@kintsgi › it’s a cruel act , but not one the assassin regrets in the slightest. it’s revenge. the blade previously plunged into lie blood is yanked from flesh , flinging droplets onto moonlit grass below &. not once does blake turn to face her former friend. in fact she’s silent as she wipes gambol shroud off in the grass before placing it back along her shoulders. ❛ an eye for an eye. ❜ she calls , hushed in her tone. ❛ ... don’t follow me. ❜ &. with that , a shadow takes her place &. she flees. › unscripted knife.
they hadn’t been able to dissociate blake with the colour grey for a very long time. in a world comprised of colour, in which it created the very foundation of their society they had since lost the ability to see it with the same vibrancy. living a life distorted by death, destruction, through the lens of a distorted psyche was beyond them. but sometimes, things came back into focus, and ren was reminded that they were surviving on half measures, that their life would never be as full as someone without a semblance that only tightened it’s hold on their neck. so when they sensed her ( 40% ) they might not have been ready to combat her assault, but they were prepared — whether it was to endure or die was a different story. belladonna was swifter, and more driven by the bloodlust of an entitled rage, zeroed in on ren’s person. she swung with precision ( 30% ) and all the determination of someone who had something to prove.
what could they say ? nothing really. their clan had been ordered to strike down her own. it didn’t matter that ren had been elsewhere, that they hadn’t personally been ordered to kill any of her clan. they aligned with the hémù assassins and therefore had to suffer. gods knew that they might done the same if the blade had been in the other hand. a dodge, the spark of blades as jade clashed her own obsidian metal. ( 20% ) they could barely feel the pain of the attack, semblance closing in on them to send the last of their pain receptors into a deep sleep. they could taste the blood though, still feel the sensation of blood soaking into darkening garb. they knew this was meant to hurt, that they should have seen their own blood dripping off her sword ( 10% ) and been horrified that someone who had once reminded them how much they loved the colours blue and gold could do this to them. but even when they looked up from the floor to stare at felid’s silhouette, she looks grey. the blood of sword looks an inky black, and her eyes ... just different shades of grey.
they knew it was meant to hurt, but now, all at once, they no longer care. they feel nothing.
the last time they’d seen her, the light had gone out in their eyes, their already dim world was robbed of colour in its entirety. when they met her again in the lush green forest of beacon, they wondered if it would always be the same ? because since her betrayal, they’d never seen the colour gold the same way again. only dull yellows, or light browns.
the rest is grey. grey. grey.
