Welcome to ANGCRMANAGCMCNT, an independent FMA OC blog! I’m Lilmun, the local little Canadian Cryptid of the RPC, and I’m happy you took the time to look at this little blog of mine! Here you’ll find all the links you need in to get started(mainly for the convenience of mobile users, I know your pain), and it’s just a general greeting from yours truly!
Here you can find the Carrd for the blog! It has the rules, verses, and about pages for the girls(plus I finally got around to making a proper relations page, where you can find all of Anger & Lyssa's friends!).
Now, for a little more about myself! I’m currently 20, and I’m in the general EST time zone but because of a messed up sleep schedule + work I can be all over the place with replies and activity. Feel free to ask me for my discord if we’re mutuals—AKA, if I follow you from my hub blog, @lilhub! This is a sideblog to that one, so I’ll always be following from there!
Troy Saga
❛ do what i say and you'll see them again. ❜
❛ what do you live for? what do you try for? ❜
❛ say no more, i know tat i'm ready. ❜
❛ the blood on your hands is something you won't lose. ❜
❛ is the price i pay endless pain? ❜
❛ something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke. ❜
❛ we should try to find a way no one ends up dead. ❜
❛ why should we take when we could give? ❜
❛ i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart. ❜
❛ have you forgotten the lessons i taught you? ❜
The Cyclops Saga
❛ it's almost too perfect, too god to be true. ❜
❛ what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep? ❜
❛ your life now is in my hand. ❜
❛ remember them, we're the ones who carry on. ❜
❛ what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use? ❜
❛ i am your darkest moment. ❜
❛ i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test. ❜
❛ that's just like you, why should i be surprised? ❜
❛ unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain. ❜
❛ i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done. ❜
The Ocean Saga
❛ at this rate, we won't make it out alive. ❜
❛ please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do. ❜
❛ yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out? ❜
❛ you rely on wit, and people die on it. ❜
❛ you're like the brother i could never do without. ❜
❛ and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out? ❜
❛ keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust. ❜
❛ 'cause the end always justifies the means. ❜
❛ do you know who i am? ❜
❛ you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great. ❜
The Circe Saga
❛ whatever you need to say can wait some more. ❜
❛ there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save. ❜
❛ wouldn't you like a taste of the power? ❜
❛ don't thank me friend, you very well may die. ❜
❛ did you do something to them? ❜
❛ if you make one wrong move, then you're done for. ❜
❛ you and i are now evenly matched. ❜
❛ you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust. ❜
❛ who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make? ❜
❛ this is the price we pay to love. ❜
The Underworld Saga
❛ all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes. ❜
❛ i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died. ❜
❛ when does a man become a monster? ❜
❛ now you tell us our effort's are for nothing? ❜
❛ how has everything been turned against us? ❜
❛ do i need to change? ❜
❛ i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed. ❜
❛ what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along? ❜
❛ what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves? ❜
❛ if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger? ❜
The Thunder Saga
❛ you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life. ❜
❛ i've got a secret i can no longer keep. ❜
❛ you know that we are the same. ❜
❛ we must do what it takes to survive. ❜
❛ tell me you did not know that would happen. ❜
❛ if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame. ❜
❛ how are we supposed to trust you now? ❜
❛ how much longer must i suffer now? ❜
❛ someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say. ❜
❛ please don't make me do this. ❜
The Wisdom Saga
❛ you've made your worst mistake here. ❜
❛ this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good. ❜
❛ you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more. ❜
❛ did you know you talk in your sleep? ❜
❛ i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here. ❜
❛ you don't know what i've gone through. ❜
❛ i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart. ❜
❛ life would be so much worse if you had died. ❜
❛ you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame? ❜
❛ no one beats me, no one wins my game. ❜
He promised he would be with her, today, but he still left, and to add insult to injury, made her promise that she would stay home. Said that it was dangerous outside right now, that there were bad people nearby.
Of course she got upset. How could she not?
Lyssa never liked it when people broke promises; her mama taught her well that she should never make promises she couldn't keep. But it seems like Daddy's mama never taught him that.
And so, when Rosaline comes knocking on the door, asking her to play hide and seek with everyone, Lyssa happily obliges.
She doesn't notice that Rosaline's grin is just a little too wide and a little too sharp, and even if she did, perhaps she wouldn't have cared.
After all, if Daddy could break promises, so could she.
It was always a false alarm anyways.
She had always been good at hide and seek. It was one of her favorite games, really, because Lyssa was very rarely found. The places she would hide were a little odd, yes; if they were in a house she would slip between furniture and the wall, or hide inside of something high-up, like an empty closet or cabinet. If they were outside, she would climb up into a tree and watch from amongst the branches as the seekers tried to find her.
It was nice, sometimes, not being able to be found. Of course, after a while it would get boring, but she would come out laughing either way.
Today, Lyssa decides to switch up her game a little.
Today, she hides in a little cluster of bushes, and she waits.
She counts the branches. She thinks.
She waits.
She doesn't hear anybody nearby. This is fairly normal, in the beginning, but she should hear something by now, right? At least Arthur or George would have passed by. They always searched the entire hiding area from top to bottom first. It feels like it's been hours, why can't she hear anything?
As Lyssa waits, the once-boiling rage has since come to a simmer in her mind. A part of her, albeit small, almost regrets. Almost. After all, it's not like it's her fault. Daddy always could have said no to going in to work. It wasn't like they could make him. He promised her he would stay and he still left.
He left her alone.
She scowls, plucking a leaf off of the branch in front of her. They looked like the leaves on the strawberry bush in the backyard, and Lyssa pulls her knees up to her chest, beginning to fold the leaf into a little square.
She's still mad. But Daddy said he would be back soon, didn't he? Maybe she wouldn't mind losing this game of hide and seek and going home, afterward. If he'd already gotten home, then Daddy would be worried, wouldn't he? As upset as she was, she didn't want him to be scared. She's only seen him scared once, before, when everyone got sick.
She didn't want to see him scared. She knows that being scared is never fun.
Lyssa can hear footsteps nearby. They sound heavier; that was probably Louis. He was the oldest of all of them at fifteen, and his parents were already discouraging him from playing with everyone, though it hadn't stopped him yet.
...Maybe she could still have some fun.
After all, Louis was always spooked real easy. If she just jumped out at him...
He's closer, now. What's taking him so long? And why's he so quiet?
It doesn't matter. He's probably just trying to make sure everyone else hiding doesn't hear him coming.
One moment, two.
" Boo! " Lyssa shouts, grinning wildly as she leaps out of the bush and right into the path of—
...not Louis. That's...not Louis. And he's dressed odd. That's...
Too late does she realize the danger she's in.
Too late does she see the rifle, aimed for her chest.
Too late does she see the finger pull the trigger.
BANG.
There's a ringing sound in her ears.
Lyssa blinks.
She's on the ground. She can feel the grass, beneath her. It's wet, still, because the trees mostly blocked out the sunlight. She can see it now, peering through the leaves. It stings her eyes.
She blinks.
There's a loud sound, just above her. It's almost the same sound that the big gun made, when it fired. It's loud—too loud, it hurts her ears. Everything feels warm. It's October, though—it shouldn't be warm. Her birthday was in a week. It was never warm near her birthday.
Why is it warm? It was cold out just a few minutes ago.
She blinks.
Her father kneels above her. There's a hand on her cheek, slick and wet with something—from the grass, maybe? She tries to open her mouth, tries to speak, but suddenly realizes she can taste metal and when she coughs it's a wet, sticky noise.
She's tired. Everything is blurry.
She blinks.
Lyssa has been pulled into her father's lap. He's speaking. She can't make out what he's saying. She thinks it might be her name. She can't tell, because everything suddenly hurts. There's a pressure in her chest and just barely does she have the lucidity to try and gasp for air.
She can't breathe. It's not enough, nothing is enough and though she tries to speak there is nothing that comes up except thick crimson.
Her mouth moves but there is no sound. She can still hear the ringing.
Why is everything still ringing?
" No, no, look at me, Lyssa, look at me. "
Daddy sounds scared. She didn’t want him to be scared. That’s why she wanted to go home.
When can they go home?
He looks scared, too. He’s crying. Daddy never cried. Not even when Mama died.
He has something in his hand. Something small, some kind of glass, but her head hurts when she tries to make it out.
Her vision fades before she can.
Her father is speaking. She can hear him, she can't see anything but she can hear him.
She's falling. She doesn't know where she is, but she's falling and there's people screaming all around her. Why is everyone screaming? Why does she join them? She knows she does, she can hear herself, distantly.
She can feel the way it tears out of her throat, feel everything ripping apart and coming back together over and over and over—
" I'm sorry, baby, I know, I know, you're going to be okay, I promise— "
Liar. Liar. This isn't okay. This hurts. All at once, each broken promise and every dismissal and every time he didn't listen are brought to the forefront.
She wouldn't even be here if he kept his promise.
How does she make it stop hurting? There's no end. Just screaming and pain and—
" This is new. Is this a new game? What're we playing? "
A voice. She doesn't recognize it. Who's speaking?
Lyssa opens her eyes.
There are faces blurring past. A thousand, million, more, more than she can count. There's no end to them.
The words fall from her lips before she can stop, a desperate plea.
" I don' wanna die. "
A laugh.
A face, shifting out of the rest, a pale, cold hand reaching out and grabbing her own.
" Silly. 'Course you're not gonna die. You got me now. "
She opens her eyes.
There's sunlight, peering through the branches at her. A hello, in a way, a welcome.
She groans, shuts her eyes. She doesn't like the sun very much right now. Everything aches. She finds that it’s hard to breathe, and begins to cough the second that she tries. There’s a hand on her back in the next moment, helping her sit up.
" It’s okay, there you go, you’re alright. "
Someone is holding her. Someone keeps a shaking, sticky hand against her back as she hacks and wheezes, the other gently moving the dark strands of hair away from her face.
She spits blood out, eventually, the dark, clotted remnants of what was in her throat. Her heart thuds away in her chest, and it is such an odd sensation, having a heartbeat. Having a pulse, feeling every single movement. The slightest shift of her muscles as she shudders in the cool air, the blood that was once spilling freely from her veins now making a valiant attempt to replenish itself.
It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much going on, overloading her senses that are all still so new.
And all too soon the hand is gone from her back and in her hair instead, pressing her face into a black and silver uniform tainted with crimson.
She’s flailing immediately, trying to wrench herself away. Everything is still too new, she can feel her lungs moving as she breathes and she doesn't want to.
She manages to finally pull away, scrambling backwards.
The stranger is a man. Older, with blonde hair and blue eyes. His hands are caked with blood and worse that she doesn't even want to think about.
" Lyssa? " He says, and she watches his expression shift from relief to a strange kind of bewilderment.
She doesn't know that name. There is another, however, that comes to mind.
" Who's Lyssa? " She asks.
" My name is Anger. "
Bewilderment melts into something else. Something worse. Something she doesn't have a name for, and for the first time in her existence, Anger the Irritable feels fear.
" What are you? " The man asks. She can hear how his voice trembles.
More importantly, she notices one of his hands now reaching back, behind him.
She wants to answer him. She does, but really, she isn't quite sure herself.
Anger opens her mouth to try, but falters.
The hesitation is all he needs.
Bang.
A bullet whizzes past her ear.
She scrambles to her feet, and she runs.
The trees pass her by in a blur. She can hear someone behind her, feel the ground trembling as they start to catch up. Where does she go? How does she get out?
Faster. She has to be faster. She has to—
She's shoved to the ground, a hand covering her mouth, and this new person speaks, hissing in her ear.
" You idiot, quit squirming or he'll find us! Stupid human, stupid, wrecking everything— "
Anger can't breathe. There's too much weight on her, whoever this is, they're holding her down and they're heavy. She tries to struggle, but a hit to the back of her head leaves her dizzy.
Her heart is beating faster, faster, faster. Is it supposed to be this loud, this quick?
Her vision blurs.
She tries to gasp for breath, to no avail, and the world goes dark.
Envy scowls, peering out of their little hiding place to ensure the coast was clear.
Wrong, wrong, this had all gone wrong. And the stupid human that caused all of this had already gotten away.
Well. It wouldn't matter, either way. Even if the brat did blab, everyone here would get wiped out anyways. Speaking of...
" Oi. Get up. "
They poke her, garnering no response.
" I'm not carrying you. You're gonna walk just like the rest of us. "
Nothing, still. She really was out cold.
...Damn it.
Envy kneels down, lifting the kid up and carelessly tossing her over their shoulder. Everything else had already fallen into place, their only job now was to get their newest sibling back to Central.
At least the long train ride would give them a chance to figure out how to explain this to Father...and figure out exactly how screwed they were.
He promised he would be with her, today, but he still left, and to add insult to injury, made her promise that she would stay home. Said that it was dangerous outside right now, that there were bad people nearby.
Of course she got upset. How could she not?
Lyssa never liked it when people broke promises; her mama taught her well that she should never make promises she couldn't keep. But it seems like Daddy's mama never taught him that.
And so, when Rosaline comes knocking on the door, asking her to play hide and seek with everyone, Lyssa happily obliges.
She doesn't notice that Rosaline's grin is just a little too wide and a little too sharp, and even if she did, perhaps she wouldn't have cared.
After all, if Daddy could break promises, so could she.
It was always a false alarm anyways.
She had always been good at hide and seek. It was one of her favorite games, really, because Lyssa was very rarely found. The places she would hide were a little odd, yes; if they were in a house she would slip between furniture and the wall, or hide inside of something high-up, like an empty closet or cabinet. If they were outside, she would climb up into a tree and watch from amongst the branches as the seekers tried to find her.
It was nice, sometimes, not being able to be found. Of course, after a while it would get boring, but she would come out laughing either way.
Today, Lyssa decides to switch up her game a little.
Today, she hides in a little cluster of bushes, and she waits.
She counts the branches. She thinks.
She waits.
She doesn't hear anybody nearby. This is fairly normal, in the beginning, but she should hear something by now, right? At least Arthur or George would have passed by. They always searched the entire hiding area from top to bottom first. It feels like it's been hours, why can't she hear anything?
As Lyssa waits, the once-boiling rage has since come to a simmer in her mind. A part of her, albeit small, almost regrets. Almost. After all, it's not like it's her fault. Daddy always could have said no to going in to work. It wasn't like they could make him. He promised her he would stay and he still left.
He left her alone.
She scowls, plucking a leaf off of the branch in front of her. They looked like the leaves on the strawberry bush in the backyard, and Lyssa pulls her knees up to her chest, beginning to fold the leaf into a little square.
She's still mad. But Daddy said he would be back soon, didn't he? Maybe she wouldn't mind losing this game of hide and seek and going home, afterward. If he'd already gotten home, then Daddy would be worried, wouldn't he? As upset as she was, she didn't want him to be scared. She's only seen him scared once, before, when everyone got sick.
She didn't want to see him scared. She knows that being scared is never fun.
Lyssa can hear footsteps nearby. They sound heavier; that was probably Louis. He was the oldest of all of them at fifteen, and his parents were already discouraging him from playing with everyone, though it hadn't stopped him yet.
...Maybe she could still have some fun.
After all, Louis was always spooked real easy. If she just jumped out at him...
He's closer, now. What's taking him so long? And why's he so quiet?
It doesn't matter. He's probably just trying to make sure everyone else hiding doesn't hear him coming.
One moment, two.
" Boo! " Lyssa shouts, grinning wildly as she leaps out of the bush and right into the path of—
...not Louis. That's...not Louis. And he's dressed odd. That's...
Too late does she realize the danger she's in.
Too late does she see the rifle, aimed for her chest.
Too late does she see the finger pull the trigger.
BANG.
There's a ringing sound in her ears.
Lyssa blinks.
She's on the ground. She can feel the grass, beneath her. It's wet, still, because the trees mostly blocked out the sunlight. She can see it now, peering through the leaves. It stings her eyes.
She blinks.
There's a loud sound, just above her. It's almost the same sound that the big gun made, when it fired. It's loud—too loud, it hurts her ears. Everything feels warm. It's October, though—it shouldn't be warm. Her birthday was in a week. It was never warm near her birthday.
Why is it warm? It was cold out just a few minutes ago.
She blinks.
Her father kneels above her. There's a hand on her cheek, slick and wet with something—from the grass, maybe? She tries to open her mouth, tries to speak, but suddenly realizes she can taste metal and when she coughs it's a wet, sticky noise.
She's tired. Everything is blurry.
She blinks.
Lyssa has been pulled into her father's lap. He's speaking. She can't make out what he's saying. She thinks it might be her name. She can't tell, because everything suddenly hurts. There's a pressure in her chest and just barely does she have the lucidity to try and gasp for air.
She can't breathe. It's not enough, nothing is enough and though she tries to speak there is nothing that comes up except thick crimson.
Her mouth moves but there is no sound. She can still hear the ringing.
Why is everything still ringing?
" No, no, look at me, Lyssa, look at me. "
Daddy sounds scared. She didn’t want him to be scared. That’s why she wanted to go home.
When can they go home?
He looks scared, too. He’s crying. Daddy never cried. Not even when Mama died.
He has something in his hand. Something small, some kind of glass, but her head hurts when she tries to make it out.
Her vision fades before she can.
Her father is speaking. She can hear him, she can't see anything but she can hear him.
She's falling. She doesn't know where she is, but she's falling and there's people screaming all around her. Why is everyone screaming? Why does she join them? She knows she does, she can hear herself, distantly.
She can feel the way it tears out of her throat, feel everything ripping apart and coming back together over and over and over—
" I'm sorry, baby, I know, I know, you're going to be okay, I promise— "
Liar. Liar. This isn't okay. This hurts. All at once, each broken promise and every dismissal and every time he didn't listen are brought to the forefront.
She wouldn't even be here if he kept his promise.
How does she make it stop hurting? There's no end. Just screaming and pain and—
" This is new. Is this a new game? What're we playing? "
A voice. She doesn't recognize it. Who's speaking?
Lyssa opens her eyes.
There are faces blurring past. A thousand, million, more, more than she can count. There's no end to them.
The words fall from her lips before she can stop, a desperate plea.
" I don' wanna die. "
A laugh.
A face, shifting out of the rest, a pale, cold hand reaching out and grabbing her own.
" Silly. 'Course you're not gonna die. You got me now. "
She opens her eyes.
There's sunlight, peering through the branches at her. A hello, in a way, a welcome.
She groans, shuts her eyes. She doesn't like the sun very much right now. Everything aches. She finds that it’s hard to breathe, and begins to cough the second that she tries. There’s a hand on her back in the next moment, helping her sit up.
" It’s okay, there you go, you’re alright. "
Someone is holding her. Someone keeps a shaking, sticky hand against her back as she hacks and wheezes, the other gently moving the dark strands of hair away from her face.
She spits blood out, eventually, the dark, clotted remnants of what was in her throat. Her heart thuds away in her chest, and it is such an odd sensation, having a heartbeat. Having a pulse, feeling every single movement. The slightest shift of her muscles as she shudders in the cool air, the blood that was once spilling freely from her veins now making a valiant attempt to replenish itself.
It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much going on, overloading her senses that are all still so new.
And all too soon the hand is gone from her back and in her hair instead, pressing her face into a black and silver uniform tainted with crimson.
She’s flailing immediately, trying to wrench herself away. Everything is still too new, she can feel her lungs moving as she breathes and she doesn't want to.
She manages to finally pull away, scrambling backwards.
The stranger is a man. Older, with blonde hair and blue eyes. His hands are caked with blood and worse that she doesn't even want to think about.
" Lyssa? " He says, and she watches his expression shift from relief to a strange kind of bewilderment.
She doesn't know that name. There is another, however, that comes to mind.
" Who's Lyssa? " She asks.
" My name is Anger. "
Bewilderment melts into something else. Something worse. Something she doesn't have a name for, and for the first time in her existence, Anger the Irritable feels fear.
" What are you? " The man asks. She can hear how his voice trembles.
More importantly, she notices one of his hands now reaching back, behind him.
She wants to answer him. She does, but really, she isn't quite sure herself.
Anger opens her mouth to try, but falters.
The hesitation is all he needs.
Bang.
A bullet whizzes past her ear.
She scrambles to her feet, and she runs.
The trees pass her by in a blur. She can hear someone behind her, feel the ground trembling as they start to catch up. Where does she go? How does she get out?
Faster. She has to be faster. She has to—
She's shoved to the ground, a hand covering her mouth, and this new person speaks, hissing in her ear.
" You idiot, quit squirming or he'll find us! Stupid human, stupid, wrecking everything— "
Anger can't breathe. There's too much weight on her, whoever this is, they're holding her down and they're heavy. She tries to struggle, but a hit to the back of her head leaves her dizzy.
Her heart is beating faster, faster, faster. Is it supposed to be this loud, this quick?
Her vision blurs.
She tries to gasp for breath, to no avail, and the world goes dark.
Envy scowls, peering out of their little hiding place to ensure the coast was clear.
Wrong, wrong, this had all gone wrong. And the stupid human that caused all of this had already gotten away.
Well. It wouldn't matter, either way. Even if the brat did blab, everyone here would get wiped out anyways. Speaking of...
" Oi. Get up. "
They poke her, garnering no response.
" I'm not carrying you. You're gonna walk just like the rest of us. "
Nothing, still. She really was out cold.
...Damn it.
Envy kneels down, lifting the kid up and carelessly tossing her over their shoulder. Everything else had already fallen into place, their only job now was to get their newest sibling back to Central.
At least the long train ride would give them a chance to figure out how to explain this to Father...and figure out exactly how screwed they were.
⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ He hasn't figured out why they're laying on the floor but he can't say he minds it. Sometimes they do this. Lay down and stare at the sky, in the middle of the night and struggle to the see the stars through all the light pollution. There's just something about staring out at the inky black that makes him feel like it's staring back at him sometimes and that makes him think.
He knows the mess she's been in. He knows it ain't been fuckin' pretty even if he doesn't know the extent of it, he still knows she's been in the shit and come back from it. There is a heavy inhale that fills the bulk of this chest that he holds for a long moment before he lets it back out in one drawn out exhale.
"Yeah 'n most things 'er fuckin' bullshit Ly'. Aren't you tired'a it all? Every'hin' keeps fuckin' up n' don't we deserve like a fuckin' weekend 'er some shit? You sound like onna them stuffed shirt pricks that try ta sound all scholarly 'n shit. Sayin' shit's worse than death. Yeah we fuckin' know but those hoity-toity bastards jus' say that shit ta sound smart with no life experience. I've lived shit worse then death."
He's groaning as he sighs again, golden eyes focused on the sky above.
"I ev'r ta'ya 'fore that God is an asshole 'cos 'e is. I hate that fucker. "
She says this, despite what felt like countless weekends full of chaos having already passed them by. Regardless of intention, trouble was always hot on their heels, clawing for any scraps left in their wake. And yet still, she laughs and smiles as she thinks of some more ornery moments.
" Scholarly, huh? Should I take that as a compliment? I never went t'school. " Of course, there are bits and pieces that Anger can recollect. She can read decently well, and while her handwriting is absolutely atrocious, she can spell most words correctly. Other knowledge like math and science easily slipped through the cracks in her memories, like sand through her fingers.
That's fine though. Those weren't all too important right now anyways.
Her smile fades, however, falls into more of a grimace as she glances to where Edward lay at her side. She opens her mouth to speak, tries to find the right words, but they refuse to reveal themselves.
Ultimately, she looks away again, back at the sky.
" ...Yeah. Yeah, I think you've said that before. Can't say I don't agree, really. " The Irritable tilts her head, gives a small, contemplative hum before biting the proverbial bullet. Perhaps a topic change might lighten the mood a little.
" ....D'you think the stars have stories? "
To her credit, it is something she's been thinking about lately.
" I remember hearin' once, that some real old people got together one day an' made shapes outta them, and gave those shapes stories. I'unno if that's true, but 's kinda funny t'think about. "
In the depths of the Comodeen, a child exits a room for the first time in days.
Kumo's room was a lovely place. It wasn't small, but it had plenty of room for her to just sit and be. And that is what she had been doing, for the last little while, but after too long one tends to go a little stir-crazy and Anger was no different.
She had known from the start that leaving this room always held a risk; either she may get lost within the(what felt like) endless halls of the Comodeen, or someone would find her and question what she was doing all by herself, or.....
Arlott would be lurking.
Even so, the risk had seemed worth it, in exchange for some kind of change in her surroundings.
As she steps outside and closes the door behind her, everything is fine. As she walks down the hallway and rounds a corner, it is very suddenly no longer fine, and she is face-to-face with the worst possibility she had considered.
Her heart nearly stops when she locks eyes with Arlott, violet against blue, and now the risk was very much not worth it.
She wants to look away, wants to run, but she can’t. She’s frozen in place, stuck to the ground beneath her.
She’s going to die here, isn’t she?
Here, in this hallway, nobody will be the wiser, nobody will be able to find her before she is returned to the Nothing she had been torn out of.
She doesn't want to die.
Not after everything, not after Kumo had already perished in her stead. Not after she finally has a friend.
Anger is scared.
She wants to turn tail and flee, she does, every instinct screams for her to do as much, and yet she still cannot move. The thought occurs to her, will they find what remains of her once everything is all said and done?
Will there even be anything left? Or will she be little more than dust clouding the air, crumbled away and forgotten as if she were never there at all?
Each thought, every possibility runs through her mind like a train on the track to certain doom. It doesn't know how to slow and Anger knows better than to hope it can ever stop.
She feels a hand on her face and returns to reality to find that he's close—too close—and she flinches away, tries to draw back away, but he's grabbed her arm and won't let her go. Panic consumes her and she tries to hit him with her still-free limb, but he's faster than she is; her heartbeat is wild and uncontrolled in her ears as he grips her other arm, though she does not quite register how gentle he is about it—only that it is there and it is despised.
It is worse when she realizes he is speaking. He shifts his grip so he is holding both of her hands with one of his, returning his other to her face, and Anger can feel it as the world seems to slow to a crawl. It is just them, now, suddenly, and she is painfully aware of how alone they are.
" It's me, baby, " he whispers, " it's just me. "
Blue eyes are warm like the sky.
That's the problem, she wants to retort, but the words get stuck in her throat and her eyes are burning and she doesn't know why.
" See? It's just me, baby bird, it's me—breathe. Can you do that for me? "
She doesn't want to. She wants to hold her breath 'til she turns blue just to spite him. But that won't get her anywhere, and she isn't stupid enough to make this worse for herself. Arlott is acting odd, but this is better than him just attacking her, isn't it?
This is confusing, but at least it doesn't hurt.
It does.
The rage burns in her lungs, makes her choke on all she wants to scream.
I hate you. Get away from me. Don't call me that. I'm not a child—I'm not your child. Stop pretending.
She once more tries to tug herself out of his grip; each breath that escapes sounds more and more like a death rattle, her lungs stuttering with each intake of air. It isn't safe here. She doesn't want to be here.
And he still just grabs the knife and twists.
" It's okay, Lyssa, you're okay, I'm right here. "
And oh, how enraged she suddenly is. That is not a name he is allowed to use. That is not her name, he lost the right to call her that name when he threw her away.
Why is she suddenly good enough to be Lyssa again?
She isn't. Maybe one day, she could be, but not yet, even though she wants it.
Oh, how she wants it.
" Go away. "
The words are small, but she can see how they sting. Anger can feel how his grip on her loosens, how he pulls away just a little, and she takes advantage of it. She pulls away too, backs up even as he reaches for her again because she doesn't want this. She thought she might have, once upon a time, but that storybook was slammed shut far too long ago.
She can't want it again. She won't put herself through that again.
" Go away and stay away. Or—or else. " Her voice trembles, and Arlott opens his mouth to speak, but in the end says nothing. She shouldn't have expected anything else from him, really.
Why did she expect something different?
She watches him, as she moves to the other end of the hallway. He just kneels there, watching her, until she moves around the corner and loses sight of him.
Hello! It's been a bit, and I am planning on being more active here, but I do have one thing to say:
It's the girls' fourth anniversary!!
I'll be honest, being in this RPC and having these two as muses has drastically changed my life. Not only the experience I've gained from developing them, but the friends that I've made, and all I can say is thank you.
I was planning on having the Origins post done today, but sadly that didn't work out. It will be up soon though! I'm crossing my fingers at least.
For now, I've actually gone ahead and made a carrd for the blog! I'll likely be adding to the relations & verses page in little increments and may tweak it a bit, but for now I'm happy with it!
And again, thank you. It's been a wonderful four years and I hope for many more to come.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ "I know what you mean, Miss Lyssa." He confirms as he shifts in place to watch her and he can only imagine how much of an effort on her part this all has to be to tell the truth. She doesn't seem practiced in it and from what he can tell she's been lying through her teeth to most everyone from the minute she got here.
Just how close to the Soil is this girl?
It's not really his place to question her motives or situation and he doesn't know who the person or people who don't want her safe are but he can at least sympathize with it.
He doesn't even know if the people after her, are even here.
His however....
"I have people that don't want me safe either."
It's a saying of camaraderie. It's an attempt to connect through a mutual understanding. He doesn't know her situation entirely and part of him doesn't know if it's even his place to ask. Yet he does so anyway.
"Is there anything I should know about these people so I can better protect you?"
There's a smile on his face even if half of it is covered by thin metal. His eyes do a well enough job to let the other know the expression he is attempting to convey. He knows she doesn't feel safe and he can sympathize with the sensation of never being able to proper rest one's head for the danger that lurks in the world is unknown and even when you know where the source is coming from it's hard to rest when you never know when will the next time you'll need to run.
He can sympathize where he fails to under and thus he listens and tries to ask the questions that will provide him the needed facts without forcing her to convey too many of the messy feelings that are far to complicated and scary to put into words.
She's a child and he can't imagine living the way she is at her age. Even if he was a boy when he landed in this world, he was nearly a man but she is - she is no where near the adulthood he was when His Excellency sunk his claws into him....
"You needn't tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable, Miss Lyssa. Only what I need to know, to protect you. I told you as long as there was a heart beating in my breast you would be safe, and as such anything you can tell to make this task easier, I would be much appreciative."
She tugs at the collar of her sleeve. Takes a breath. This will be fine. Kumo will keep her safe. He's said he will. He's promised, and sure, people break promises all the time, but Kumo isn't like that.
Maybe she's still trying to convince herself, but. He's not like that.
Kumo's shown her as much. Hasn't he?
" He's tall. Stupid tall, really. " She can imagine him, in her mind's eye. It isn't hard; she's seen him enough to know what he looks like. She doesn't even know if she ever could forget. Sometimes she wants to.
" Not as tall as Black Wind, though. He...He's still big though. More'n 6 foot. He's got curly hair. Short, but curly, kinda. An' he's blonde. Amestrian. An' he's got bright blue eyes, like... "
Like ice. They're cold enough to be ice, really. She can never forget that look he would always give her. Somewhere between hatred and...something else, that she can't quite place. Maybe regret.
It's a nice thought, at least.
" His name's Axel Arlott. He's... "
Kumo deserves the context. He said she didn't have to tell him anything she didn't want to, and yet—she wants to tell him the truth. He deserves the truth after all of this. After all he's put up with. Fuck, he was burned from the inside out because of her. He needlessly died because of her.
She just needs to bite the bullet at this point.
" He's the person who made me, an'—an' he's after me 'cause I—I wasn't— "
I wasn't made right, she tries to say, but the words won't leave her, despite how she tries to force them from her throat. She takes a breath, stares at the buttons on the cuff of her sleeve. She starts to count the holes, the little spots she's nicked over the years with sewing needles. Four, eight, twelve.
The words come out easier this time, even though her chest feels tight and it almost feels like she chokes on them.
" I didn't—I...I wasn't right, at first. I didn' turn out how I was supposed to. "
