Transcendence
Guilt
Pathetic beings to ever roam this land. With the heel of her foot she stomped on the last of their heads, causing a sickening crunch. Pink and red spilled all over the already blood-soaked wooden floor. “It is all over my shoe!” Sonia shrieked to no one, and kicked the remains of a severed head. It was not entirely her fault; she had only been defending herself. She despised humans, but she despised human men even more. She happened to find a few silver coins by the river where she went fishing, and thought of buying herself a real meal. The river led her to a small town outside the walls of the kingdom of Bridgetta, where she found an inn that served food and drink. However, as soon as she walked into the male dominant tavern, the men swarmed to her. The nerve! Eventually, one tried to touch her backside and she took a customer’s wooden cup and swung it to his face, knocking him unconscious. The men around her became angry, shouting insults like, “vile woman,” and “little bitch,” making her even more angrier and so, she rampaged - without using her powers of course. Also, she made sure her cloak covered that fiery hair of hers.
Finally, she sat down on one of the tables and wiped away a splatter of blood with her cloak. She waited patiently for the server to attend to her. The old man calmly went over, making sure not to step on any blood pools or bodies, and though she did not ask for anything yet, he set down a plate of rice, nicely smelling beef, and a small cup of tea. “I do not want any trouble, young slayer. Please enjoy your meal.”
She almost stood up, offended. Had he called me a Slayer? Did he just call her the one thing she hated most in this world, a slayer? She grasped the wooden cup tightly, her hand shaking uncontrollably. However, she soon calmed down, thinking rationally, as her sister would do. If she had persisted that she was most definitely not a slayer, then she would not get this free meal, nor would she be feared by the remaining men in the tavern. She simply took a bite of the warm, fresh food, her stomach growling even as she ate it.
“Dearon my boy, clean this up, burn the bodies out back,” he whispered, “and call your sister to help.” Slayers who murdered their fellow humans were not questioned, no one dared to stand up against them. The old man waved the boy away, but the boy wouldn’t move. The remaining customers ran out in alarm, and the old man locked the doors after them. He drew the shades, implying that the tavern was closed. Sonia became irritated; she felt the boy’s glare even though her back was to him.
“You damn slayers think you can do whatever you want!” Sonia choked on her tea, startled by the sudden outburst behind her. She slammed her cup down, swiveling her body to face this courageous person. Who in the heavens does he think he is talking to? Hm, that is right...he does not realize he is speaking to an immortal, but rather a slayer. Even so, why does this mortal boy defy who he thinks to be a slayer? She looked the boy up and down critically. He was no older than she was, very lanky, and look at that - he had a mop of red hair of his own, but unlike Sonia’s it was warmer, more brown, like his eyes. He wore what the old man wore: brown tattered rags that were too small on a tall boy like him. The poor old man was begging him to calm down, to cause trouble. She wasn’t going to waste her time on this poor boy.
“Silence that mouth of yours, peasant boy.” That was all she said and turned around, continuing to eat her food. She was tired, and felt some sympathy for the old man. Best not to cause any more trouble. She was even willing to leave the two silver coins instead of eating the meal for free. Serenity would do the same, after all. Her mouth salivated with every bite and the tea was not too hot, making it easy to gulp down. It was sweet, and tasted like honey. The blissfulness did not last. The tavern reeked of blood, and it was uncomfortable as the man began dragging bodies across the floor, as his son, or grandson, refused to help. Soon after that unpleasant dragging sound came to a halt, she still rolled her eyes as footsteps stormed towards her. Then, a hand slammed down on the table, right beside her food.
“Dearon my boy, stop this nonsense now!” The old man shouted.
“No papam!” He said to his elder, turning back to Sonia, his breath hot on her neck as he leaned over from behind her. “Leave this tavern, you are not welcomed here, you murderer!”
“Why you-” Sonia started to growl, yet was rudely interrupted as he stepped closer in front of her, faced her squarely, and grabbed her by the collar of her cloak, lifting her off the ground slightly. Her hood fell to her shoulders, exposing her passionate hair.
“You slayers are nothing but trouble-” He stared for a moment, distracted by her face, her eyes, that hair. His eyes were narrowed in anger, then, they widened in recognition. He was still holding her in his grasp, holding her so high, that he was looking up at her. He felt the unusual hot breath from Sonia’s heavy breathing, and saw her eyes slowly furrow in anger.
She wrapped her pale hand around his wrist, hissing, “Get your filthy hands off of me, I am no slayer you fool.” Scorching heat diffused from her hand onto his wrist and he cried out, letting her go. He bit his lip from the pain, making them bleed some. His wrist bubbled up with redness, and holding onto the burning flesh only made it worse.
“You-you are-” he stammered, holding his boiling flesh tighter, thinking that would help the pain. The old man went to his side, not knowing what to do.
Sonia’s expression went from that of fury, then to regret. What has she done? She stared around with a blank expression, really seeing the chaos she brought to this small inn, possibly their home. She gasped softly, seeing a memory of her own home, her castle, when the slayers came that day. She remembered Seren pushing Sonia behind her, fighting some of them off, their parents dead only a few rooms away. “I can never do anything right.” She whispered. Though the old man heard nothing, as he was sobbing quite loudly, Dearon stole a glance at her, hearing her softened voice clearly. For a moment, he swore to the angels that she looked as though she might cry. Though she injured him, she was only trying to protect herself, wasn’t she? Wait, no! She was an immortal, and they were ruthless beings, what in the heavens was he thinking?
From around the corner where the staircase was, frantic footsteps approached them. A young girl, who looked fairly similar to the boy named Dearon, glared at Sonia. She ran to him, who Sonia assumed to be her brother, and she held him close.
“I’m-” An apology started, but nothing left her lips on account of the door swinging open. The midday sunlight shined sharply on Sonia’s face, but she did not flinch or squint at all; the suns light had never bothered her.
“There! That girl killed all the men, I knew she was no slayer! I-I knew it, I did!” A man said, who Sonia foolishly spared from the incident before. He had called royal guards and two slayers, who smirked menacingly.
They began to slowly walk in, pulling out their weapons. The three tavern owners ran away upstairs, and a small crowd gathered outside, peering through the windows and door nosily.
Sonia felt her eyes illuminate, and her hands grew warm with budding flames. Oh, she was going do something that wasn’t right at all.
Finally, she sat down on one of the tables and wiped away a splatter of blood with her cloak. She waited patiently for the server to attend to her. The old man calmly went over, making sure not to step on any blood pools or bodies, and though she did not ask for anything yet, he set down a plate of rice, nicely smelling beef, and a small cup of tea. “I do not want any trouble, young slayer. Please enjoy your meal.”
She almost stood up, offended. Had he called me a Slayer? Did he just call her the one thing she hated most in this world, a slayer? She grasped the wooden cup tightly, her hand shaking uncontrollably. However, she soon calmed down, thinking rationally, as her sister would do. If she had persisted that she was most definitely not a slayer, then she would not get this free meal, nor would she be feared by the remaining men in the tavern. She simply took a bite of the warm, fresh food, her stomach growling even as she ate it.
“Dearon my boy, clean this up, burn the bodies out back,” he whispered, “and call your sister to help.” Slayers who murdered their fellow humans were not questioned, no one dared to stand up against them. The old man waved the boy away, but the boy wouldn’t move. The remaining customers ran out in alarm, and the old man locked the doors after them. He drew the shades, implying that the tavern was closed. Sonia became irritated; she felt the boy’s glare even though her back was to him.
“You damn slayers think you can do whatever you want!” Sonia choked on her tea, startled by the sudden outburst behind her. She slammed her cup down, swiveling her body to face this courageous person. Who in the heavens does he think he is talking to? Hm, that is right...he does not realize he is speaking to an immortal, but rather a slayer. Even so, why does this mortal boy defy who he thinks to be a slayer? She looked the boy up and down critically. He was no older than she was, very lanky, and look at that - he had a mop of red hair of his own, but unlike Sonia’s it was warmer, more brown, like his eyes. He wore what the old man wore: brown tattered rags that were too small on a tall boy like him. The poor old man was begging him to calm down, to cause trouble. She wasn’t going to waste her time on this poor boy.
“Silence that mouth of yours, peasant boy.” That was all she said and turned around, continuing to eat her food. She was tired, and felt some sympathy for the old man. Best not to cause any more trouble. She was even willing to leave the two silver coins instead of eating the meal for free. Serenity would do the same, after all. Her mouth salivated with every bite and the tea was not too hot, making it easy to gulp down. It was sweet, and tasted like honey. The blissfulness did not last. The tavern reeked of blood, and it was uncomfortable as the man began dragging bodies across the floor, as his son, or grandson, refused to help. Soon after that unpleasant dragging sound came to a halt, she still rolled her eyes as footsteps stormed towards her. Then, a hand slammed down on the table, right beside her food.
“Dearon my boy, stop this nonsense now!” The old man shouted.
“No papam!” He said to his elder, turning back to Sonia, his breath hot on her neck as he leaned over from behind her. “Leave this tavern, you are not welcomed here, you murderer!”
“Why you-” Sonia started to growl, yet was rudely interrupted as he stepped closer in front of her, faced her squarely, and grabbed her by the collar of her cloak, lifting her off the ground slightly. Her hood fell to her shoulders, exposing her passionate hair.
“You slayers are nothing but trouble-” He stared for a moment, distracted by her face, her eyes, that hair. His eyes were narrowed in anger, then, they widened in recognition. He was still holding her in his grasp, holding her so high, that he was looking up at her. He felt the unusual hot breath from Sonia’s heavy breathing, and saw her eyes slowly furrow in anger.
She wrapped her pale hand around his wrist, hissing, “Get your filthy hands off of me, I am no slayer you fool.” Scorching heat diffused from her hand onto his wrist and he cried out, letting her go. He bit his lip from the pain, making them bleed some. His wrist bubbled up with redness, and holding onto the burning flesh only made it worse.
“You-you are-” he stammered, holding his boiling flesh tighter, thinking that would help the pain. The old man went to his side, not knowing what to do.
Sonia’s expression went from that of fury, then to regret. What has she done? She stared around with a blank expression, really seeing the chaos she brought to this small inn, possibly their home. She gasped softly, seeing a memory of her own home, her castle, when the slayers came that day. She remembered Seren pushing Sonia behind her, fighting some of them off, their parents dead only a few rooms away. “I can never do anything right.” She whispered. Though the old man heard nothing, as he was sobbing quite loudly, Dearon stole a glance at her, hearing her softened voice clearly. For a moment, he swore to the angels that she looked as though she might cry. Though she injured him, she was only trying to protect herself, wasn’t she? Wait, no! She was an immortal, and they were ruthless beings, what in the heavens was he thinking?
From around the corner where the staircase was, frantic footsteps approached them. A young girl, who looked fairly similar to the boy named Dearon, glared at Sonia. She ran to him, who Sonia assumed to be her brother, and she held him close.
“I’m-” An apology started, but nothing left her lips on account of the door swinging open. The midday sunlight shined sharply on Sonia’s face, but she did not flinch or squint at all; the suns light had never bothered her.
“There! That girl killed all the men, I knew she was no slayer! I-I knew it, I did!” A man said, who Sonia foolishly spared from the incident before. He had called royal guards and two slayers, who smirked menacingly.
They began to slowly walk in, pulling out their weapons. The three tavern owners ran away upstairs, and a small crowd gathered outside, peering through the windows and door nosily.
Sonia felt her eyes illuminate, and her hands grew warm with budding flames. Oh, she was going do something that wasn’t right at all.