ENTER THE DEPTHS
Artist: N/A - Song: N/A - Word Count: N/A
Seething, Seething, Seething.
So much Seething, Hate, Anger, Hate. Hate. Hate Hate. Hate. Hate.
Anything was better than ”That”
. Even hate. Especially hate. Hate, Hate, Hate.
It felt good, it felt great. It pocketed away the nightmares, stashed them away as she could focus her mind on all of the anger, the red, the hate. There was one problem, however: Her hate had no target. There was nothing to hate against, She was just a ball of anger, angry at herself, the world, this life, of reality, but it was not targeted toward anything of valid substance.
All she needed was a target.
Somehow, the girl's transient adventures across the continent of Europe had ended up placing her into the country of France. It was the place of Romance as seen by many, romance, pastries, french fries, and well... a handful of wars.
That was probably why the girl was in a particularly foul mood. It reminded her of ”her”
, it reminded her of the wolf she loved so much. The one she killed, the one she would love until death. She wanted to die for her, instead the brutal irony of a role reversal was all that awaited Ceal, the Bolt of Ruin.
If she could not protect the ones even she loved so much, what was the point? She was an instrument of chaos, a torrential storm of despair and doom. In her infinite sorrow bred hate, it was a breeding ground for the volatile stuff like no other.
Who would have thought that the gentle canvas of an innocent maidens heart would be the one to turn the blackest of black? Slicked and slathered with the sticky darkness, painting a canvas of horror and hate. Hate, hate, hate.
While she was walking at a rather brisk and aggressive pace down the sidewalk accompanying a bunch of shops, she didn't even see the red haired main exit from one of the numerous doors, she didn't even see the bag in his hand, or the smell of freshly baked pastry.
All she could see was the red, the hate, the anger. All she could feel was the volatile energy rising up within her, building up, threatening to escape. She always had a problem controlling her power, it was like a wild horse, a feral beast. It took heavy concentration to reign it in, and right now... she didn't care to, She didn't want to control it, she wanted it to run wild.
Run wild it did, for a stray bolt of electricity shot straight towards the man. Rather, it shot straight towards the bag in his hand. Lest he moved, those delicious pastries would be done for.