Video ❖ 1
[The sound of choking and spitting is heard before the screen displays a blur of fuchsia and red. It's the red that lingers, however, as a hand unconsciously touches the screen, leaving behind three streaks of blood before it then presses on an open wound. To anyone familiar with firearms, it will probably be obvious that she has been shot several times. The blood stained teeth and choking coughs are proof of internal bleeding, while the pale, ashen face and dilating pupils show that she is having trouble remaining conscious. And if you are familiar with the unique shade of lilac-colored eyes that peer at her surroundings in confusion, then you probably have met one or more of her siblings, which happen to have arrived before her.
Cornelia is most certainly dreaming. At least, that is what she thinks as she struggles to push herself into a standing position on the stone steps. Her memories seem to come back in one, painful gasp. Her brother, Schneizel, watching her with empty, soulless eyes, the deafening sound of him snapping his fingers, and the way the world seemed to warp around her when the first bullet hit. And then the second. And then the third. Until she lost count and the only thing she could see was the two eyes still staring at her, unconcerned and apathetic as she lost her balance and fell forward. She was still looking for them even when the darkness enveloped her. Waiting for his expression to change. Waiting for the person she believed she knew to emerge from that unfamiliar gaze.
And she might have continued to believe that every part of it was just a terrible dream, except for the pain she feels is very real. Although the bullets don't seem to have hit any vital organs, the warm sticky substance escaping through her fingertips refuses to coagulate. She coughs again, spitting out more blood and falling back down even before she has completely stood up.
The dizzying swirl of earthy tones in front of her eyes causes her to blink as she raises a hand to her forehead, only to discover a twiggy knotted circular ornament on her head. A moment later, she tosses it down in disdain, as one might discard an unwanted gift, leaving the communicator where it still broadcasts on the steps. She settles for dragging herself down the stairs, ignoring the unpleasant, sweet scent invading her nostrils.
She doesn't recognize this place. This nightmare. She's become delusional. It feels like something she might have read in a storybook when she was a child. Not reality. Something foreign. Unfamiliar. And strangely terrifying for someone who hardly feels any sort of fear.
Her eyes begin to focus on a large, temple-like structure looming in front of her. By then, the hand trying to close up the wound slips away and she is feebly struggling for the gun-sword sheathed at her side. She knows that the world is beginning to fade around her again. That there has been too much blood loss and she will soon be accompanied by darkness again. But in her usual fashion, Cornelia looks like she is ready to defend herself until that moment.]
Cornelia is most certainly dreaming. At least, that is what she thinks as she struggles to push herself into a standing position on the stone steps. Her memories seem to come back in one, painful gasp. Her brother, Schneizel, watching her with empty, soulless eyes, the deafening sound of him snapping his fingers, and the way the world seemed to warp around her when the first bullet hit. And then the second. And then the third. Until she lost count and the only thing she could see was the two eyes still staring at her, unconcerned and apathetic as she lost her balance and fell forward. She was still looking for them even when the darkness enveloped her. Waiting for his expression to change. Waiting for the person she believed she knew to emerge from that unfamiliar gaze.
And she might have continued to believe that every part of it was just a terrible dream, except for the pain she feels is very real. Although the bullets don't seem to have hit any vital organs, the warm sticky substance escaping through her fingertips refuses to coagulate. She coughs again, spitting out more blood and falling back down even before she has completely stood up.
The dizzying swirl of earthy tones in front of her eyes causes her to blink as she raises a hand to her forehead, only to discover a twiggy knotted circular ornament on her head. A moment later, she tosses it down in disdain, as one might discard an unwanted gift, leaving the communicator where it still broadcasts on the steps. She settles for dragging herself down the stairs, ignoring the unpleasant, sweet scent invading her nostrils.
She doesn't recognize this place. This nightmare. She's become delusional. It feels like something she might have read in a storybook when she was a child. Not reality. Something foreign. Unfamiliar. And strangely terrifying for someone who hardly feels any sort of fear.
Her eyes begin to focus on a large, temple-like structure looming in front of her. By then, the hand trying to close up the wound slips away and she is feebly struggling for the gun-sword sheathed at her side. She knows that the world is beginning to fade around her again. That there has been too much blood loss and she will soon be accompanied by darkness again. But in her usual fashion, Cornelia looks like she is ready to defend herself until that moment.]