Tyrant

[Unwillingly 18123]

Tyrant

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

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“What have you become, Cyrene?”

 

Not even she remembered what she once was. Whether it be a leader, a warrior, or just some monarch there to say yes or no, it wasn’t something she really cared for anymore, even if she used to. All she cared about anymore was getting by and surviving. She was struggling to even continue existing. Now, she had nothing. Not even a home. Within the span of a few days, she went from living like royalty to living in an abandoned shack. There was no failure that could be quicker than her own, and she was now the living epitome of this: Failure.

 

“Where will you go?”

 

She had been asked this time and time again. The truth is, she didn’t know where she would go. This time, she had no fallback. She had no plan, nobody to go to because all she had was her home. It was pathetic if anything, the way she’s living— If this can even be called living.

 

Often Cyrene’s mind would wander, and any passerby who cared to look might take note of this. Some even may remember the familiar face on the road. Of course, no straight-spined, proud princess would they see, but instead a destroyed, tired-eyed ex-princess who wandered aimlessly and cared little for her natural appearance anymore. She wouldn’t stop to speak with them, only responding with an unwelcoming glare. Clearly, there was some sort of mute distaste buried behind those dull eyes.

 

From time to time, she found herself in the wilderness striking the pine trees out of pure defeat and rage. Sometimes she would imagine them to be those she hated most in the world. This was her only form of comfort any more. As pathetic and low as it was, she found satisfaction in letting her anger out on such violent ways.

“There’s nothing left of you but bitter and cold determination. Grit. Hate.”

 

It’s strange, thinking you know somebody, only to be taken off guard by what you didn’t see about them before. This is something Cyrene wouldn’t see in people, and she failed to realize that this is what lead to her own undoing. Sometimes, you get a helping hand from those you would least expect. This was one of her faults: she’s a judgemental prick.
 

 

 

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For long she sat beneath the pine in the tree well, letting the chill of the south freeze her attire. Now, at least, she was convinced. Convinced that there was no way out, and no way to climb back up. Not this time. She thought of many things, though her thoughts soon moved to the proud leaders of the past— those who rose and fell, just as she had.

 

As time passed and clothing froze, something hit her. She didn’t know what it was, but it was as if some sliver of determination still remained, even if her motives were no longer for the wellbeing of others, but for herself. Moving her stiff arms, the layers of ice on her clothes cracked and fell, as she soon found herself shakily writing onto a scrap of paper.
A letter was soon sent.

 

The snow cracks under approaching feet. She was no longer alone, but stuck in the silence of the tundra with an unlikely face. He smiles.

“You must be really desperate if you’re asking me of all people for help.”

Tyrant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[PosidonX7 269]

Izla smirks.

[LeoRabbit99 360]

An old man leaned back in his rocking chair with a baby girl in his arms, sound asleep. He began thinking of his old friend, Cyrene. After she passed down the crown, he only had one small moment to say his farewells. He gave her what he could at the time, a fine steed and a few concoction that would make her shoddy life easier for a short time. It was the least he could do. He remembered when he was at his lowest, and Princess Cyrene welcomed back, in despite all of his mistakes. She gave him back his home that he was shunned from. He wanted to do such much more to repay her now that she was at her lowest, but she was lost among the vast lands of Atlas. He merely waits, hoping that she finds it in herself to persevere and that they may one day meet again. ”I’m not a religious man, but my blessings are with you my old friend, Cyrene...”

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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