 | xptimist-archive-deactivated201 ; 24 *throws this at you and hides* |
Send me a number. I will find the nearest book and turn to that page and use the first line as a prompt to write a drabble for our muses.
“Jonas collapsed to his knees and stared with horror at the ornate dagger sticking out of Tomas’s throat.” — Falling Kingdoms by Morgan Rhodes
To say that things had happened in a blur would be incorrect. A parody of the truth, something that had not truly happened, because she could remember every single moments, every single excruciating detail. There was no blur of time, no doubt of what had happened, no way of erasing the event from her memory, of getting rid of it and forgetting that it ever happened.
Instead, there was silence, and there was the sound of something whistling through the air, and there was the sound of a blade being embedded into something, and there was the sound of gurgling as the man, a stranger, took his last breaths. Blood seeped out from around the blade slowly, dripping down the elongated neck, and the tall man seemed to spasm, eyes going wide and arms flailing, and she could not tear her eyes away.
The only thought that really occurred to her, the only thought that was running through her mind, was the fact that the blade that had been used to kill that man was beautiful. It was ornate, in its beauty, embedded with jewels and clearly crafted with a fine hand, and she stared at it. At the blade that seemed to end at the man’s neck, at the way that the blood stained the white collar of his nicely pressed shirt red. A deep red, vivid in its colors, something that she would never be able to forget.
Everything seemed so bright, impossibly bright, and Naminé swayed where she was standing, unsure of when she had started to feel lightheaded. Unsure of when everyone had started to panic, screaming and yelling and running in all directions. Chaos was everywhere, because humans did not understand how to act under duress, in moments like these when someone had been killed. Or at least, was dying, and she distantly thought that the person trying to pry the dagger out of the man’s throat was dumb, because that would not save him. That would only kill him faster.
Suddenly a hand grabbed her wrist and she was being dragged away, long skirt getting caught between her legs and under her feet as she stumbled, automatically trying to keep up with the person who had grabbed her. Someone with black and red hair, wearing a black and red gown, and she could not see this girl’s face, could only follow her outside in her white dress that tore slightly underneath her unsteady feet. Even though everything around her seemed to shine with clarity Naminé still felt detached from reality, unsure if what had happened had really happened, yet it undoubtedly had.
The air outside was cold and brisk as it hit them in the face and that was what snapped the blonde out of her trance. Quickly flashes of blood and the dying man appeared in front of her eyes and she dug her heels into the ground, a sense of panic climbing up her throat. Someone had just died in front of her and—”Who are you?” Her voice was unsteady but audible as she stared at the young woman who had dragged her out of the insanity that had been that ballroom with the people screaming and crying and the man who was dying, probably bleeding out onto the ground—
The mental image came unbidden, and she trembled.
”My name is Ruby, now come on! It’s not safe here,” the girl who had grabbed her said urgently, tugging on Naminé’s arm and all the blonde could do was jerk into motion and follow.
Distantly, she glanced down at her dress, and she blinked when she saw specks of red on the hem, and then at Ruby’s waist where there seemed to be something missing from a decorative sheath on the belt of her dress. And they continued to run further and further away from that hall, and the small blonde girl said nothing, instead letting her hair fall from where it had been pinned up carefully, staring at the black and red head in front of her.
