The Sun's Fading Reflection

[Amayonnaise 1535]

-= A Portrait of Anya Calithil =-

 

Spoiler

 

 

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Flickers of memories wisped through her mind as she struggled to recall where she was. What had happened. A giant Osprey had approached the bridge. Her new Mother snatched, nearly swallowed once. Rescued by herself, only to be snatched and gulped again. She had been successful in throwing Eretria out of the creature’s maw, but Anya had only sunk further within. She recalled pure agony from then on, her blood boiling and racing as she stabbed and jabbed in pure hysteria, seeking to escape the creature’s acidic depths. With the aid of her Father, Nedai, and Arcelia, the beast was eventually tortured into heaving the elfess forth - but by then, her clothes had already melded with her melting, disfigured flesh. Her breathing drew forth in raspy, ragged breaths, and she was incapable of remaining conscious for more than a few moments at a time.

 

She recalled further pain as she was lifted and moved. By then, her very life itself had been on the cusp of fleeting. However, she was lucky. Moments before she was granted the mercy of induced sleep, she witnessed something.. Beautiful. A wisteria, leaning over her. Was it her Mother? As she drifted off, her mind began to wander in momentary thought.

 

'Mother? Has she visited me? Has she saved me? She can’t have - she’s not alive.. Father said she wasn’t. That her sapling withered. Does this mean I’m dead, then? Oh, Tara…'
 

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When the elfess awoke, she found herself lodged in a tub of curious liquid, bound in an obscene amount of bandages. She felt lethargic, struggling to regain sense and motion in her limbs at first. To even move her neck was a near impossible task, though eventually her hand rose to rub some gunk out of her right eye. 

 

It took her some time to process what had transpired, and where she now rested. As her memories gradually resurfaced, she recalled Eretria’s own acidic burns and lurched forth - only to cry out at the sudden agony. Her focus shifted, peering down at her frame. Catching a glimpse of her fingers. The marred, disfigured, melted flesh upon those spindly fingers. 

 

Slowly, she turned about, seeking a nearby mirror. Her eyes shut, scrunching them for a few brief moments. Eventually, she looked.

 

Spoiler

 

Flesh, melted and marred. Twisting and coiling upon her muscle and bones. Her wondrous, magnificent mane of sunset coils reduced to thin, frail fragments barely clinging to her warped scalp. Puffy tissue engulfing most of her left eye, and the side of her nose.

 

She sat there in silence, examining this… this creature before her. The movement of its eyes caught her focus - soon realising, soon.. Processing..

 

'Is that… me?'

 

A rush of emotions drove forth, flooding her every fibre of being. Shock, soon followed by despair. Shame then, and guilt - for she did not regret saving Eretria’s life by any means, but.. She could not help but despise her own reflection. But how could she feel such a way? For not looking like.. Like this would mean she left Eretria to perish.

 

Anger, then. An immense rage surging forth like a crashing wave. 

 

'Am I being cursed?

You abandoned me. I did my duties. I did everything I could - I do them still, now. You abandoned us, and yet you curse us? You curse us with immense impurity? Without a single inch of unblemished flesh? **** you, Tah.'

 

And then.. Grief. For how could she ever hope to wed the most beautiful, most elegant woman imaginable, if she were to look like this? No.. She would have to call it off. She could not have Alatáriel gaze upon her in such a state. No, she couldn’t.. She couldn’t have anyone look upon her. She had been reduced to a writhing mass of flesh and bone. Scarcely more than an undead. Perhaps she already was one. Perhaps her tissue had already begun decomposing... She could not bear the thought.

 

She slowly staggered to her feet, collecting a nearby, thin gown that covered most of her horrific form, and slunk away. To move across the Vale took perhaps hours - one foot at a time. One agonising step, as if she were walking on a bed of nails. But her desire to remain unseen drove her forth, and eventually the once-Cleric vanished within her home, and bolted the locks.

 

Spoiler

@Your Favorite Impure@Akrassia@marslol@Mewliet@Valannor

 

Thank you @ClassyBellsfor scarring my character to high hell. Now let's see if we can reverse it ^-^

 

[ImCookiie 1909]

Spoiler

I have nothing to add RPly, unfortunately. I just have to congratule you on a great piece of story-telling.

 

[ClassyDryad 1733]

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This poor bird is going to have to go into hiding before the crusade arrives.