This is based on @riririkinzi 's au on Tumblr, follow her to give her some love.
Nimona felt somewhere, deep in their chest, that something was wrong. It was a mere thought when leaving her camp near the village, a paranoid whisper as she climbed up the mountain, and a war drum when she smelled the blood.
The blood, so potent, so heady and metallic, and Nimona's heart stopped when she smelt it while still miles from the orphanage. The fear flooding in her veins shocked her legs to move faster, caution abandoned as they headed through dangerous short cuts and slippery slopes to find the terrible scene in front of her.
The humble walls were shredded, the kitchen shed was on fire, and at the doorstep, Lady Valerin's body lay still. Johnley, Azurean, and Wessen, the three of the youngest children in the orphanage, lay sprawled near her, with the small abandoned infant that was found last week smushed under Lady Valerin's arms.
All their bodies were intact and whole from where Nimona could see them, but the vast bed of red snow ruined any illusion of life for Nimona. They wondered if their wail was loud enough to reach the village below. The unsettling surety of their fates didn't stop Nimona from rushing to press her fingers to the area in the neck. Pressing gently like older brother Ballister had told her to. Hopelessness increasing as none of them held any gentle pulse, their skins feeling cold to her fingertips, and they swallowed back bile as they flipped over Azurean to see bruised and blotted skin give way to a savage laceration that spilled her intestines to the snow.
Nimona's eyes burned with tears, and she didn't think she had the strength to go inside to see who else was lost to the gore, who else she had lost while sleeping free in the wild. But she had to, she owed it to them to find those who still hung on.
This she prayed, as she stepped into the threshold.
But prayers were not meant to be heard, and Nimona wondered if the gods would ever hear her out if her vocal chords shredded from how loud she was crying. Every room, every corridor, every tile of the floor seemed to have blood stains on them, and every body she had passed so far were so brutally desecrated that she didn't have the strength to look further than the lack of the rise and fall of their chests, if they were even intact.
She wondered back to a story that Ballister had told her, of demons that plagued the land, hungry only for human flesh and their misery. If a demon was responsible for this, she hoped it was full and sleepy so she could find it fast and slip her knife between their stomach, spilling out the rest of her family's bodies and make the demon repent for orphaning her again.
The last room was hers, hers and Ballister's as the eldest children in the orphanage and the ones most responsible for keeping the income flowing, they had spent so many sleepless nights sharing their crazy ramblings about life and what Bal remembered of his parents, their hazy days with chores and work with calls for 'Boss' was shouted everywhere ever since Nimona shared to the other kids how perplexed it would make Bal, Nimona's early days being taught by the man with the heavy feeling of contentment. Even if Ballister was known as older brother by everyone in the orphanage, to her, he was like a father.
Would she survive seeing their room torn and stained red with blood?
Would she survive seeing her father figure, in whatever state his body was in, still and lifeless?
Would she survive being alone again?
She finds herself scared at how the answer to those questions calmed her. No, she wouldn't survive. Because if she found Ballister dead beyond this door, and was unable to find the killer by sun fall, she would dig a hole big enough for all of the bodies that now littered the orphanage, and herself as well.
With the shaking of her hands lessened by the revelation, she slid open the door. And chocked back a sob at seeing a slumped figure in the middle. Their wall was blasted, and Nimona could barely wonder what could have possibly caused such destruction, only wishing that her father's last sight was off the beautiful moon, she shuffled closer in pale acceptance of the fate of her home.
In a daze, she registers the singed wooden walls and furniture, Ballister's axe embedded deep in the floor board that she retrieves before continuing, and lastly, upon kneeling before the body, Nimona finds the lack of Boss' right arm.
"When I said I was your right hand man, I didn't mean it literally," Nimona says, feeling nonsensical as she rests her head on the corpse's chest. Perhaps to awaken once more to find this whole nightmare to be but a dream, perhaps to rest and replenish energy for all the digging she'll need to do. All she knows was that she rested her head on his chest expecting to find a cold and stiff pillow.
Instead, she feels warmth and the smallest remains of a heartbeat.
She thinks she cries as she hurries to heave Ballister on to her back, the tears burning tracks on to her cheeks as they blurred her vision. She remembers sheathing Ballister's axe to her waist, in case she met whatever beast that destroyed the orphanage, she remembers tracking through the snow and using the same risky shortcuts just to cut the time to the village healer shorter. She remembers the weight on her back shifting, and her foot slipping from the slippery ground. She remembers falling from a great height, hitting tree branches and glancing off of sharp rocks. She remembers seeing the blinding white snow below and wondering how much longer she had until she met the ground.
When she came to, she found her fall broken by the white snow, and Ballister standing up.
"Boss!" She scrambles up to meet him, her heart pounding as she sees the strange way the older teen was holding himself, no doubt greatly injured and hurt. "Boss, c'mon, get on my back. You can't make it the rest of the way with your injuries-" her voice tapers off at a strange keening sound that comes out of Ballister's mouth. Like grinding porcelain shards together, it raised the hairs on Nimona's arms, and as the fear started flooding her veins, she hesitates before taking another step forward.
"Boss?"
The sound coming from Ballister's mouth grew louder, and Nimona's feet felt like lead as her hands unsheathed the axe, raising it in the nick of time to stop teeth sinking into her face. Toppling under the force of her attacker, she finds herself with her back to the ground and pushing her arms to the limit to avoid the pointy fangs and sharp nails from piercing her nails.
Her tears have dried by now, her eyes clear in both sight and fear. There was no mistaking the attacker above her despite their slit eyes, fiery hair, and animalistic growling.
Perhaps Nimona was in a nightmare, cause impossibility was staring at her face as she screams at her brother who was turned into demon.
N/A
Hey guys, so I know you've all probably heard of the crisis in Palestine and want to find a way to help. So if you're willing, I found some sites that can help in supporting Palestine. Hopefully we can join in the fight in our own ways.
https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/thank-you/
A click will result in a 1$ donation from the sponsors of the site. It's for free too. :))
https://bdnaash.com/
https://boycott.thewitness.news/
These sites can help you search up products to see if they are affiliated with Israel and avoid them. You can also help them expand their list to include products that support the apartheid that are not listed on their database.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/C1AFXd7PMcu/?igsh=YjdvNGZ2YjVkYzR4
This link shows a video that informs you on how to send e-sims to the people of Gaza for them to stay updated. It also briefly explains the process of distribution as well as the price.
https://islamic-relief.org/appeals/yemen-crisis/
https://islamic-relief.org/appeals/palestine-emergency-appeal/
https://islamic-relief.org/where_we_work/sudan/?gclid=Cj0KCQiAy9msBhD0ARIsANbk0A-N7x5MdIjAZ58nYc0pTyApEB5VFxyE7M4AU2zHLGAPCY_ZYzmW2HsaAioNEALw_wcB
https://islamic-relief.org/appeals/horn-of-africa-appeal/
https://www.savethechildren.org/us/where-we-work/democratic-republic-of-congo
These sites lead you to Islamic Relief Organization to Yemen, Palestine, Sudan, the Horn of Africa, and Congo. You can donate whatever you are willing, any amount helps. Or you can learn more from their informative articles.
https://samidoun.net/category/events/
This site helps keeps you updated on any protests that you might be interested in joining to support Palestine.
Stay loud, stay strong, and above all, do not stop talking about the genocide.