Rachel ♥ 001
Who: Rachel and anyone!
Where: Espoir
Style: Your choice.
Status: Open like a door. That isn't closed.
I wonder if--
The thought trailed off into nothingness, as Rachel opened her eyes. She blinked. That was wrong, she knew it, she had died-died for the sake of killing Tom, stopping the Blade Ship, and it had been nice of the Ellimist to recognize the sacrifice-not just of her life, but of her ability to live a life beyond the screaming high-stakes of a blood-soaked life-or-death struggle-but she was dead, didn’t like the fact, and teasing her like this, with the sight of a lushly green, quaint village underneath a floating castle was sick and cruel.
Which meant it was probably not the Ellimist doing this, Rachel thought grimly. The Ellimist at least had the grace to be sorry, even if he’d tied his own hands and brought it on himself.
“Crayak?” she called. “Drode? Just let me die in peace, okay? Your stupid slugs lost and I’m not going to be your consolation prize! So let me go, okay?! Make it stop! End it!”
It wasn’t exactly a bright idea, she understood, to scream at a cosmic being capable of warping the fabric of space and time to just let you quietly fade out of existence like a good girl. She knew that, knew Crayak would love a little vengeance on her, for being Jake’s cousin and accomplice in his many screw-yous, for rejecting him outright, for helping facilitate this one little loss in his grand scheme of things.
Knew she couldn’t rip his heart out of his ribcage (extra-careful-certain to break a few of those selfsame ribs on the way out), knew she couldn’t even try, but the longer her death was withheld from her, the harder it would be to face. She’d accepted it, accepted it the minute Jake told her to do it, would have done it on her own if he hadn’t taken that initiative, but the honest truth was that she was sixteen years old and the vast expanse of the next sixty or seventy years would have been another adventure to jump right into, and yes, she had regrets, but she didn’t want her last fight to be one of them.
If they’d just let her rest in peace already, it wouldn’t be an issue, who knows the difference when they’re dead? And anyway-
“Why haven’t you answered?” Rachel demanded, shouting. As if being louder would really help me with these guys. “What are you trying to show me?”
The silence was creeping her out, and she looked at the floating castle again. The Drode would not miss an opportunity to mock her, not like this, and not while there was nothing she could do.
Not like there was anyway, but the fact remained.
So. Was this place real? Was that village? Was there something beyond a youthful death waiting for her?
Rachel almost couldn’t help the grin. Maybe she should have been mourning her own death, yeah, but finding out came first, and she went forward.
The cell phone sitting right next to her? Well, she'd take that, too.
Where: Espoir
Style: Your choice.
Status: Open like a door. That isn't closed.
I wonder if--
The thought trailed off into nothingness, as Rachel opened her eyes. She blinked. That was wrong, she knew it, she had died-died for the sake of killing Tom, stopping the Blade Ship, and it had been nice of the Ellimist to recognize the sacrifice-not just of her life, but of her ability to live a life beyond the screaming high-stakes of a blood-soaked life-or-death struggle-but she was dead, didn’t like the fact, and teasing her like this, with the sight of a lushly green, quaint village underneath a floating castle was sick and cruel.
Which meant it was probably not the Ellimist doing this, Rachel thought grimly. The Ellimist at least had the grace to be sorry, even if he’d tied his own hands and brought it on himself.
“Crayak?” she called. “Drode? Just let me die in peace, okay? Your stupid slugs lost and I’m not going to be your consolation prize! So let me go, okay?! Make it stop! End it!”
It wasn’t exactly a bright idea, she understood, to scream at a cosmic being capable of warping the fabric of space and time to just let you quietly fade out of existence like a good girl. She knew that, knew Crayak would love a little vengeance on her, for being Jake’s cousin and accomplice in his many screw-yous, for rejecting him outright, for helping facilitate this one little loss in his grand scheme of things.
Knew she couldn’t rip his heart out of his ribcage (extra-careful-certain to break a few of those selfsame ribs on the way out), knew she couldn’t even try, but the longer her death was withheld from her, the harder it would be to face. She’d accepted it, accepted it the minute Jake told her to do it, would have done it on her own if he hadn’t taken that initiative, but the honest truth was that she was sixteen years old and the vast expanse of the next sixty or seventy years would have been another adventure to jump right into, and yes, she had regrets, but she didn’t want her last fight to be one of them.
If they’d just let her rest in peace already, it wouldn’t be an issue, who knows the difference when they’re dead? And anyway-
“Why haven’t you answered?” Rachel demanded, shouting. As if being louder would really help me with these guys. “What are you trying to show me?”
The silence was creeping her out, and she looked at the floating castle again. The Drode would not miss an opportunity to mock her, not like this, and not while there was nothing she could do.
Not like there was anyway, but the fact remained.
So. Was this place real? Was that village? Was there something beyond a youthful death waiting for her?
Rachel almost couldn’t help the grin. Maybe she should have been mourning her own death, yeah, but finding out came first, and she went forward.
The cell phone sitting right next to her? Well, she'd take that, too.