Random Short Stories/Written Ideas

Quoth the Raven... (WiP P.2)

A numbness curled around the white-haired woman, wrapping her up gently and softly, as she stared at the unmoving body of her friend. Laughter crowed from the shameless lord stood beside Void.

He was laughing.

Something molten began to grow within her, a tightening pressure causing her temples to shout in protest. She wanted to burn, and burn, possibly even go catatonic. 

And he was laughing.

Then a light weight settled on her shoulder. A comforting one. She tilted her head slightly, peering off to her side. There stood another woman, one with hair as pale as her own, and large white wings. A silver halo hung suspended above her head. Her blue eyes were glassy with grief and furious tears, but she wasn't looking at Raven. She was glaring daggers at her uncle with a ferocity that made her molten core feel like nothing more than a small flame in comparison.

A crack splintered through the numbness at seeing such a display of raw hatred, but the hand that rested on her shoulder tightened, gripping onto her as though she were a lifeline in a vast, undulating ocean of monsters.

But with the words Halo spoke, Raven knew it was quite the opposite.

"Eviscerate him."

Shock sluiced through her, causing her eyes to widen for the briefest moment. But it melted away, acceptance taking its place.

The laughter had ceased.

Violet flared beside her, flames dancing. And from the flames, a wickedly curved scythe was born, the blade glinting in what light was provided by the magic. 

"It would be my pleasure," was her response as she twisted the lengthy weapon. A haunting clang rang out, bouncing around, serving as something akin to a death knell, as the scythe's blade hit the ground. Little sparks flickered around it, then died, only to be reignited as she dragged her most treasured weapon with ever slow step she took towards Lord Aaron. The screeing of the metal-against-stone made the angels wince, and Void bare its teeth, but she couldn't care less.

Her pupils had shrunken down to almost barely visible pinpricks, the pressure in her skull building, and building, begging for release. She let herself feel the pain from West's death. She allowed herself to feel sad.

But most of all, she allowed herself to feel angry, and righteously so. 

Distantly, she wondered if Deci would be proud of her for not running from her emotions, or burying them, but she reminded herself she was about to raise Hell using said emotions. That didn't sound like the healthiest way of dealing with such things.

The only sign of Lord Aaron's discomfort was the slightest shuffling of a foot sliding backwards. It was small, but it made her smile, nonetheless. 

"I normally like my meat rare..." Very rare, chuckled a little voice in the back of her head. God help Deci if he heard her 'before frying' quip. "...But I think I'll go for something a bit crispier this time." 

She didn't give the angels any time to respond. She tore off, rushing towards them, flames nipping at her heels in waves of varying shades of violet.

Oh, she was going to enjoy this.