WHERE: a practice courtyard, somewhere in the backs of the arena
WHEN: blood brawl round one, in between shiva v. divina and razan v. sèleste
WHO: closed for @razanhell
Five.
As one of the land’s greenling vampires, Divina’s human years have not yet escaped her memory. Braided amongst half a century’s reveries, there have been five moments that have shown her what it might mean to be satisfied.
Each lasted just that—a moment—before a new, deeper craving took its place.
Her eyes are opened when she is a child, draped in fresh silks and another’s name, and the echoes of the opera hall teach her to dream;
She is a girl, rocking a newborn through the night, and she learns what the fuss about love has been all this time;
She is a woman, limbs and lips tangled with the nocturnal kingdom’s crown jewels, and she grows a taste for blood;
She is a vampiress, the beauty in disingenuity, mistress of her song and her stage, and finally she is acquainted with purpose;
She is a power, painting the Dome’s floor with the blood of an ancient one, against all better odds, and all bore witness.
Her inaugural Brawl performance leaves behind an imprint — an echo of the crowd’s roar, a searing image of an audience in ovation during a final bow. She leaves the arena, skin and nails speckled scarlet with Shiva’s blood. Swift steps take her through the coliseum’s hallways, and already, the taste of victory is not enough. She craves something more.
She craves a sixth moment.
Adrenaline and confidence push reason aside, and instinct moves her too quickly to allow Divina time to second guess her trajectory; in a moment, she’s face to face with them.
“Razan?” she asks. Approach slow, intent eyes wide, Divina joins them in the courtyard. “I saw your match is next on the schedule, I wanted to come wish you luck.”
“Of course,” she begins to tease, and a hint of play curves red lips upward at the corners, “I’ll be off to say the same to Sèleste in a moment. Unlike you, though, she’ll need it.”