ext_158887 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2009-01-28 01:38 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-01-28 01:38 pm
[Jan. 28][Tales of Legendia] Devastation
Title: Devastation
Day/Theme: Jan. 28, 2009 "casually smashed to pieces"
Series: Tales of Legendia
Character/Pairing: Thyra
Rating: PG-13
The village was all but gone. Thyra had felt a chill run down her spine as she caught sight of blackened wood from between the trees, but she had pressed the worries aside and continued over the hill at a quick pace. She had reasoned at first that there could've been a fire that destroyed a few houses, but this was clearly a planned malicious attack on the village by an outside force. She poked a rusted piece of metal with her toe. It looked like it might have been a gardening trowel. The debris of the town was scattered everywhere, broken and battered. There were bodies half-buried in a trench nearby.
Thyra took a step back, her lips trembling until she managed to close her mouth. Wh-why had this happened? How could it be real? Was it possible that she had been the only one to survive?
"Mother...Father...Fenimore..." she whimpered, swallowing and gathering her nerve to move forward into the wreckage. Did she really want to look at the bodies carefully enough to identify all her friends and loved ones? The smell of charred flesh and the sight of dried blood on white skin, along with flies darting in and out of torn clothes was enough to turn her stomach. She tried not to think about it too hard, to deny that these had ever been her living, breathing clansmen. ...But there was a hand. A familiar hand, with a scar on the palm...where William had grabbed onto a saw in the past. Felques! William! At first she tried to turn away, but after just a moment, the eerie magnetism of the sight became too strong and her bewildered gaze returned to the open palm, the skin nearly translucent, revealing the cold veins below.
He was dead. Without Thyra having ever decided whether or not they would spend the rest of their lives together.
Eventually, this morbid fascination faded and Thyra moved away from William's corpse, appraising the other sights along the way as she walked.
Either all the bodies of the young women were somewhere else, or they had been captured, not killed. Fenimore could still be alive. After witnessing such devastation, it was hard to keep her heart from leaping. No matter how bad things were, ultimately Thyra always had hope. She would not rest in her search for her sister until that hope was confirmed or killed.
Day/Theme: Jan. 28, 2009 "casually smashed to pieces"
Series: Tales of Legendia
Character/Pairing: Thyra
Rating: PG-13
The village was all but gone. Thyra had felt a chill run down her spine as she caught sight of blackened wood from between the trees, but she had pressed the worries aside and continued over the hill at a quick pace. She had reasoned at first that there could've been a fire that destroyed a few houses, but this was clearly a planned malicious attack on the village by an outside force. She poked a rusted piece of metal with her toe. It looked like it might have been a gardening trowel. The debris of the town was scattered everywhere, broken and battered. There were bodies half-buried in a trench nearby.
Thyra took a step back, her lips trembling until she managed to close her mouth. Wh-why had this happened? How could it be real? Was it possible that she had been the only one to survive?
"Mother...Father...Fenimore..." she whimpered, swallowing and gathering her nerve to move forward into the wreckage. Did she really want to look at the bodies carefully enough to identify all her friends and loved ones? The smell of charred flesh and the sight of dried blood on white skin, along with flies darting in and out of torn clothes was enough to turn her stomach. She tried not to think about it too hard, to deny that these had ever been her living, breathing clansmen. ...But there was a hand. A familiar hand, with a scar on the palm...where William had grabbed onto a saw in the past. Felques! William! At first she tried to turn away, but after just a moment, the eerie magnetism of the sight became too strong and her bewildered gaze returned to the open palm, the skin nearly translucent, revealing the cold veins below.
He was dead. Without Thyra having ever decided whether or not they would spend the rest of their lives together.
Eventually, this morbid fascination faded and Thyra moved away from William's corpse, appraising the other sights along the way as she walked.
Either all the bodies of the young women were somewhere else, or they had been captured, not killed. Fenimore could still be alive. After witnessing such devastation, it was hard to keep her heart from leaping. No matter how bad things were, ultimately Thyra always had hope. She would not rest in her search for her sister until that hope was confirmed or killed.