Freedom Fighter
The sounds of harsh snapping filled the room as the girl violently pulled her sword back, preparing to strike again. It crackled and snapped, slamming into her opponents and just as quickly soaring back to her like a bird to its songstress. Her will was its command, there was no room for arguments.
Especially at a time like this.
Her bright green eyes narrowed dangerously as she danced around her sword, detaching and reattaching the chained pieces and forcing them to bend in any direction her once fellow cult members were heading from. She was easily outnumbered but as long as she had her whip-sword, no harm could befall her. It was the two of them against all she knew.
Her golden hair gleamed in the light as she bounced graciously, dancing around the links of her sword. She fought fervently, almost as if the devil was in the room. When she had knocked over one cultist, another replaced him, attempting to bring her down. However, it didn’t matter how hard they tried for she was too quick. It was almost as if her sword could sense the impending danger that loomed over her shoulder, breathing down her neck, and stepping on her heels. It acted for her; like the limbs that she needed to keep the dance going. She once felt like the puppet master, pulling the attachments of the blade as she commanded but her mind was too far gone, lost in the quick snaps the blade produced when it bounced off of the walls and the floor. Even when it slammed into the bodies of the cultists, it kept screeching that wonderful tune to remind her to keep dancing to its- their song.
“Yes,” she thought, dragging the chains near her again and creating a spiral around her body, shredding the fingers of the cultists that tried to grab her and just barely grazing against her black dress, draped in ribbons of dark pink and gold. As she spun she looked up at the light in the ceiling, pursing her fair lips and closing her emerald eyes. Their screeches didn’t reach her ears as her head was filled with the sound of the rattling chains ricocheting off of the ground when she stopped twirling and slamming back into the hilt of the pink sword lined with gold in her hand. She stepped almost carelessly over the bodies of the cultists, unperturbed by the blood that stained her white boots. She dropped her hands to her sides, her legs clad in black leggings wobbled slightly as she released the tension in her body. She panted heavily, gazing around the room to find that she was the winner of this battle; the lone victor in the arena.
Just as she had started for the exit to embrace her hard earned freedom, more cultists had come rushing into the room. She sighed grimly, clutching the whip-sword tightly and adopting a battle stance, swinging her arm back and unleashing her fury upon the persistent cultists. The ex-cultist found that a small ember sparked in her chest when the chains snapped against the cult members; it kindled in her chest until it began to burn her from the inside like a roaring fire. This feeling couldn’t be anything other than joy. She began to dance with her partner and savior again, “I do enjoy the snapping sound it makes. Much more than the dull thuds of their bodies falling to the ground.” Her emerald eyes darkened with murderous intent as another group of cultists barged into the room, a feeble attempt at stopping her from escaping.
Once again, the girl reared her arm back and prepared herself for the fight that would determine her future. The fight that would determine if she could finally be free.
“Leave me alone…or regret it!”
-Faithless Lidica
