seasonedcat
bloodless
As the dust cleared Kyo looked upon the fallen body of her enemy. A sick sensation of pleasure filled her body and absorbed her thoughts. She felt the rush of pleasure filling her longs and running through her veins, she had never felt so alive. A emotionless chuckle began to choke it's way up her throat before engulfing her in a low volumed fit of laughter. As the laughter overtook her her body began to feel weak and pain began to radiate from the wounds she had acquired like a hot knife.
Her laughs began to become wheezes as she suddenly was at a lost for breath, her vision swimming as she struggled to stay standing. Her breathes came out in heavy gasps as she almost fell to her knees, catching herself on her scythe. As she did so she became aware of the blood soaking her arm. With her little strength she threw her scythe as far from her as she could, which wasn't that far, allowing herself to fall helplessly onto her knees.
Her stomach began to feel sick with pain as she sat there whimpering. Closing her eyes she could still feel the other's presence, the rage that still was slowly disappearing within her. She hated this feeling of weakness. It reminded her to much of what had happened to her before, and the fear from earlier began to creep into her again. This wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to be able to live again without the sickness, she wanted to be healthy again.
She wanted to be able to rest, to close her eyes and wake up when she wanted, not when she had to or else she'd be punished. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to be in all this pain. She didn't want this. Tears weld up in her eyes, her left one being absorbed by the black fabric of her eye patch. Why had she let that thing control her? She finally had control over her life and what she did with it, and she just gave it to that thing without a second thought.
She was weak. She was a disgrace. She was sitting in the dirt that was mixed with her blood crying because she didn't get what she wanted. Utterly pathetic. She was pathetic. With every breathless gasp she took pain volted through her lungs and her ribs, she had defiantly done something there. Actually everything hurt, she had defiantly done something everywhere. That thing hadn't given two shits about her body, and she had just let it take control of her.
Her pain was her fault. She was too weak. Her sickness was her fault. She was too weak to fight it. She was always weak, she would always be weak. Sobs raked through her body as she shook from them and from the physical weakness she was feeling from overexertion. She dug her fingers into the dirt as she bent over letting her blood and tears drip from her face onto the dirt. Pain flared up in her fingernails as she pushed down on the dirt until her fingernails cracked and blood mixed with dirt was spill out from under them.
She had lost a lot of blood and was loosing even more now. Not to mention she was breathing in broken gasps now. Everything was feeling light and she was going to faint soon, she new she was. But would anyone care all that much? No one had cared the first time she died, no more people would care the second time either. She was just a weak, nobody, slave girl that had no purpose. She would just fade away like a rose and nobody would notice. Why should they anyway?
Her laughs began to become wheezes as she suddenly was at a lost for breath, her vision swimming as she struggled to stay standing. Her breathes came out in heavy gasps as she almost fell to her knees, catching herself on her scythe. As she did so she became aware of the blood soaking her arm. With her little strength she threw her scythe as far from her as she could, which wasn't that far, allowing herself to fall helplessly onto her knees.
Her stomach began to feel sick with pain as she sat there whimpering. Closing her eyes she could still feel the other's presence, the rage that still was slowly disappearing within her. She hated this feeling of weakness. It reminded her to much of what had happened to her before, and the fear from earlier began to creep into her again. This wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to be able to live again without the sickness, she wanted to be healthy again.
She wanted to be able to rest, to close her eyes and wake up when she wanted, not when she had to or else she'd be punished. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to be in all this pain. She didn't want this. Tears weld up in her eyes, her left one being absorbed by the black fabric of her eye patch. Why had she let that thing control her? She finally had control over her life and what she did with it, and she just gave it to that thing without a second thought.
She was weak. She was a disgrace. She was sitting in the dirt that was mixed with her blood crying because she didn't get what she wanted. Utterly pathetic. She was pathetic. With every breathless gasp she took pain volted through her lungs and her ribs, she had defiantly done something there. Actually everything hurt, she had defiantly done something everywhere. That thing hadn't given two shits about her body, and she had just let it take control of her.
Her pain was her fault. She was too weak. Her sickness was her fault. She was too weak to fight it. She was always weak, she would always be weak. Sobs raked through her body as she shook from them and from the physical weakness she was feeling from overexertion. She dug her fingers into the dirt as she bent over letting her blood and tears drip from her face onto the dirt. Pain flared up in her fingernails as she pushed down on the dirt until her fingernails cracked and blood mixed with dirt was spill out from under them.
She had lost a lot of blood and was loosing even more now. Not to mention she was breathing in broken gasps now. Everything was feeling light and she was going to faint soon, she new she was. But would anyone care all that much? No one had cared the first time she died, no more people would care the second time either. She was just a weak, nobody, slave girl that had no purpose. She would just fade away like a rose and nobody would notice. Why should they anyway?