the stars have been snuffed from the sky. what follows her home is not the break of dawn, golden rays bathing the streets in soft glow. even the moon has decided to abandon her for the night; it hides behind wispy clouds. no ---- what ends up following her home on this unfortunate night was the insistent pressure of her own hand against her abdomen, laboured breath, and quickly fleeing strength.
recklessness has finally gotten her, she knows. there was nothing graceful about her hunting ---- one would be able to tell she was too emotionally charged, and that never made for good servicemen. countless warnings from her family had fallen on death ears. after all, this was her rage and no one could tell her how to channel it, what to do with it, how to shape and mould it into a hideous shape. but she had gotten by so far, even as she veered from the code of conduct and toyed with her prey rather than cleanly making the kill, so she continued with her ways and her family turned a blind eye to her rebellious ways.
but ---- ah. a sharp gasp is torn as the pain slices through the haze her mind has insisted upon to manage the pain. she does not cry during hunts. it’s unbecoming, but without a soul to see, the tears dot her eyes as she tries to minimise her noise. surely, if she managed to attract just one more foe, that’d be the end of her. and she couldn’t die yet! she had a score to settle ---- though how, she wasn’t sure, and when it would finally be repaid, may simply be never.
the power of familiarity leads her on the path home, and it takes all her strength to hold onto the doorframe rather than simply collapse on the floor. the frame is now smeared with her own blood, but that’s not really her problem, is it? “muriel,” she gasps, calling for the servant that should be on duty, awaiting for ana to return to tend to her after hunts. even one second’s wait is far too long for the wounded girl, and she manages to squint into the distance despite her doubled-over form. it’s not muriel, which on any other day would be a cause for alarm ---- her family had secrets to keep, after all, and only a select few of the staff were privy to the family’s true legacy. in fact, if she tries hard enough, she could make out the few features that discern who is standing before her, watching her bleed out, and it’s certainly a person she least wants on this case.
“bleeding,” she gasps out again, as if anyone could miss the darkness staining her hand. “help.” / @lettertothemoon
