Her father raised his claws, their tips
glowing green. The answering glow of the spiteful curse wrapping upon
the manacles on her wrists. She desperately tried to hold her ground,
wincing, ears flush to her head. The acrid smell burned in her nose,
though not nearly so painfully as the necrotic spell burned her skin.
His voiced echoed in the concrete room. “Even your gladium trash
mother didn't want a runt like you.”
For
some
pain, even time does not dull. Callista
reflected sadly, buttoning her long shirt sleeves to cover the bands
of scars on her wrists.
((Originally, I made this one slightly too long. If you would like to read the Full Version:
The
memory played itself ruthlessly in her mind as it had in her
dream:
Her father's face snarled as he raised his claws, their
tips glowed a bright, chartreusean green. It matched the harmonious
glow of the spiteful curse wrapping upon the manacles on her wrists.
She desperately tried to hold her ground, wincing as her ears laid
flush to her head. The acrid smell burned in her nose, though not
nearly so painfully as the necrotic spell burned her skin. His voiced
echoed in the concrete room. “Even your gladium trash mother didn't
want a runt like you.”
The words stabbed just as harshly as
they had then.
For some pain, even time does not dull. Callista
reflected sadly, buttoning her long shirt sleeves to cover bands of
patchwork scars and sparse fur on her wrists.))
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