Perhaps it all lie in her physical appearance- if that was even applicable.Īll but to kick the war in her head back underneath the shadows, she chooses a suit for the next occasion, with Elia’s groaning in the background, as Esen preens herself proudly in the ability to twist Elia’s arm and in trying to see Elise happy from the trauma. She is not a woman who sharpens her words for battle, nor is she one who can feel comfortable trying to woo someone else. If it does, she never felt it attributed to herself. The night ends with the sound of her fury, ‘ere long before the curtain falls. Reclaim– abstract– the darkness, the shadows, the ink of blackest night. Oh, she’ll sate their envy and pride with steel and fire, then. Never at Esen, of course, nor her true family, but to the pretenders that shepherded only her existence and nothing else. A rage unending, fully brought to bare, without darkness.
That day, Esen could see the fury to which Elise exploded training dummies into splinters. Oh, but the echoes reminded her of what was left. A challenge, and a test of resilience, even if she knows in her mind it is a shame that people must prove to be so resilient– not a mark of pride.Įchoes in her mind, left from what was once a potent darkness that she commanded. Her first steps in armor and weapons, ever since she escaped. She will rend every last foe in her path until she reclaims her aether, until she is awakened. She’ll slay until she is soaked in blood and sin. She once asked, what she did with these dexterous hands? The answer was given, and she’ll give it again. She grips the gunblade in her hand, and weighs the art in her mind. Everything felt that much more taxing, but that would not stop her.
It is a risk, if you want to keep her alive, but I don’t see why you would, she wants nothing but to kill us both.
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