Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2015 12:07:25 GMT -5
Leona had come seeking solace and guidance. She was not a particularly religiously spirited girl, as a child she had been taught the lessons of the Duology but influence from the Royal Crown lands meant she knew a little of the architect and the teachings there too. But, regardless of the religious deity that glanced down on her, she did not feel the look was particularly favourable today. She was sat alone, on the steps of the temple in the rain. The drizzle came from the sky, softly spitting across the ground and the girl that sat beneath it. Her fiery red hair stuck to her cheeks and her clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable on her skin. But Leona did not notice any of that, she did not seem to have a mind to take in the world around her. So lost, was the woman in her own thoughts.
To catch sight of this beautiful, goddess-like woman, in such a vision of disrepair was an unusual sight. Usually she was well turned out, usually she was smart and fierce and fashionable, but today her blue dress was lank and water-logged and her face without make-up. What did dress her face, in place of the make-up was a large, purple bruise. It started at her cheek bone and seemed to venture all down the right side of her face to her soft, rose lips. Today the lip born cuts, splits from repeated blows. He’d hit her face – he’d never done that before, but for sure she was glad the beaten had come there for it protected the child in her stomach. Amongst the wet folds of her clothes was a small, early bump of her pregnancy.
Water rolled, unsympathetic, down the back of her neck and Leona closed her eyes. Against the rain on her face it was impossible to see her tears, but where anyone to get close enough the unbalanced soft and painful snuffle of her breath would be telling enough. She was trembling, from cold and pain but was unable to move further, waiting for her weakness to pass and her strength to return so she could rise above this, as she had before.
~~
Liam Connell
To catch sight of this beautiful, goddess-like woman, in such a vision of disrepair was an unusual sight. Usually she was well turned out, usually she was smart and fierce and fashionable, but today her blue dress was lank and water-logged and her face without make-up. What did dress her face, in place of the make-up was a large, purple bruise. It started at her cheek bone and seemed to venture all down the right side of her face to her soft, rose lips. Today the lip born cuts, splits from repeated blows. He’d hit her face – he’d never done that before, but for sure she was glad the beaten had come there for it protected the child in her stomach. Amongst the wet folds of her clothes was a small, early bump of her pregnancy.
Water rolled, unsympathetic, down the back of her neck and Leona closed her eyes. Against the rain on her face it was impossible to see her tears, but where anyone to get close enough the unbalanced soft and painful snuffle of her breath would be telling enough. She was trembling, from cold and pain but was unable to move further, waiting for her weakness to pass and her strength to return so she could rise above this, as she had before.
~~
Liam Connell