Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Another Scribble

A warrior, young in body but old in soul, stares out the balcony. The festive flags dance in the wind, but somehow doesn't seem to touch her: her braided hair remains at her back, her lose robes move not an inch. She bows her head, offering a prayer... and the people she lives among would be shocked to find whom she offered that prayer to.

The youth races up the stairs, and collapses at her feet. After taking his breath back, he exclaims "Blessed one, do not do this! You shall surely die!"

Not bothering to look back at him, she instead addresses her words to the sky. "Indeed, that is the plan..."

"We still need you!" the anguished boy cried, the perceived betrayal stabbing his heart. Overwhelmed with loss, he dives off the balcony, intending to die on the sharp rocks far below. His plan is foiled, for a great gust lifts him back up and deposits him on the balcony near the stairwell, away from the warrior. Her voice full of reproach, she replies calmly "Your people shall find another one to worship, and I grow weary, more than you can ever know. Even the gods deserve death. Now, leave me".

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