Nightmares Are Evil Bitches
A broken body surrounded by creepy figures in a golden room. Stairs and an altar that had this strange box. Some sort of clergy member standing by Vanille who happened to be wearing this ugly hat. Guns trained on the person watching and yet not on Vanille...
What was going on? If the intricate blend of physical pain and despair that wrecked her body was any indicator, Vanille was in danger! Something to do with that golden box. If she could think straight, Fang could remember why she would be here.
But what is Vanille doing? Why isn’t she fighting them? Doesn’t she know by now that she needs to survive no matter what? It has to be a life or death thing, otherwise why would I have tried to stop it?
“Vanille!!!” Fang called out, only for the events transpiring to continue as if she hadn’t been there at all. If only she could stand, grab her lance and destroy whatever the hell is emitting that light!
One final pulsing light emitted from the freakish chest, resulting in Vanille falling halfway down the stairs. Fang felt the sob of grief release, accompanied by what felt like a blown out throat.
The bastards just celebrate and pay no attention to their precious ‘Sacred One’ lying breathless. Gone, their all gone, and all they....
Looking at the body and listening to the bells toll, it felt like a beginning of years of regret. She failed to save Vanille...
~~~~~~~
Fang jolted upright as a blast of thunder echoed through the room. Sweating, hurting, the huntress felt some relief finding herself in an ordinary room. Tanned hands clamped around her mouth screaming only one name.
“VANILLE!!!!”
Fang found herself in tears just as she was, hands muffling shouts to the best of her ability. For five minutes she did this while wits were gathered.
“Vanille...” Fang breathed, body remembering the traces of how that dream felt. “That was Vanille. Nightmare... Just a bad dream! Gotta be.”
Fang turned to stare at the clock before releasing a groan. Too early to want to start a new day, but hell will freeze over before she can go back to sleep. It shook her to the core, and since others are still sleeping, Fang quietly got out of the bed to head to the living room.
Still shaking, the huntress picked up her lance and a maintence kit. Scenes still played through her head, which meant she needed to do something to try and distract herself. If not, then the ptsd will add another problem, and wake up everyone.
Starting with the blades, Fang started to adjust them, letting one of the blades knick her palms. Fang hissed a bit and took a quick look at it.
“Nothing serious.” she muttered, if she were in a calmer state of mind, she would have tended to it. Oddly enough, it was painful and nothing to enjoy about it. Merely use it ground herself to reality. “This better not become a habit though...”
Her hands weren’t bleeding in that dream, so this has to be the reality. Another knick happened, this time Fang merely held a cloth to it since she didn’t want to just bleed all over her lance, continuing to work.
It would be in this state that she would be found. Dismantling her weapon to redo it, a couple knicks and bleeding.















