Aurelia
and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?
Aurelia's focus falters as the flaming arrow arcs through the air and sinks into the last henchman's spine. She flinches, a brief show of sympathy... which surprises her, considering the purpose these men are here with, the goods they're trying to run off with.
The rush of Melita across the docks and the steady movement of the last man standing to rise up again, it brings her gaze back. A gaze that darkens with intent once more, as she stands in the shallows, clothes dripping with seawater that weighs her down into her heels, which sink into the beckoning sand. This is her home, and these are the Ark's belongings, whatever they may be. It's not the contents of the box that matter, it's the premise. No one can simply steal from the crew and get away with it. No one.
Not even some sorry looking urchin of a man, who clearly has carved out a path in life that would lead him to such a demise as this. The arrow is released. It hasn't far to go but it collects a strength from Aurelia's pull that wouldn't need distance. The head pierces his flesh, sinking into his stomach and passing through far enough that only half of the arrow sticks straight out.
He howls and crumples, and that is it. He is still alive, of course... stronger opponent that he is, and Aurelia is fine to leave him this way. Her gaze glances up towards Melita, though, and she wonders if the other smuggler has such mercy. "Melita!" Aurelia calls out, just in case she had plans of finishing him off, "Leave him..." and she glares back down at him from where he looks up at her in surprise that's shrouded by pain, "let him suffer. Even if he lives, he'll know better than to steal from the Ark ever again."
At that, she lowers her bow and marches towards the crate.
The rush of Melita across the docks and the steady movement of the last man standing to rise up again, it brings her gaze back. A gaze that darkens with intent once more, as she stands in the shallows, clothes dripping with seawater that weighs her down into her heels, which sink into the beckoning sand. This is her home, and these are the Ark's belongings, whatever they may be. It's not the contents of the box that matter, it's the premise. No one can simply steal from the crew and get away with it. No one.
Not even some sorry looking urchin of a man, who clearly has carved out a path in life that would lead him to such a demise as this. The arrow is released. It hasn't far to go but it collects a strength from Aurelia's pull that wouldn't need distance. The head pierces his flesh, sinking into his stomach and passing through far enough that only half of the arrow sticks straight out.
He howls and crumples, and that is it. He is still alive, of course... stronger opponent that he is, and Aurelia is fine to leave him this way. Her gaze glances up towards Melita, though, and she wonders if the other smuggler has such mercy. "Melita!" Aurelia calls out, just in case she had plans of finishing him off, "Leave him..." and she glares back down at him from where he looks up at her in surprise that's shrouded by pain, "let him suffer. Even if he lives, he'll know better than to steal from the Ark ever again."
At that, she lowers her bow and marches towards the crate.
and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong
