Any time tomorrow, a part of me will die [closed, complete]
WHO: Riful rifulofthewest
WHAT: Getting reacquainted with an old friend
WHERE: Deep within the jungle
WHEN: End of the child curse, dusk
She'd been searching the entire day for her sword, and seemed to be making no leeway. Riful frowned and sat down underneath the shade of a tree with leaves that seemed to be twice her own size. The strange, soft toys continued to fall from the sky like rain, and the young Claymore caught one, smiling at it. Maybe her new friend, Clare, would like it. Or one of the boys who'd offered to help her find her sword. She'd felt so sorry for Clare, especially. She'd been crying, and Riful knew what it was like, being afraid. She was afraid all the time, even if she was number one, and even though they said she was the best, and the bravest and strongest. She was...afraid.
everyone's afraid sometimes
That was true, everyone was afraid, but...what was bothering her was the Awakened Being running around. She'd sensed his yoki, but she hadn't been sure until he'd revealed himself. There were at least two other warriors here; one was very strong. Why hadn't the Awakened Being been dealt with?
Or maybe they'd been waiting for her, and she couldn't even find her sword...
You were so useless
Riful turned, suddenly, glancing around nervously. Was that a voice she'd just heard? She felt so odd without her sword, so
useless
and what good would she be against an Awakened Being without it?
you could use your hands, the voice cooed. It was a spiderweb-thin whisper, almost like an afterthought, and Riful found herself answering it as she climbed over rocks and crossed shallow streams.
"I could, but wouldn't that be--"
messy?
"Right. It'd be terribly messy, and difficult besides." That was odd. She had a headache, a dull, steady throb against her right temple. When was the last time she'd had a headache, of all things? "It'd be better if I found my sword..."
you won't find it i'm sorry terribly terribly sorry but you won't
Riful stumbled over a rock and braced herself on her hands as she fell, wincing. Clumsy...
it's time to wake up
The sun dipped down in the distance, and the sky painted itself sunset colors--rich red and soft blue. It was so nice, that the headache, which had grown steadily worse, seemed to ebb for a moment into something more manageable. This place didn't seem so bad
wake up
and she'd already met such kind people. They didn't seem frightened to speak to her either; perhaps they were used to her kind? Riful hopped up to catch another one of the falling toys, a strange-looking creature with a snout like a hose and big, floppy ears. She'd give this one to Clare, because it was the best one she'd found: polka-dotted, with friendly, shiny glass eyes. The mice she'd give to the boys: Edward and...
"Tamaki!" She sounded out the word carefully. It was a name she'd never heard before. Perhaps Mister Arlecchino would like a toy too...
Wake up. The voice was insistent now, dragging into a whine. It's time for you to go. I don't like this memory. I don't like you.
The headache was terrible now, and Riful's vision blurred with pain. Her yoki. What was wrong with it? Why was it acting this--
at ten percent, the eyes change color
way? Why couldn't she get it to stop? She remembered the lessons she'd been taught: deep breaths, calm yourself. Talk yourself down. "It's as if treating yourself like a suicide case, for a moment," one of the older soldiers told her once. Riful took one gasping, pained breath, then another, but it wasn't working, the yoki was at
forty percent, when the body changes
and she couldn't stop the sudden swell of energy, no matter how much she pleaded, how much she begged, "Stop, stop it STOP IT TURN BACK TURN BACK TURN BACK!"
eighty percent is the point of no return
you're already at seventy-five, the voice said, and Riful realized it was her voice now, And it really would be best if you just stopped fighting and gave up, just like before. So please, if you would be so kind as to re-Awaken, we could get back to work.
Riful screamed, she screamed so loudly that it echoed from the treetops, that birds took flight from the sound of it. He'd been right. That bastard of an Awakened Being, that son of a bitch Isley had been right and she was Awakening, she didn't have a black card and no one could save her, she was Awakening and she couldn't stop it no matter how much she tried. This was what she became?
Youngest soldier in the history of the Organization(she was only twelve years old and she didn't deserve this, why did they make her into this?) and the youngest to reach that pinnacle of power. Youngest to become number one, and this was what happened? She'd killed monsters ten times her size and led missions, she'd saved people, and this was what she ended up as? A discarded monster, the very beast she'd fought her hardest to stop from taking over? A failure?
We are not a failure, the other voice said, and it was much louder now, and amused. Really, those girls, us, we were all in denial. All of them are in denial. The moment they put the yoma flesh in you, you ceased being human and became something else. What does it matter, if your mind stays human?
Riful protested weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice shifting from adult to child as she spoke, monster to human. "It's the ONLY thing that maKES us US and them THEM. It's all that...matters....why? Why did you give UP WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?"
And the voice answered, and it was something she'd never tell anyone but herself.
I was tired.
The explosion tore through the jungle, clearing away trees and brush like paperweights. Anything in the immediate area was completely decimated. This was the power of an Awakened number one. One worthy of the title of Abyssal One. The dust cleared, and in its place was a girl with brown hair and eyes that glittered green-gold in the dying light of the sun. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, and she impatiently wiped them away with the back of her hand. She sniffled, her voice thick with held-back sobs.
"There. That was annoying."
What did it matter, that she'd given up? It didn't make much of a difference now anyway, did it?
As she walked away, she reached back down to hold the toy elephant, tilted her head to regard it, then threw it over her shoulder. She didn't need it anymore.
Right?
WHAT: Getting reacquainted with an old friend
WHERE: Deep within the jungle
WHEN: End of the child curse, dusk
She'd been searching the entire day for her sword, and seemed to be making no leeway. Riful frowned and sat down underneath the shade of a tree with leaves that seemed to be twice her own size. The strange, soft toys continued to fall from the sky like rain, and the young Claymore caught one, smiling at it. Maybe her new friend, Clare, would like it. Or one of the boys who'd offered to help her find her sword. She'd felt so sorry for Clare, especially. She'd been crying, and Riful knew what it was like, being afraid. She was afraid all the time, even if she was number one, and even though they said she was the best, and the bravest and strongest. She was...afraid.
everyone's afraid sometimes
That was true, everyone was afraid, but...what was bothering her was the Awakened Being running around. She'd sensed his yoki, but she hadn't been sure until he'd revealed himself. There were at least two other warriors here; one was very strong. Why hadn't the Awakened Being been dealt with?
Or maybe they'd been waiting for her, and she couldn't even find her sword...
You were so useless
Riful turned, suddenly, glancing around nervously. Was that a voice she'd just heard? She felt so odd without her sword, so
useless
and what good would she be against an Awakened Being without it?
you could use your hands, the voice cooed. It was a spiderweb-thin whisper, almost like an afterthought, and Riful found herself answering it as she climbed over rocks and crossed shallow streams.
"I could, but wouldn't that be--"
messy?
"Right. It'd be terribly messy, and difficult besides." That was odd. She had a headache, a dull, steady throb against her right temple. When was the last time she'd had a headache, of all things? "It'd be better if I found my sword..."
you won't find it i'm sorry terribly terribly sorry but you won't
Riful stumbled over a rock and braced herself on her hands as she fell, wincing. Clumsy...
it's time to wake up
The sun dipped down in the distance, and the sky painted itself sunset colors--rich red and soft blue. It was so nice, that the headache, which had grown steadily worse, seemed to ebb for a moment into something more manageable. This place didn't seem so bad
wake up
and she'd already met such kind people. They didn't seem frightened to speak to her either; perhaps they were used to her kind? Riful hopped up to catch another one of the falling toys, a strange-looking creature with a snout like a hose and big, floppy ears. She'd give this one to Clare, because it was the best one she'd found: polka-dotted, with friendly, shiny glass eyes. The mice she'd give to the boys: Edward and...
"Tamaki!" She sounded out the word carefully. It was a name she'd never heard before. Perhaps Mister Arlecchino would like a toy too...
Wake up. The voice was insistent now, dragging into a whine. It's time for you to go. I don't like this memory. I don't like you.
The headache was terrible now, and Riful's vision blurred with pain. Her yoki. What was wrong with it? Why was it acting this--
at ten percent, the eyes change color
way? Why couldn't she get it to stop? She remembered the lessons she'd been taught: deep breaths, calm yourself. Talk yourself down. "It's as if treating yourself like a suicide case, for a moment," one of the older soldiers told her once. Riful took one gasping, pained breath, then another, but it wasn't working, the yoki was at
forty percent, when the body changes
and she couldn't stop the sudden swell of energy, no matter how much she pleaded, how much she begged, "Stop, stop it STOP IT TURN BACK TURN BACK TURN BACK!"
eighty percent is the point of no return
you're already at seventy-five, the voice said, and Riful realized it was her voice now, And it really would be best if you just stopped fighting and gave up, just like before. So please, if you would be so kind as to re-Awaken, we could get back to work.
Riful screamed, she screamed so loudly that it echoed from the treetops, that birds took flight from the sound of it. He'd been right. That bastard of an Awakened Being, that son of a bitch Isley had been right and she was Awakening, she didn't have a black card and no one could save her, she was Awakening and she couldn't stop it no matter how much she tried. This was what she became?
Youngest soldier in the history of the Organization(she was only twelve years old and she didn't deserve this, why did they make her into this?) and the youngest to reach that pinnacle of power. Youngest to become number one, and this was what happened? She'd killed monsters ten times her size and led missions, she'd saved people, and this was what she ended up as? A discarded monster, the very beast she'd fought her hardest to stop from taking over? A failure?
We are not a failure, the other voice said, and it was much louder now, and amused. Really, those girls, us, we were all in denial. All of them are in denial. The moment they put the yoma flesh in you, you ceased being human and became something else. What does it matter, if your mind stays human?
Riful protested weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice shifting from adult to child as she spoke, monster to human. "It's the ONLY thing that maKES us US and them THEM. It's all that...matters....why? Why did you give UP WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?"
And the voice answered, and it was something she'd never tell anyone but herself.
I was tired.
The explosion tore through the jungle, clearing away trees and brush like paperweights. Anything in the immediate area was completely decimated. This was the power of an Awakened number one. One worthy of the title of Abyssal One. The dust cleared, and in its place was a girl with brown hair and eyes that glittered green-gold in the dying light of the sun. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, and she impatiently wiped them away with the back of her hand. She sniffled, her voice thick with held-back sobs.
"There. That was annoying."
What did it matter, that she'd given up? It didn't make much of a difference now anyway, did it?
As she walked away, she reached back down to hold the toy elephant, tilted her head to regard it, then threw it over her shoulder. She didn't need it anymore.
Right?