Topic: The Torn Soul~ Chapter 1+ Conflicted

Neon Nights

Date: 2014-04-15 10:31 EST
One word. Difficulties.

Normally, in times of struggle and inner wavering sanity, she would pull through. Without a scratch' Not likely. The little one got into trouble before a troll or leprechaun could bat an eyelash. Wearing scars both internal and external with a strange sort of pride. Her chin elevated heavenward with a trademark smirk upon her framed lips. Yes, she was a sly one. And shed admit to it to. Always have, so why change now" Well, the only problem is the way she approached the problem this time around. Her strife dimmed, her form unsteady and weak. Yet, she was to reign victorious by the adreline rush in her veins. She was to come out on top, because freedom of choice was on the line, and that was to valuable to loose....By a long shot.

A dodge, jerk of the left foot , and down pointed swipe of a knife later, Astreas was seen darting around another corner, eyes locked on the dirt path ahead while wings worked to bat away the hands of the lively vines around her. She net at the wiast and slid across the ground, transparent lace of her night sky colored converse getting uncerimoniously caught on a stray limb, and she was less then gentle with removal. Her brow was sleeked with fresh sweat and the chiming of gunshots signaled another competitors's downfall. Her jaw set, she swiftly whipped around the corner to the let, ignoring eruptions from the right, and was snagged by thorns ankle deep. She could feel the crimson coating where ever the plants pricked. The numbness intensifying to slight pain.

Her hand snaked to her belt, where a fresh syringe was obtained, it's caramel colored liguid ablaze in its cartridge. The metallic point pierced the skin of her right calf, where a near quarter was applied. Her hand was steady and the energy spiked so suddenly that the pattern of steps preplanned in her mind faltered slightly, but it was brief. The next few sprints and turns were clear of any life threating, or dangerous things. However, on the fifth swerve, she found herself face to face with a mirror, broken and with shards shattering around her. It was blocking the path to continue. A path she wasn't entirely sure she was willing to take. It wasn't so much danger in this one, but the ticking of minutes flying by would soon pay to be a mistake. She fought the slippery nature of the reflective glass, and tried a route around but, of course, the illusion of more mirrors made the opening she saw before look so easily passable. Work of the fae. Only them, to her knowledge, which has enhanced to a problematic state to sustain survival, are sneaky enough to invent this type of mirror wall.

The cracks spidering every which way cut her appearance into many sections, some on an offset collision side by side. Her palm came to rest along a particularly big piece, still mounted toward the middle of the frame, and swiped her thumb over a crack down the middle. Small, but visible. It's cavern glowed with minimal intensity, a soft baby blue, before the darkest of reds spilled, a single droplet, traveling down the length of the crack. Soon enough, it's route swiveled a bit left, and once it reached the very bottom, the frame quaked. The glass face, or what was left upon it, churning like molten rock, but refused removal. That wasn't her goal, however. No matter how planted it was, the whole thing split down the middle with the helpful aid of her gloved palms. taking hold of both edges, and separating them while groaning slightly from effort. Enough for her form to slip through, and continue in the pitch blackness of the rift between realms, until she was surrounded by the setting of the maze once more, a faint curl to her lip. "Could've stopped right there....Could've left this evil place....Where would the fun in that be, though?" The unleash of her inner daredevil, albeit it's second appearance, provoked continuation.

Her eye's, narrowed to slits with green iris's bright, once she rounded the edge, the bright whiteness of day faded. Now, in the arena of many demon downfall's, she was alone in the blackest night. This change was an actual advantage to the young one. Her senses were more keenly tuned when her eyes sight always dims in usage, or fails completely. So blinding her will only make her all the more dangerous. Her hands clasped the knife, pulsing a violet purple, only bright enough to bathe the ground in a three foot radius circle. Around her, the petty screams of her kind upped her confidence level. How long had she prepared for this? Two minutes and a half. And yet, the others who have trained with the best, can't seal their lips for the swiftest of deaths. So many children, all with the body of teenage-like adults. Weak and frail in looks, and apparently pain control/stamina. "Move it along, my dear. Time is not kindred," she hissed under her god awfully sour breath. "Neither is nature."

That truth had been pre-wedged to the forefront of her mind, only adding to the spiked adrenaline, and sweet taste of victory teasing her tongue.

((unfinished))