Mallorie balled het fist around the note, rivers of tears ran down her cheek. She felt this burning inside of her, it wasn't anything vital physically, but it hurt. She slid her back down on the wall, right beside her own bed, as she stared at the piece of paper, closing her eyes and opening them in hopes the writing would magically change itself. Mallorie didn't expect it to work, so the tears kept streaming, drenching the paper with the infernal writing it bore.
A surge of a different emotion settled upon her burning heart, it was anger. It was the fire of self hate. This fire, this void fire, it burnt like no other. She gritted her teeth and chucked the paper she clutched in her fist. To her discontent the paper failed to travel very far. Mallorie's anger burned hotter, she stood and swept her hand across her desk with much power behind the wrist, The papers on the desk flew in the air, papers with contracts, invitations for a wedding, and letters to old friends and family. Her ink well spilled on the floor, making a mess, as the quill gently fell with the rest of its slow falling brethren. Mallorie yelled aloud in her native D'Ithanian tongue, "Why is eveything I touch lost! My sister! My home! My friends! What next?! Just take my worthless life! I am no better than the filth in the void damned sewers!". Mallorie's face turned beet red, as the tears from her eyes kept streaming. Her gaze glared to the knife that rested on her night stand. She reached for it, ready to plummet it into her breast. She raised it up as her hands trembled. She took a long pause, as her mind went through many thoughts. Mallorie remembered why she didn't plummet the knife into herslelf by now. She remembered there were people who still needed her, her family, they needed someone responsible to make the decisions, run the trade. There was people relying on her. Her hands trembled as the knife was inches away from entering her breast, her eyes slammed shut, the tears growing more vicious in their streaming. She took the knife in one hand as she carved it into her hand, yelling out in pain as she threw the blade to the ground, clenching her now injured hand tightly, in hopes blood wouldn't spill more than her body held. She stumbled around as her abled hand looked for a bandage, a cloth at the least. She found the supply of mending tools, as she took the bandages and wrapped it around her palm, the blood seeping through the bandage.
Mallorie trembled, standing in the hall of her empty house, looking around, realizing just how lonely she was. She twitched, and started laughing, the crying, anger, and pain caught up with her sanity. She spoke to herself, "I'm destined to be alone... A pawn to whoever seeks my power, and exploit it for their own benefit?! I let this happen?" She laughed for a few moments, thinking to herself once again, "Maybe fate leads me to be a pawn, an ideal to the objective, but worthless once achieved... I'll play along... I'll be tossed away and maybe than I can live freely... No one really cares for me, who's to say anyone'll miss me?" She laughed helplessly as the tears resumed their fall. She stumbled onto her bed, and let her pillow absorb her sorrows. Eventually her tears drifted her to sleep, the pain in her scared palm was eased by thought, bloching any signs of pain. The blood that seaped through made three lines, reminiscent of the cut Mallorie made. The night swepy her away, the next morning, she decided none of this happened, she didn't want it to happen, but it already did. She knew this would come to haunt her, every night, as long as she is alive.
A surge of a different emotion settled upon her burning heart, it was anger. It was the fire of self hate. This fire, this void fire, it burnt like no other. She gritted her teeth and chucked the paper she clutched in her fist. To her discontent the paper failed to travel very far. Mallorie's anger burned hotter, she stood and swept her hand across her desk with much power behind the wrist, The papers on the desk flew in the air, papers with contracts, invitations for a wedding, and letters to old friends and family. Her ink well spilled on the floor, making a mess, as the quill gently fell with the rest of its slow falling brethren. Mallorie yelled aloud in her native D'Ithanian tongue, "Why is eveything I touch lost! My sister! My home! My friends! What next?! Just take my worthless life! I am no better than the filth in the void damned sewers!". Mallorie's face turned beet red, as the tears from her eyes kept streaming. Her gaze glared to the knife that rested on her night stand. She reached for it, ready to plummet it into her breast. She raised it up as her hands trembled. She took a long pause, as her mind went through many thoughts. Mallorie remembered why she didn't plummet the knife into herslelf by now. She remembered there were people who still needed her, her family, they needed someone responsible to make the decisions, run the trade. There was people relying on her. Her hands trembled as the knife was inches away from entering her breast, her eyes slammed shut, the tears growing more vicious in their streaming. She took the knife in one hand as she carved it into her hand, yelling out in pain as she threw the blade to the ground, clenching her now injured hand tightly, in hopes blood wouldn't spill more than her body held. She stumbled around as her abled hand looked for a bandage, a cloth at the least. She found the supply of mending tools, as she took the bandages and wrapped it around her palm, the blood seeping through the bandage.
Mallorie trembled, standing in the hall of her empty house, looking around, realizing just how lonely she was. She twitched, and started laughing, the crying, anger, and pain caught up with her sanity. She spoke to herself, "I'm destined to be alone... A pawn to whoever seeks my power, and exploit it for their own benefit?! I let this happen?" She laughed for a few moments, thinking to herself once again, "Maybe fate leads me to be a pawn, an ideal to the objective, but worthless once achieved... I'll play along... I'll be tossed away and maybe than I can live freely... No one really cares for me, who's to say anyone'll miss me?" She laughed helplessly as the tears resumed their fall. She stumbled onto her bed, and let her pillow absorb her sorrows. Eventually her tears drifted her to sleep, the pain in her scared palm was eased by thought, bloching any signs of pain. The blood that seaped through made three lines, reminiscent of the cut Mallorie made. The night swepy her away, the next morning, she decided none of this happened, she didn't want it to happen, but it already did. She knew this would come to haunt her, every night, as long as she is alive.
@SpamanoTomato @LyonTheBrave @Streako @Zytus
After due recent events, I don't know why, but I saw it fit to right a lore story. I don't know why I found it relevent, but I wanted to write a story, so here it is... it seems a bit dark, and maybe violent (probably going to get banned for this... I'll write the appeal as soon as it comes.), but this had no ill intention to promote suicide and the like... trust me I'm mordified, and I wrote it..
After due recent events, I don't know why, but I saw it fit to right a lore story. I don't know why I found it relevent, but I wanted to write a story, so here it is... it seems a bit dark, and maybe violent (probably going to get banned for this... I'll write the appeal as soon as it comes.), but this had no ill intention to promote suicide and the like... trust me I'm mordified, and I wrote it..
