* * *
S I J N
- - -
I m p r i s o n m e n t
- - -
"Most people spend their entire life imprisoned within the confines of their own thoughts. They never go beyond a narrow, mind-made, personalized sense of self that is conditioned by the past."
- Eckhart Tolle
* * *
The girl stirred on the board she laid across within the belly of the Bastion, her hair briefly stuck to the wood from the blood that had been seeping constantly from the crack to her skull, though she noted that her head had been wrapped in her rather delirious state of being. Her eyes scraped across the interior of the harshly grey cell she sat in, attention soon falling on the blurry figure of her best friend, Taliandra, who remained chained to the wall as she'd been whenever darkness had blindfolded the wounded Qadir on the makeshift bed. The other girl, who's wrists were no doubt raw from the metal around the much like the wrists of the half dead, lying girl, Azra, was standing rather awkwardly against the wall and leaning back against it. Her eyes were drooped close and Azra couldn't tell if she were unconscious or just resting her eyes in a literal sense.
Azra's shackled hands rose to her face to rub at her eyes in a lackluster attempt of waking herself up. The tactic didn't work, of course, so instead she remained stuck there, eyes blurred to her, barely comprehensible, annoyance. Faintly, the girl sniffed the air and shut her eyes to the smell that met her, the lingering odor of burnt flesh - who's, she couldn't guess, but there was a small wish that it were simply one of the irrelevant Ash-skins that had tagged along in the adventure.
The adventure. What a stupid name for her stupid actions, that was all Azra could get through her mind in that moment, all she could focus on. How stupid was she? Extremely, she concluded after a nasty cough that lead her to slowly and painful lean towards the edge of the bed to spit onto the floor. Taliandra stirred a moment and Azra came to a second conclusion that she must be asleep- or at least so out of touch with the world at the
moment that she was just as helpful as a sleeping person. She settled back down to lie flatly on the drying blood beneath, giving a sigh that croaked out before it finished from the dry nature of her throat- feeling as if she'd really decided to eat sand again like when she was a child of seven within the deserts of Farah'deen: the desert of Eazim, where she truly hailed from. As she thought of that desert, she imagined the family she'd left there- dead or to die, though none of their blood on her hands, she liked to believe.
She wondered briefly, not in a state of grief, but in a state of wonderment and, perhaps, even excitement on whether she'd see that family again when she eventually was put to death with the executed person who's singed skin stunk the air. She considered the details as best she could in the fog of injury and years since seeing her kin: would Gul, her twin sister, appear still eight or would she be eighteen along with Azra? Would Zaki, her adoptive grandfather, still hold his wonderous stories if Regalia from Before, when he was a man, not an elder, and traveled to Regalia for fortune which he almost tasted?
Would her mother, who was more than likely either dead or more a mother to sisters and brothers Azra would never know, tell her… "I told you so"? The internal question threw itself in the way of the cogs in her mind, interrupting the whole process with its nagging existence that, no matter the whirling pressure placed against it, didn't budge even an inch. Her mother had always warned her that if you'd sunk low enough to come to Regalia, there was nothing left of Farah'deen in you- though Azra liked to believe her heart still remained in the sands at home. But instead, she tried to remember home, what she considered that one a first note- clearly not the Eazim, which, while she claimed she was from it, no longer seemed the place she wished to remain.
Home was the place where she found her friends, parental figures, and the boy she found kept her heart despite making her consistently lose her mind. It was that thought that brought a tinge of sadness to her colorful angry and coolly shaded acceptance. It was that that made her realize she had something that needed her, really truly.
And suddenly, she didn't want to die: she didn't want to join the Souls of the afterlife just yet, no matter what. The grips of the deserts seemed to loose slightly at that realization, her eyes squeezing close as she released another sigh. Except, there were no way for her to change things now. She could only hope mercy would be blessed on her- or that the fire took her quickly.
* * *
{Eiqab} {Huriya}
* * *
@Katiesc @Sebbysc
S I J N
- - -
I m p r i s o n m e n t
- - -
"Most people spend their entire life imprisoned within the confines of their own thoughts. They never go beyond a narrow, mind-made, personalized sense of self that is conditioned by the past."
- Eckhart Tolle
* * *
The girl stirred on the board she laid across within the belly of the Bastion, her hair briefly stuck to the wood from the blood that had been seeping constantly from the crack to her skull, though she noted that her head had been wrapped in her rather delirious state of being. Her eyes scraped across the interior of the harshly grey cell she sat in, attention soon falling on the blurry figure of her best friend, Taliandra, who remained chained to the wall as she'd been whenever darkness had blindfolded the wounded Qadir on the makeshift bed. The other girl, who's wrists were no doubt raw from the metal around the much like the wrists of the half dead, lying girl, Azra, was standing rather awkwardly against the wall and leaning back against it. Her eyes were drooped close and Azra couldn't tell if she were unconscious or just resting her eyes in a literal sense.
Azra's shackled hands rose to her face to rub at her eyes in a lackluster attempt of waking herself up. The tactic didn't work, of course, so instead she remained stuck there, eyes blurred to her, barely comprehensible, annoyance. Faintly, the girl sniffed the air and shut her eyes to the smell that met her, the lingering odor of burnt flesh - who's, she couldn't guess, but there was a small wish that it were simply one of the irrelevant Ash-skins that had tagged along in the adventure.
The adventure. What a stupid name for her stupid actions, that was all Azra could get through her mind in that moment, all she could focus on. How stupid was she? Extremely, she concluded after a nasty cough that lead her to slowly and painful lean towards the edge of the bed to spit onto the floor. Taliandra stirred a moment and Azra came to a second conclusion that she must be asleep- or at least so out of touch with the world at the
moment that she was just as helpful as a sleeping person. She settled back down to lie flatly on the drying blood beneath, giving a sigh that croaked out before it finished from the dry nature of her throat- feeling as if she'd really decided to eat sand again like when she was a child of seven within the deserts of Farah'deen: the desert of Eazim, where she truly hailed from. As she thought of that desert, she imagined the family she'd left there- dead or to die, though none of their blood on her hands, she liked to believe.
She wondered briefly, not in a state of grief, but in a state of wonderment and, perhaps, even excitement on whether she'd see that family again when she eventually was put to death with the executed person who's singed skin stunk the air. She considered the details as best she could in the fog of injury and years since seeing her kin: would Gul, her twin sister, appear still eight or would she be eighteen along with Azra? Would Zaki, her adoptive grandfather, still hold his wonderous stories if Regalia from Before, when he was a man, not an elder, and traveled to Regalia for fortune which he almost tasted?
Would her mother, who was more than likely either dead or more a mother to sisters and brothers Azra would never know, tell her… "I told you so"? The internal question threw itself in the way of the cogs in her mind, interrupting the whole process with its nagging existence that, no matter the whirling pressure placed against it, didn't budge even an inch. Her mother had always warned her that if you'd sunk low enough to come to Regalia, there was nothing left of Farah'deen in you- though Azra liked to believe her heart still remained in the sands at home. But instead, she tried to remember home, what she considered that one a first note- clearly not the Eazim, which, while she claimed she was from it, no longer seemed the place she wished to remain.
Home was the place where she found her friends, parental figures, and the boy she found kept her heart despite making her consistently lose her mind. It was that thought that brought a tinge of sadness to her colorful angry and coolly shaded acceptance. It was that that made her realize she had something that needed her, really truly.
And suddenly, she didn't want to die: she didn't want to join the Souls of the afterlife just yet, no matter what. The grips of the deserts seemed to loose slightly at that realization, her eyes squeezing close as she released another sigh. Except, there were no way for her to change things now. She could only hope mercy would be blessed on her- or that the fire took her quickly.
* * *
{Eiqab} {Huriya}
* * *
@Katiesc @Sebbysc
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