(November '16) Prompt #2- "Here they come, Days of peace"

[Kris]

November's 2nd prompt is "Here they come, Days of peace"



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[ArtisticVicu]

She checked her weapon, back pressed up against the remains of a wall. The sound of weapon fire pinging off the wall and scraping the edge filled her hearing as she snapped the pieces back together. The weapon charged in her hand as she pressed against the wall, listening. A slight lull fell in the weapon fire and she leaned out, taking shots as soon as she had sights for them.

Three of the enemy fell before she was forced back into cover. She moved along the wall, keeping low and out of sight as she moved to a different vantage point. The other edge wasn’t being targeted now and she used that to her advantage, crossing the gap as she took out two others before they noticed and re-aimed at her. A shot grazed her back as she moved to the next stretch of cover.

Barely even fazed by the wound, she took off running. The exit was well covered and clear. The hallway echoed with her heavy footfall and even breathing but she strained her ears, doing what she could to try and make out any other sounds.

Night air slapped her in the face. Surprised, she came to a stuttered halt, looking around. Not at all expecting to make it out, she did her best to get orientated as quickly as possible. There was noise behind her, not leaving her much time. Taking off, Adaeze kicked hard into the ground, wings unfurling from her back with searing pain. She ignored them, shoving her feet harder into the ground, trying to get as far as quickly as she could.

The wind somehow made the new appendages sting more and Adaeze shoved the pain to the back of her mind as her green eyes bled into their natural red. Magic choked the air around her and, with a crack, the world shifted and she collapsed several hundred miles from where she had been, shaking and in even greater pain.

“Adaeze!” “Oh goodness, is she alright?” “What-ARE THOSE WINGS?!?!” “Everyone calm down and give her room.” “We have to do something!” “Where did she come from?” “Can you contact her father?”

“Ada. Hey, Adaeze. Come on, respond to me sweetheart,” a low, gruff voice coaxed, cold hands resting on her head and between her wings.

She groaned. “Please tell me my father was not contacted yet.”

“Not yet, sweet cheeks,” the low, gruff voice assured. She opened her eyes, meeting a mismatched gaze and a worried expression. It didn’t lessen as her vision cleared. The pale face above her was far paler than it should be and she tried to push herself upright. The hand between her wings pressed down. “Not yet. We need to make sure your wings aren’t gonna damage you or get more damaged.”

Adaeze shuddered, burying her face in the crook of her arm. The hand on her head stroked through her hair. “Where’s Little Miss, sweetheart?”

An unnatural hush fell over the room. The silence stretched on as Adaeze fought with the lump in her throat. Eventually, she croaked out, “She’s not coming back.”

There were gasps and low whispers with the possible sound of someone fainting. The hand between her wings became heavier. It was too long and too soon when that low, gruff voice asked, “These are her wings, aren’t they?”

Adaeze choked on the sudden sob.

Hours passed in a blur and Adaeze found herself coming to by a knock on the door frame. She turned, looking at the three men there. The man that had knocked was standing in the entry while the other two remained out in the hall, almost to the opposite wall. Adaeze focused her attention on the man in the entry. “Hello Father.”

His eyes were not on her but on her new appendages. He stepped forward, a careful hand running over the still healthy feathers. “How…”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it was beyond painful, for the both of us.”

“And the angel?” he asked, suddenly worried.

She shook her head again. Her father cupped her cheek before pulling her into a hug, wary of touching her wings. “I’m so sorry, my child. I wish I could fix this.”

Adaeze tightened her grip on her father before pulling away. “She was going to succumb to the Corruption anyways. This, in the end, was a mercy.”

He didn’t push the subject. Merely, he turned her around and examined the work that had been done. “How long did they say?”

“They don’t know.” She looked back at one of the appendages. “We’ll just have to wait and see what my body does. They believe we’re in the clear if they haven’t already been rejected but they’re not sure about lasting effects from the mixed blood.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be close. You have to let me know if there is anything I can do.”

“I will.”

The man left, leaving the two men standing outside the door. They entered, the taller of the pair removing his hat. Adaeze offered the brothers a gentle smile. “What can I do for you two?”

“Your old man asked us to keep you company,” the stout of the pair stated, the low, gruff voice from a few hours prior leaving the man’s lips. “We brought some games.”

The tall of the pair placed the bag he was carrying on the desk, inquiring in his higher, nasal voice, “We figured it would pass the time faster.”

“Bro’s idea,” the stout of the pair commented with a shrug, smiling fondly. The taller enjoyed the praise but it was clear there was a bit of trepidation with accepting all of it. Adaeze stepped forward and stumbled. She was not used to the weight of the wings, nor how they seemed to move on their own. Cold hands kept her upright and she met the unmatched gaze again. He frowned, asking gently, “You alright, sweetheart?”

Adaeze nodded, straightening. “Not used to these things.” She shuddered as one brushed against her arm. “May never be.”

“That is alright,” the taller assured, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “After all, there will be plenty of time to adjust to them.”

The stout man frowned. “Bro, we’re in the middle of a war.”

But the taller shook his head, pulling out a letter from a pocket. “Here they come, days of peace.”

She took the letter, finding it contained a flier that mirrored the words the taller just spoke. Adaeze looked up from the letter written in a very familiar hand to stare at the taller that just beamed at her. The stout man took the letter and read over it before looking the flier over.

“Bro, I don’t think this is a good thing.”

The taller waved his brother off. “They do not realize that we will be bringing the peace they are talking about.”

Adaeze shared a look with the taller’s brother. She offered the taller a tight smile. “I hope so.” She caught a glimpse of a wing twitching behind her. “I truly hope so after all we’ve gone through.

[m139]

Here they come, days of peace
(same storyline as Halloween (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=83835&p=2834893&viewfull=1#post2834893) prompt)

"Here they come, days of peace!"

That is what they had said at the beginning. Right before everything had gone bad, that was what they had said, just as it is said in almost any epoch in time. And like when it is said anytime else, it ended with the same failed results.

There were those in charge, spearheading the change. And there were those on the bottom, who continued on as if nothing had happened- well, they carried on as much as they were able. Truth be told, there was no one who was able to remain completely unaffected.

And though each one suffered in turn, she knew for a fact that hers was one of those drawn out the longest. Peace, they cried. Peace! But for who? And at whose expense? And under what terms? And, most importantly, when?

Peace, peace. It is always coming. Always coming. And to hasten its coming, there first must be war, and then maybe just a little bit of injustice...

Peace. The promises to millions, the wish of billions, the actuality of, hmm... maybe a few?

Maybe. Or maybe not.

She remembered what it had been like, those old days. Those days that passed in lazy succession before those radicals came to power. Things were not going well, true, but no one cared then, at least, no one who could affect the change. And those who were effected, those who were growing in discontent, only swelled in numbers. And then- and then it was too late.

A massive power change. Some saw it coming, but few thought it would happen as soon as it did. But, then again, one cannot have a discontented poor for long before things happen. And then, to make things worse, war. And then, the debt. And, then, as things began to get bad again, internal war. And another power switch.

And that was when things went from bad to worse, or, at the very least, that was when things went from bad to worse for her. For that was when the draft expanded, and she, previously exempt, found herself as one of the targeted new group.

You see, it was expected that there would be a military draft, and, when she was in the eleventh grade, she had not worried about it. After all, she was still younger then, and, besides, there was always the education exemption. But, when the leadership changed, a new type of draft began: the vocational draft.

And it was not so much of a draft, either, but more of a dictation of what one would do. But it was not for all: no, they knew that would not work. History had proved it. Instead, it was only a partial dictation, one meant to make sure that some of the nations more valuable resources did more than study the humanities.

Resources. That was practically what they thought of her and the others. Resources. Things. And it showed to in the way that they treated them.

She had refused, at first. Why should they dictate her life? She had run, like many had done for that first draft. But then they had caught her. And then, when she still was obstinate, then, well...

Well, there had been those people who had been glad to be recruited. There was something nice about being told that you were amazing, that you were special. And even if you know the purpose behind it- it is nice to feel appreciated, when all your life you have been silently resented by your peers for something you cannot control.

She had been tempted, too. But the initial pushes and pulls, for personal power, for personal gain, those she had been able to resist, but with difficulty.

And then, when they realized that would not work, they put her with the others. She had not been the only one who had resisted. She never got to really meet them, for that would have been to dangerous. But she knew they existed, or at least, their voices did, because every so often she would hear a muffled scream from a room not her own. As day succeeded day (or at least, she assumed days passed: there was no real method of telling), the screams came closer and closer. She ate the few times food came in, but she was always hungry. But each time there was a scream, that hunger went away, and fear replaced it.

Yes, fear had almost been her downfall. Many a time, she almost yelled out to whoever was watching her that she would do what they wished, whatever they wished. But she did not. There was something in her that still spoke rebellion. And if the others were still standing alone...

Often, the though flitted through her head that perhaps all the screams were made up. Perhaps they were. Then, they were just trying to scare her. She would not be scared. Or perhaps these people were giving up. Then, in that case, she alone must remain. Or perhaps, they were dying...

She would then finger the place where a small cross used to hang around her neck, and where now was only the collar of a prisoner's uniform. If death had no meaning- then it would not matter, then. But if it did, well...

Her time came, soon enough. They burst down the door which had seperated her from the world. Blinding white light burst from behind them, sillouetting the three figures. The one in the front yelled, "Well, will you join us?"

From where she was, she could see him holding up a syringe. He took a step forward, and fear had flashed over her. Then, as she continued to stare at that black object jutting out from the light, the fear began to change...

"No." she had said, quietly. From somewhere there had come a spark of courage, a spark that still longed for some truth.

"What?" he had yelled back, "Answer me!"

"No!" she had shouted, even leaning forward towards him. She was not afraid, not any more-

The syringe was now plunged into her. A slight delay, and then she screamed in agony. The world seemed to swirl in many colors, first primarily yellow, then blue, then black. And then there was nothing.

She was out for the next twenty nine days. Of all the one hundred people they had tested with that serum, only seven had survived. But yet, this kind of testing was seen as necessary, and if those who did not believe so died, there was no loss.

"Here, they come, days of peace."

Yeah, but only after humanity has destroyed itself.