hellish, and ended up in a screaming match on Florian's part. His mother, though...she was as composed as ever. The same stoic face and slightly narrowed eyes. She loathed his //outbursts//, as she liked to call them. <div class="choice">[[You sit beside him on the bed, a hand brushing his shoulder and sending electricity running across his nerves, "Are you alright? Really?"|you alright?]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You move closer to where he's lounging, looking down at him in thinly veiled concern, "Are you alright? Really?"|you alright? no touch]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[You look down at him and, for the briefest moment, he sees some kind of longing in your eyes. Then you smile, saying, "Well, luckily for you, I don't plan on leaving you behind at a river."|no rivers]]</div>\

He leans forward into you until you're the one half pressed to the bed beneath him. He feels dazed, drunk on the touch of the one person he never thought he'd get to have. You finally pull apart and his breath ghosts along a whine as your hand comes up to cup his cheek, your fingertips calloused from years of studying and training. "And you...want this?" You ask him in a hushed tone, your hand releasing him, seeming as pained to seperate as he is. "I'd be a fool not to." He lowers his head and his nose nudges your cheek, placing a kiss just beneath your ear and trailing his lips along your jaw, "If you want this, want us, I assure you that I am wholeheartedly ready. I have desired similar for far longer than you can imagine." You breathing is heavy by the time he ends up at your lips once more, grazing another kiss like a suffocating man seeking air. He shifts forward, his hands just finding your sides when a thump has the both of you jumping out of your skin. Glancing over the edge of the bed, you both find a pair of his riding boots have clattered to the floor along with a few pairs of pants. "We're making a bigger mess, aren't?" He chuckles quietly, rubbing small circles into your palm with his hand, "I think these clothes are even more wrinkled now." <div class="choice">[[You can't seem to help it. You laugh.|laughing]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[["You should back them then," You say, your words sensible despite the fact that he can tell you don't want to move away either.|clingy]]</div>\

He pouts slightly, "Oh, come on." "Sorry, sorry." You grin at him in a way he's only daydreamed about, "Just never imagined...that." "What, the kiss or me bringing up my clothes right after like a dolt?" He picks up a shirt, tossing it at your face with a small, giddy smile. "Both. Mostly the kiss." You catch it easily, tossing it right back. He bats it away, reluctantly finding your ease of movement attractive. You've always been the one person who could but him in his place. "I don't know why." He says as he folds a pair of pants before tossing them into his trunk, "I'd be a fool if I didn't fall for you." Your eyes flutter for a second, and he can't tell what exactly you might be thinking. They you come close again, planting a brief kiss on his cheek, so he figures he must have said something right. [[It's strange; an odd passing over of friends into something more as you fill his luggage, but certainly not unwelcome.|aftermath]]

He pouts slightly, "Right." "The sooner it's done, the sooner you can do other things." You grin at him in a way he's only daydreamed about, "Whatever the things are that you...want to do." His grin probably looks bordeline giddy but he can't help it, "I wonder what that could be?" "No idea." You say breezily, picking up a shirt and tossing it at his head, "Make sure you fold them." He bats it away, reluctantly finding your smooth movements attractive. You've always been the one person who could but him in his place. "Whatever you say," He says as he folds a pair of pants before tossing them into his trunk, "I'd be a fool if I didn't listen." Your eyes flutter for a second, and he can't tell what exactly you might be thinking. They you come close again, planting a brief kiss on his cheek, so he figures he must have said something right. [[It's strange; an odd passing over of friends into something more as you fill his luggage, but certainly not unwelcome.|aftermath]]

When you leave, seeming rather reluctant to go, he squeezes your hand before you can walk out the door. Then he watches you go, his eyes following you until you turn from the hallway. He then closes his door, leaning against it for support. This isn't a dream. He won't wake up. He keeps repeating that mantra in his head, trying to comprehend what just happened. He's practically vibrating as he pushes his now-filled and latched trunk off on the floor, running his hands through his hair as he paces for a moment. His fingers catch on the curls and he gives up, knowing he's just making a mess of himself. He settles for laying back on his bed, grinning up at his ceiling like an idiot. He can stay here, basking, for a few moments longer. [[He'll allow himself that much.|end flor packing kiss]]

Thank you for playing //Florian's POV: What Happened While Packing// and thank you for your continued support! [[Return to Selection Menu|Selection Menu]]

What is your name? <<textbox "$name" "" "e ch 2 select">> [[Continue...|e ch 2 select]]

<<nobr>> <<set $gamechapter to "Emil's POV: <br> If You're The Last Thing I See...(That'd Be Okay)">> <div class="centered-image"> [img[images/emilch1.png]] </div> <br> <</nobr>>Emil hears Marcella sigh up ahead, "Incoming party. A big one, too." "Merchants?" Florian asks from right in front of him, trying to peek around you and Marcella's horses to see. He looks up, seeing the larger group quickly approaching in the distance. An unsettled feeling curls in his stomach and something seems off about the whole thing. They're moving fast and aggressive, wholly unlike a caravan of merchants. "What?" Dimitri sounds confused as he calls out from the very back, "There should be no merchants this close-" Emil is watching as it happens, which almost makes it worse. The arrow strikes your horse in the hindquarters and your scream is deafening. Your grip on the reins slip as you fall to the ground, your horse bucking with a terrible squeal. He's out of his saddle in an instant, rushing toward you with his heart in his throat. His companions are moving, too; Florian is using the wind to repel an attack, and Marcella is drawing her sword. He doesn't know about the others travelling with them and, right now, he doesn't particularly care. Staying low, he dodges the horses fleeing in a frenzied panic, careful not to slip on the ice coating the ground as he approaches your still form. There's no blood, he tells himself, which is good news. He hopes, at least. You could've always broken your neck, he thinks grimly, immediately cursing himself for being incapable of having one optimistic thought. Your chest is moving when he kneels by you side, though, so he pushes everything else away. "$name," He calls out, trying to scream over the roar of fire and the thunder of hooves slamming into frozen ground. They're close and you're vulnerable. He knows this won't end well and tries to brace for the inevibility of death that surely awaits. Emil always knew it would come for him in the end, he just never imagined it would take the rest of you with him. "$name!" He screams this time, shaking you as roughly as he dares. //Ah.// There you are, slowly coming to. Your eyes flutter open, hazy and confused, the color dimmed by what's most likely a nightmare of a concussion. [[Arrows thud into the ground around you both and Emil finds he isn't above manhandling you to get you out of the way.|m e arrows]]

<<nobr>> <<set $gamechapter to "Emilia's POV: <br> If You're The Last Thing I See...(That'd Be Okay)">> <div class="centered-image"> [img[images/emiliach1.png]] </div> <br> <</nobr>>Emilia hears Marcella sigh up ahead, "Incoming party. A big one, too." "Merchants?" Florian asks from right in front of her, trying to peek around you and Marcella's horses to see. She looks up, seeing the larger group quickly approaching in the distance. An unsettled feeling curls in her stomach and something seems off about the whole thing. They're moving fast and aggressive, wholly unlike a caravan of merchants. "What?" Dimitri sounds confused as she calls out from the very back, "There should be no merchants this close-" Emilia is watching as it happens, which almost makes it worse. The arrow strikes your horse in the hindquarters and your scream is deafening. Your grip on the reins slip as you fall to the ground, your horse bucking with a terrible squeal. She's out of her saddle in an instant, rushing toward you with her heart in her throat. Her companions are moving, too; Florian is using the wind to repel an attack, and Marcella is drawing her sword. She doesn't know about the others travelling with them and, right now, she doesn't particularly care. Staying low, she dodges the horses fleeing in a frenzied panic, careful not to slip on the ice coating the ground as she approaches your still form. There's no blood, she tells herself, which is good news. She hopes, at least. You could've always broken your neck, she thinks grimly, immediately cursing herself for being incapable of having one optimistic thought. Your chest is moving when she kneels by you side, though, so she pushes everything else away. "$name," She calls out, trying to scream over the roar of fire and the thunder of hooves slamming into frozen ground. They're close and you're vulnerable. She knows this won't end well and tries to brace for the inevibility of death that surely awaits. Emilia always knew it would come for her in the end, she just never imagined it would take the rest of you with her. "$name!" She screams this time, shaking you as roughly as she dares. //Ah.// There you are, slowly coming to. Your eyes flutter open, hazy and confused, the color dimmed by what's most likely a nightmare of a concussion. [[Arrows thud into the ground around you both and Emilia finds she isn't above manhandling you to get you out of the way.|f e arrows]]

<div class="choice">[[Emil Renaud (He/Him)|male e injury ch 2]]</div>\ <div class="choice">[[Emilia Renaud (She/Her)|female e injury ch 2]]</div>\

You pull youself onto shaky legs and Emil takes most of your weight with your arm wrapped around his shoulders. You're moving too slow, though; Emil hears the screams slowly surrounding him, a cacophony he's not unused to, and he knows he has to make a decison. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he pushes you back into the bushes as gently as he can afford. He glances around, looking for danger, //always// looking for danger- Always looking in the wrong places, too. It's a bittersweet emotion, when the arrow pierces his chest. He didn't cheat death, but he's always known death intimately enough to realize he couldn't get away with it even if he wanted to. //You//, though. You weren't going to get dragged down with him, and he finds some solace in that. The silence around him is piercing, but he always knew there would be nobody to shed tears over him at his deathbed. He falls roughly to the ground, and the earth is cold. Even as warm blood soaks the dirt below, he feels a chill deep in his bones. They're coming for him, at long last. He can envision the hundreds of hands dragging him over to the other side, ripping him apart like they always wanted to. He struggles to breathe, panic flaring to life for a brief moment until- Hands. Not the hands he was expecting, though. Warm, full of life, pulling him back from the brink. He opens his eyes, the darkness dissipating as he sees your damned face again. He knows a thing or two about being haunted, yet the color of your eyes hounds him far more than any ghost. Blood is bubbling past his numb lips and he knows it can no longer be delayed. He'll surely die here, but at least it's you he sees before he goes. He knows your face well; he drew the shape of it many times as a child. Your likeness had graced more than one of his sketchbooks. Then the books had gone up in flames, along with your friendship. It's funny how imminent death makes a person wish they had lived a life worth being proud of. No, instead he spent all his breaths buying a crumb of attention from people who likely won't even mourn him. His parents have spares, after all. He grieves for his brothers and sisters, and what will become of them now that he's gone. "$name," Emil whines, and he can hear the wetness in the back of his throat, "$name-" He doesn't really know what he wants to say and he quiets as he sees your tears spill over. //Huh.// Looks like someone will be there to cry over him. It's a shame his corpse will be the one to get your attention; the very same attention he coveted yet always rebuffed. [[His fingers go cold, and he finds he doesn't have the strength to open his eyes again. He hears your scream, though, echoing even as drifts away.|nightmare]]

The screams are much louder now. Out of the darkness comes their greedy hands, translucent but deadly, ready to carve his flesh and rend his body into parts. They've always wanted to devour him, but never could before. Luckily for them, spirits have nothing but time, even if they lack patience. He feels five years old again, trapped in the crypts and trying in vain to hone his skills. The nights with fresh bodies were always the worst; those spirits were confused, not yet driven mad by the afterlife, and he used to weep for them. He weeps now, too, but for himself. It's a sickening realization, knowing he'll soon be one of these faceless ghosts, pining for a pound of living flesh. He'll scream and howl, too, going unnoticed by the majority of the living. He covers his face like he used to as a child, those clawed fingers digging deep into his skin. Blood runs down his forearms, his scars torn open as he cries out. //For who?// A mocking little voice inside him asks. //Who would bother coming?// Long ago he learned that his family would never save him. His siblings couldn't and his parents wouldn't. He thinks, delusioned, that you might. You'd always been a bright spot amongst the murky waters he lived in. He never let you rescue him before; was it his pride that got in the way, or was he actually just foolish? The question is sour on his tongue, and he knows it's too little too late. He's far out of your reach now. Even if you had any grace left in you to want to save him, you couldn't. [[As the claws grow sharper and dig deeper, he jerks. A flash of pain in his chest makes him open his eyes to the land of the living once more.|Selection Menu]]

You pull youself onto shaky legs and Emilia takes most of your weight with your arm wrapped around her shoulders. You're moving too slow, though; Emilia hears the screams slowly surrounding her, a cacophony she's not unused to, and she knows she has to make a decison. Grabbing you by the shoulders, she pushes you back into the bushes as gently as she can afford. She glances around, looking for danger, //always// looking for danger- Always looking in the wrong places, too. It's a bittersweet emotion, when the arrow pierces her chest. She didn't cheat death, but she's always known death intimately enough to realize she couldn't get away with it even if she wanted to. //You//, though. You weren't going to get dragged down with her, and she finds some solace in that. The silence around her is piercing, but she always knew there would be nobody to shed tears over her at her deathbed. She falls roughly to the ground, and the earth is cold. Even as warm blood soaks the dirt below, she feels a chill deep in her bones. They're coming for her, at long last. She can envision the hundreds of hands dragging her over to the other side, ripping her apart like they always wanted to. She struggles to breathe, panic flaring to life for a brief moment until- Hands. Not the hands she was expecting, though. Warm, full of life, pulling her back from the brink. She opens her eyes, the darkness dissipating as she sees your damned face again. She knows a thing or two about being haunted, yet the color of your eyes hounds her far more than any ghost. Blood is bubbling past her numb lips and she knows it can no longer be delayed. She'll surely die here, but at least it's you she sees before she goes. She knows your face well; she drew the shape of it many times as a child. Your likeness had graced more than one of her sketchbooks. Then the books had gone up in flames, along with your friendship. It's funny how imminent death makes a person wish they had lived a life worth being proud of. No, instead she spent all her breaths buying a crumb of attention from people who likely won't even mourn her. Her parents have spares, after all. She grieves for her brothers and sisters, and what will become of them now that she's gone. "$name," Emilia whines, and she can hear the wetness in the back of her throat, "$name-" She doesn't really know what she wants to say and she quiets as she sees your tears spill over. //Huh.// Looks like someone will be there to cry over her. It's a shame her corpse will be the one to get your attention; the very same attention she coveted yet always rebuffed. [[Her fingers go cold, and she finds she doesn't have the strength to open her eyes again. She hears your scream, though, echoing even as drifts away.|f nightmare]]

The screams are much louder now. Out of the darkness comes their greedy hands, translucent but deadly, ready to carve her flesh and rend her body into parts. They've always wanted to devour her, but never could before. Luckily for them, spirits have nothing but time, even if they lack patience. She feels five years old again, trapped in the crypts and trying in vain to hone her skills. The nights with fresh bodies were always the worst; those spirits were confused, not yet driven mad by the afterlife, and she used to weep for them. She weeps now, too, but for herself. It's a sickening realization, knowing she'll soon be one of these faceless ghosts, pining for a pound of living flesh. She'll scream and howl, too, going unnoticed by the majority of the living. She covers her face like she used to as a child, those clawed fingers digging deep into her skin. Blood runs down her forearms, her scars torn open as she cries out. //For who?// A mocking little voice inside her asks. //Who would bother coming?// Long ago she learned that her family would never save her. Her siblings couldn't and her parents wouldn't. She thinks, delusioned, that you might. You'd always been a bright spot amongst the murky waters she lived in. She never let you rescue her before; was it her pride that got in the way, or was she actually just foolish? The question is sour on her tongue, and she knows it's too little too late. She's far out of your reach now. Even if you had any grace left in you to want to save her, you couldn't. [[As the claws grow sharper and dig deeper, she jerks. A flash of pain in her chest makes her open her eyes to the land of the living once more.|Selection Menu]]

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