#leoninum

[myxomycota]

Didymium leoninum by Gim Siew Tan

[oraculideluna]

"You are free to sever the chains of fate that bind you."

Legend of Dragoon starters - @r1trigger

For a moment, for longer than she really should have, she holds to these words, keeps them in her mind and tries to let them find respite in her heart. The very idea behind them is something she has desired since the start of it all. They welcome her, and she is ready to fall into their embrace. Free to sever the chains of fate that bind you. It is almost poetic the way he says it, beautiful in a way that’s unintentionally false. He doesn’t know he’s lying to her, wouldn’t disrespect her so.

And in light of that, she wants desperately to believe what he says. But she can’t. For a long moment, she holds onto the words, but she is sure he can feel the way her heart aches when she lets go of the wish and reins herself back into the reality of their situation. 

Even if she could just walk away, it simply isn’t even an option for her now. She’s in too deep now, has invested herself far too much to let it go. To find another to pick up what they have started; what they have come so far to achieve. Her hands aren’t bound to this quest, there are others who may volunteer to try, others in the world who call themselves Sorceress, who may be trying to live a simple life as she had once tried. Another to be called to the source of the sickness of their world and…and…

And maybe it isn’t just her that he’s talking about in this. Maybe he needs her to walk away so that he can, too, with as minimal guilty conscience as possible. It doesn’t seem likely, she knows how his mind works, knows that neither of them would be satisfied with walking away. An air of defeat already hangs around her at even the thought of giving in and going back home. 

She recalls Ravus’s voice when he told her their mother had fallen ill and wasn’t doing well. How he had implied there was more they needed to discuss, but couldn’t do it until she was home. Did that have something to do with this? The confusion of it all clouds her mind, unnerves her; Squall has never been like this towards her, and perhaps it’s selfish to want to continue when he doesn’t want to. 

It’s almost instinctual to protect herself, and though she never thought it would be against Squall, she feels herself putting up her defenses, cautiously blocking the connection between them. If he doesn’t want to do this, he can tell her. But maybe he needs it to be her that calls it off so he doesn’t feel as guilty. Selfish for him in a way that she’s not known him to be selfish, so it must be important to him. He needs this. Maybe this time, she should shoulder the guilt so he can continue on with as little doubt in his mind. 

She wonders if he can feel her resolve through the blockade she’s slowly put between them when she looks at him again, giving a soft nod. “Alright,” she says with conviction she doesn’t feel. “Then…I will accept Ravus’s train ticket and go back to Dollet.” Back home. Her heart weighs heavy, but her shoulders straighten just slightly as if preparing to carry it. “This is it, then.”

[phylxrchus-archive]

Well Summer is reaching its end and despite the busy person that I am now compared to when I first started here in 2016, I want to thank each and every one of you. As always, without all the love and support from you guys, I wouldn’t be here and doing what I love to do: writing as one of my favorite characters in all of the Final Fantasy Universe. In addition, I would not have achieved another milestone such as this one. To say that I’m eternally blessed and grateful is a rather huge understatement, but its true nonetheless.  

I could go on, but most of you know how it goes already. So without further delay, here’s the blogroll. A big thank you to everyone mentioned on this list: 

@crystarium-rose @sxrtis @ablackwing @aends / @nullefy @aetla / @valfreyan @alamiras / @furymage @arcanescion / @skyespiral @armigcr / @aruktai / @strfe @arachnexdragoon / @stingslikeabee @asouldivided @astarlightpromise /@radiantheart @badassbarmaid @blackmage-lulu @blcssedsoul @bxstiarius @caderalde / @scientaile @caiiius @cetraflos @cetrasguard @chaoticflicker @ciindyaurum / @monicaelshett @codeprint / @promethcus @croawe @curvaceoux @cygnuxs @deacruor / @prismsplit @divine-identite @dragonerinn @dromii @e0nian @fairlegacy @firxga / @holyguardian @flava-proelium @floweringeclipse @freckletouched / @radiantcrowned @gumihc / @moonfayth @idno41269 @infideliis /@massadamnata @immortalguardian @inproelia @jjillekkot @kissafist @ladydiaochan @lazuliss @leoninum @leorugiet @leviathkand @lockedfighter @lockethart @loqis @lovevoiid @lucifcrux @lustralium @lvnafreya @magitekelite @martyrwept @misplacedheroics @ndeavor @nolovclost @ofbesaid @ofdivineright @ofetro @ofsilverguns @one-happenin-cat @pathoftrials @petalwind / @snowgloss @praeliiatrix / @praesidioest @promptlysilver-gun @prudentiae @re-no @residentangel @rexcrystallis @rishliocht / @urnaithi @roguexqueen @sanctiichor / @venctii  @serenefulmine @shockwavepulsar @siravron @soarae /@thyellae @spoil-of-war @stellaux @sukkubxs @sunsreign @thekingsshield @topmechaniic @trashkingizunia @triggerxhappy @xkuja I am ninety-five percent sure I got everyone mentioned on this list. In the chance that I did not mention you and you know we’ve had a relationship in one way or another, I do apologize in advance. Once again, thank you for all your love and support. As always, despite my limited time on here, I look forward to continue on here and what’s to come. Much Love, Kaoru Original Art Credit

[jc]

Coronaleuchter, ach 🤦🏻‍♂️, ich meine: Kronleuchter im @hotelcollegiumleoninum. (hier: Hotel Collegium Leoninum, in der Nova Vita Residenz Bonn) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9uFDMkKFJV/?igshid=1gnny7fga3gqn

[dragonaea]

   waits for @leoninum to come back--somewhat patiently

[dragonaea-archived]

    i really miss @leoninum

[dragonaeaarchive]

   ONE OF MY FAVE PEOPLE ON THIS PLANET LOGGED IN LAST NIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MONTHS! I AM SO HAPPY TO EVEN SEE A GLIMPSE OF @leoninum <3 HE ALWAYS MAKES ME SMILE <3333 SOMEONE I’VE KNOWN FOR YEARS! I HOPE HE SEES THIS WHEN HE LOGS BACK ON! YOU’VE BEEN MISSED SO MUCH <3

[catapti]

15.04.2018, 15:00 Uhr GEISTIGES FUNDAMENT FÜRS GYMNASIUM LEONINUM

Die Herz-Jesu-Priester wollen das Kloster in Handrup weiter zu einem geistlichen Zentrum der Region ausbauen. Da manche Menschen ein schiefes Bild vom Klosterleben haben, ist es goldrichtig, dass sich das Herz-Jesu-Kloster in Handrup am bundesweiten Tag der offenen Klöster am 21. from Google Alert – Kloster https://ift.tt/2qzyNHD via IFTTT

[minamoto91]

Triclinium Leoninum (at Piazza San Giovanni)

[healthandbeauty7]

Natürlich Abnehmen in 6 Monaten – Dein Weg ins neue Leben mit Felix Klemme Felix Klemme (bekannt aus der RTL2 Sendung "Extrem schwer") stellte am 10.1.14 im Leoninum Bonn das Projekt "Natürlich Abnehmen in 6 Monaten" vor.

[myxomycota]

Didymium leoninum by Gim Siew Tan

[oraculideluna]

@leoninum

It’s half passed midnight when he stirs to find the spot beside him chilled and vacant. It’s also the fourth time that week that he’s reached for her only to find she isn’t there.

It isn’t long until he’s found her, out on the terrace finding a moments quiet in the stars. Squall admires her for a moment, knowing full well that while she is a vista of tranquility, there’s more than meets the eye. She isn’t projecting, not to him - he knows she’s far too stubborn and courteous to wake him with her troubles - but he can feel the tension rolling off of her in waves.

There’s no surprise to be found in his eyes as he remains still; watching her watching the stars, looking beyond them and seeing things he can’t. She’s lost in that other world, a place far from this one, and his fingers itch at his sides to join her there.

He knows - probably better than most - how keenly her peers scrutinize. And all because she’s happened to inherit powers others cannot comprehend.

Squall presses his lips together at that, jaw working as he steps out of the shadows of the threshold and toward the woman illuminated by her namesake. When will the world realize that sorceresses are human, too?

He reaches out slowly, first through their bond - letting his presence sink in. When she shifts toward him slightly, he’s there. He wastes little time, the fingers of one hand catching her elbow as he gently, yet firmly pulls her closer. His other hand opposite reaches up to cradle her neck, his thumb splayed enough to brush along her jawline as he leans forward to similarly ghost his lips atop her awaiting crown.

His silence is kept, but his actions are loud. I’m here. Securing strong arms around her much smaller frame, Squall presses closer still and inhales only to release a deep breath moments later, features burrowing in her hair as the space between them becomes nonexistent - - and he gives her however long she needs.

No questions, no preachy speeches (not that he’s ever been one for those anyway) only a wordless invitation, and endless warmth. I’m right here.

Sleep is more difficult some days than others, and she is grateful that she has learned to manipulate their bond deep enough that he cannot tell when she is restless, nor tell when she is slowly closing him out. It isn’t because she doesn’t want him to know; only that he deserves his rest, and not to be brought down by her own bouts of unease.

(I do not want to burden you with these problems.)

Her eyes itch with tiredness, but sleep will not come. Whether because it is elusive or because she resists it, she doesn’t know, and it doesn’t matter, either. She has memorized the patterns in the ceiling, knows the arc that the sliver of moonlight filtering between the curtains makes in its trek through the night. Squall’s breathing has become an even rhythm she can nearly keep time to, disturbed only when he moves beside her or when dreams wreak havoc in his sleep.

She turns her head to look at him. The room is dark save for that bit of moonlight softly casting a glow throughout the room. He breathes easily, no lines of concern around his eyes, no pull to his lips, the tumult of their lives not a constant presence in his mind. It is the only bit of tranquility and peace he can get, and she refuses to disturb him from it. 

For long moments, she watches him. Does he regret this? She knows he will say ‘no’ in that tone of voice that is sincere but leaves little room for argument (even if she will tease and insist that he probably would have more closet space to himself had his life not led them together, but even that just gets an eyebrow raise from him), but she still cannot help but wonder. By now, without her, he may have advanced further in SeeD, made a bigger career out of it, be top of the line beyond Commander. 

Without her, he wouldn’t have to stand by the side of a woman receiving insults and curses more often than she received well wishes. He wouldn’t have to keep his hand ready to draw blade on the chance the occasional death threat was a serious attempt at her life. She can defend herself, but it is his duty as her Knight to do so without hesitation. That wouldn’t have to be his life if she hadn’t accepted him, if she hadn’t given in to the fear that had plagued her after the Succession. 

(Without me, you might have found a better kind of happiness.)

She sits up and presses the heel of her hands against her eyes. Without him, she doesn’t know where her life would be, and the thought of not having him there beside her makes her heart shatter. Through the sting of tears, she looks over to him. Calm and gentle and beautiful. She does not deserve the strength he brings her, but she doesn’t want to be without it. Without him. Carefully, she leans over and ghosts a kiss against his forehead before slipping out of bed.

The night isn’t cold when she steps out onto the terrace, breathing deeply the  air coming in off the water. It helps to clear her head and dry her eyes. She cannot dwell on the what-if’s; the fact is that life now is what it is and what it will be, and knowing that he could have found better without her, whether it is the truth or only a truth to her, will not change anything. In these quiet moments of self-loathing and confusion, her heart will always break for what could have been.

Exhaling deeply, she turns her eyes up to the sky, trying to find any semblance of peace of mind. Sleep would help, she knows this. Perhaps in a bit. Perhaps when she feels just a bit more stable. Perhaps...

Her thoughts drift, and she is lost to them, caught up in the details she shouldn’t think about. The moon rises and the night deepens, and she doesn’t know how long she stares into the distance, thinking, before she feels him close by. It might have startled her, but he is careful, gentle, more tender than she deserves. She turns to face him, but he is already there, already guiding her close, and there is no resistance from her. Only the comfort of his arms around her, his face pressed against her hair. 

It takes a lot not to cry, and even still, the burn of tears in her eyes bleed into his shirt when she presses against his chest, her arms slipping around his waist, hands gripping him firmly against her. She wants to apologize to him for everything, but she doesn’t. He wouldn’t accept it anyway.

(I’m at least sorry for being any reason you woke up so late.)

“Thank you,” she says softly, and she can hear that her voice is thick with tears and tiredness, but she doesn’t hide it from him. She can’t change what it is, and in truth, she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t know what she’d do without him.

[phylxrchus-archive]

Time is always passing quickly these days. As of this week on July 4th, I will officially have been part of the Final Fantasy RPC and tumblr roleplay for exactly two years. Back in 2016, I came at a time where most of us were eagerly anticipating the release of Final Fantasy XV. For me, it was definitely a time to be alive as both a roleplayer and a writer. Not only have I written a lot of stories with fellow writers since I came to write on tumblr, but I made some really great friends here too. Of course, there have been times where I’ve had my differences and disagreements with others on here. To those I’ve ever done wrong, I can only apologize. Looking back then and looking now, as well as the good times and the bad, I am glad to have been apart of this RPC. While I may not be in my prime anymore and more focused in my real life as I juggle with work and family life balance, I always a find a reason to stay and keep going. It wouldn’t be possible without all of you. As always, I want to thank you for the love you’ve always given me. @crystarium-rose @sxrtis @ablackwing @aetla / @valfreyan @armigcr / @aruktai / @strfe @arachnexdragoon / @stingslikeabee @asouldivided @astarlightpromise / @radiantheart @atlaslain @badassbarmaid @blackmage-lulu @blcssedsoul @blessedfate @bxstiarius @caetola / @yotzuya @caiiius @cetraflos @cetrasguard @codeprint / @promethcus @croawe @dragonerinn @dromii @e0nian @fairlegacy @firxga / @holyguardian @flava-proelium @floweringeclipse @gumihc / @moonfayth @infideliis / @massadamnata @immortalguardian @infiniitas @inproelia @invccateur @jjillekkot @ladydiaochan @lazuliss @leoninum @leorugiet @leviathkand @lockedfighter @lockethart @loqis @lovevoiid @lvnafreya @magitekelite @martyrwept @misplacedheroics @moonichor / @pathosborn @ndeavor @nolovclost @notavampirehere @ofbesaid @ofdivineright @ofetro @ofsilverguns @one-happenin-cat @pathoftrials @petalwind / @snowgloss @praeliiatrix / @praesidioest @promptlysilver-gun @prudentiae @qkslvr @re-no @reminiscentiae @residentangel @rexcrystallis @rishliocht / @urnaithi @roguexqueen @sanctiichor / @venctii  @serenefulmine @siravron @skyespiral @soarae / @thyellae @spoil-of-war @stellaux @sukkubxs @sunsreign @thekingsshield @topmechaniic @trashkingizunia @triggerxhappy @xkuja I am ninety-five percent sure I got everyone mentioned on this list. In the chance that I did not mention you and you know we’ve had a relationship in one way or another, I do apologize in advance. Once again, thank you for all your love and support. While things may be different, I definitely look forward to what lies ahead here. Much Love, Kaoru Original Art Credit

[jc]

Der Moment vor dem Auftritt. #equalcareday #NicoleWeißbrodt (hier: Hotel Collegium Leoninum, in der Nova Vita Residenz Bonn) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9KnilPKQ6j/?igshid=qnfyp80daumn

[myxomycota]

Didymium leoninum by inokashira.joe

[oraculideluna]

@r1trigger

She has never felt the heat madness before, never seen the visions that twist the mind and dangle illusions of imaginary places and people before her eyes. Promises, threats, of the things she wants the most, and often, the things she wishes she could forget. Some days she sees the Chancellor beckoning her home, to a cave she lived most of her life in, welcoming her to the dark chill away from the sun and into the comfort of soft blankets instead of the coarse sand; some days, she sees death in the form of the gods she had been forced to worship, hands reaching for her, cruel smiles twisting their faces and promising her a drawn out demise.

Most times, she cannot decide which is worse.

There are times, though, when she sees water, fruit, plants, things she has heard of but never seen, images made up in her mind as a child and held fast to as she grew older. She did not know what these plants looked like, and when she stumbles gratefully into these pockets of paradise, only to find them nothing more than pits of sand and despair, she realizes that she still does not know what they look like. It is in these moments, when she has fallen to her knees and is holding the sand that should have been water, watching it drain through her fingers, that she realizes she truly does not know the world she had been kept away from.

Her entire life had been spent tucked away from the harsh light of the sun, only allowed outside once every twenty-eight nights. “The full moon keeps you untainted from the scourge of our world,” the Chancellor used to tell her as he would guide her to stand beneath the moon that she has been named for. He took her to where people gathered to see her. Her, somehow made mythic to these people who were told only the same things she was: She is pure, she is untouched by the disease, she is to be protected – she does not know what any of this means, or why; she has only been told that the people who stand before her, so far below her that she cannot make out how many individual faces have come to see her yet again, how many new faces have shown up, how many have been lost since the last full moon – she has only been told that these people are sick, unable to be saved, and that she is important to them.

When she was younger, his answers satiated her curiosity surrounding her entrapment, and she believed what he told her of the gods and their touch keeping her from getting the sickness. Fear had been instilled in her by the man, poisoned her mind and wrapped barbed tendrils around her heart, and so tightly had she once clung to the Chancellor as a child, as she grew into adolescence, afraid of the world and the sun and the sickness. What lay beyond the walls of her chamber frightened her once. Fear kept her skin soft and her heart bent towards the men who held her captive. They told her it was to keep her safe, and safe she was, though she did not realize that she was not free.

It was not until the full moon at the beginning of her fifteenth planting season that the idea of freedom was a thought she allowed herself. Spurred on by a singular woman in the crowd standing below, the words, “Let her go free!” echoed up the canyon walls and into her ears, surprising her in ways she had not thought possible. Quickly she had been rushed back to her room, but already it was too late, the idea had already started taking root in her mind. She could not speak it aloud to the Chancellor as he helped her back behind the heavy door with multiple locks, white dress gripped tightly in her fist to keep from tripping on it as she walked. She could not ask him about what the woman had shouted, could not ask about the world beyond, and she doubted that the woman herself would survive to see dawn. That night found her awake, listening to the silence of her chambers as she imagined the people below pointing out the woman to the executioners. The fate of those who questioned the Chancellor was well known. She would be no exception.

So wholly had she believed what she had been told of the gods and her purity, that she didn’t question the way he ran things. She didn’t like the death and the murder, the strict hand with which he kept his rule, but at the time, she convinced herself she understood it. This was for the protection of her and the people who lived there, a firm hand in a harsh world. It was only to be expected. Her thoughts of the world beyond her walls were limited in scope, with no desire to leave the safety of her home. And yet, that one woman’s words resounded in her ears, working into her mind, until it was all she could think about.

Within the year, she had made her first escape attempt. She had thought it was well planned, but in truth, it was clumsy, and very quickly was she caught. The Chancellor reprimanded her sternly, frightening her into a corner. She had never seen him so angry, his eyes so dark. He shouted, he raised his hand as if to strike her, then calmed himself. Reassured her that she was safe here.

“You must stay with us, darling,” he had said, gently holding her face between his hands. “Only we will keep you from harm. Others would hurt you, abuse you. The world is not a kind place to one like yourself.”

A nod, a promise not to leave him again, and he left her alone. She allowed herself to cry when she heard the heavy locks sliding into place.

He assigned her a new permanent guard after that. A woman older than her named Crowe who looked at Luna with something akin to understanding. Maybe pity. Was she here against her will? Or was she loyal to the Chancellor? Luna wanted to trust her, but she was wary of her. Didn’t let her get close. She continued to think of a way to escape.

Her second and third attempts went only slightly better, each time learning something new about the route to get out, but getting caught each time. They let her out a couple times a day to move around, to walk, to hold her head high the way the Chancellor instructed her to while others would lower themselves to their knees or bow their heads at her passing. She learned the layout of the twists and turns of the caves, where the bigger rooms were, which hallways seemed the busiest. The small paths that were rarely used branching off the main ones. Which guard walked where, when the shift changed, the busiest times of the day. She began committing it all to memory with each day that passed.

She only hoped Crowe didn’t notice how her eyes moved around the rooms, how she studied every detail of the place with careful scrutiny. It wouldn’t do for someone as close to the Chancellor as she was to report something like this back to him. She wanted her next escape to be the one that worked.

Her fourth attempt was almost successful, somehow managing to slip past Crowe, to make her way through the shadows of the winding halls, ducking into small coves and empty rooms when someone got too close. The light of a sliver moon beckoned her to the outside of the first exit she found – and when she was caught, it ended in the worst punishment yet. Whereas before she had understood the tight grip the Chancellor kept on the people here, she now found herself victim to it, and she didn’t understand it any longer. She resented it. She resented him.

“It is for your own good,” he had spoken softly to her, one finger turning her face towards him, and she wished he’d meant the locks on her door, or the collar he’d fastened around her neck. Instead, he meant the bindings on her wrist holding her against the wall, her back bare and exposed to the people in the room.

“It pains me to do this, darling,” he said with what might have sounded like sympathy, but it was lost on her ears when the first strike came, the sharp crack against her back breaking skin. She cried out sharply and tried to move away, neck straining against the leather around her neck and wrists, but it was too tight. She pulled, but she couldn’t move. “But you have disappointed the Gods.”

In the time between the first strike and the second, when tears stung her eyes and her jaw clenched tightly against the pain, she imagined that, if this had been happening when she was younger, she would have been begging forgiveness, promising to never to do it again. Luna of even just two years ago would have been reaching for the Chancellor and swearing it would never happen again, that she would be good, she would stay put. Now, she said nothing, promised nothing, the only sounds from her the sharp cries of being struck five times against her back.

“You need only listen to us.” His words were soft against her ear, threats dripping from his voice, as he removed the straps around her wrist and helped lower her to the blankets, lying her on her stomach to keep the fresh wounds from touching anything. He brushed her hair back, looked down at her with a look she’d only seen him give to traitors. “You could have avoided this, and I trust you will in the future.” He watched her, waiting for her to agree. She merely turned her head away from him, trying not to whimper from the pain that simple motion caused.

Crowe came in later to help clean the blood from her back and wrap bandages around her. Luna had wanted to tell her how much she hates the Chancellor now, not knowing how he could hurt her in this way when once he had promised that only he could keep her from harm. She may have blamed the gods, but they had never felt as distant from her as they did now. Tears stained her cheeks, her lips trembled, and as she inhaled sharply with each press of cloth to the wounds, she swore she would escape. There was no room for argument in her mind that she brought this on herself, that this was her own doing. She deserved freedom, and the Chancellor refused it to her. Her only crime was getting caught.

Next time, she wouldn’t.

And next time, she didn’t.

At least, not by the Chancellor.

The sun beats down on her, frying her skin and draining her of all her energy. The sand coats her mouth, and she tries to cough to get it out, but each inhale brings with it more sand, more dry air. The oases offer nothing but mirages, and her throat aches for water, even if it’s hot. At the Citadel, she had water and shade, as much food as she could want and no exposure to the harsh elements of this world. The Chancellor kept her protected from this, and-

“No,” she says aloud, forcefully, voice cracking. She wouldn’t allow herself to follow that train of thought. It’s been just over two years since her last escape attempt, yet even now, the mere thought of going back to the Chancellor, asking to be let back in, knowing that the punishment awaiting her may be worse than what she has already endured – it’s enough to make the scars on her back ache. They had never healed well, twisting with scar tissue, forming jagged lines over her spine and shoulder blade, and there were some nights when they would throb terribly. She’d been assured they weren’t infected, but they hurt even after they healed.

And there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do more to her than that if she went back. No, she would sooner die under the sun’s burning gaze than go back there.

And die she might, if she can’t find some sort of reprieve. She hadn’t known what to expect from life outside the Citadel, had only seen glimpses of neighboring towns under the moonlight, too dark to see far enough to know what was out there, and nighttime disguised the heat and the sand as something much calmer than it is. So long has she been sheltered and hidden away from anything that could hurt her – save the Chancellor himself – that she could feel her skin baking in the heat, her lips cracking and bleeding, eyes painfully dry.

It feels impossible to fight the weariness in her limbs. The Chancellor has most likely sent hunters after her, to track her down and bring her back, and even that thought can’t inspire her to go faster. Beginning in the night was easier. She had wrapped a blanket around herself and found warmth with her movements. Staying warm in the cold nights was simpler. Yet as night waned and gave way to the sun, she shed the blanket, finding its heat unbearable on her skin. She walked only in her long dress, lightweight and billowing in the wind, but even that felt like too much, and yet also not enough. Too hot, but not protected enough, and she had done this wrong.

She does not know how to survive this world, and she will die because of her desire to leave. ‘At least I will die free,’ she tells herself as she struggles another step forward.

The collar still around her neck drags her down further, feeling heavier than the thick leather and metal rings actually are. The metal is hot and burns her neck, the leather chafes and rubs her skin raw, and it feels another struggle towards freedom she swears she is losing. Everything binds her back to the Chancellor, and each step is harder than the last, but she persists, she must move forward.

She must.

She must.

It’s a losing battle against the heat, but she will win against the Chancellor. She will be found dead, or, by some miracle, she will find a safe haven and get away from him forever. Either way, she will die free and away from her captivity.

She hopes for safety. Real safety. But in truth…she doesn’t even know if there is anyone else out here. The Chancellor spoke of outsiders and other people that would do her harm, but not once had she seen any visitors, no one coming in from beyond their borders, except from the neighboring towns. And in the time she has been wandering here, she has seen no one. What if the world is dead? What if they are all that’s left, and she has abandoned the only safety to be had simply because she let the idea of one lone woman shouting for freedom get to her?

And now she, a woman revered by her people, held high before them as a symbol of hope for the future, for purity from the sickness, has selfishly left them behind?

She stops and looks back to where she came from. Already, the wind has blown her tracks away and she can’t see any sign of the Citadel in the distance. The horizon is bare, sand meeting sky in ever-shifting dunes, kicking up the occasional small sandstorm, but no traces that she had even passed. No sign of how far she has gone. Even if she turns back and tries heading home, she is lost, no guarantee that she would ever make it. For a moment, panic grips her.

Perhaps somewhere in the back of her mind, she had thought that she may have had that option open to her. No matter how she resisted going back, swearing not to endure anything more at the hands of the Chancellor, at least it had been an option in her mind. But now, it isn’t.

Were her eyes not so dry, tears might have stung them at the sudden feeling of loss.

“No,” she says again, softly, shaking her head. “I will die free.”

Trying to take steadying breaths, but ending up coughing, she turns back towards whatever path she had been walking away from the Citadel and keeps on. Keeps going forward. One step in front of the other, bare feet tender and sore and aching, but still she presses on.

Until she can no longer move. She is a long way from the Citadel, and there is nothing but sand and sun before her. The day is beginning to wane, but it will not come soon enough, will not bring water with it. Only the cold, and she has left her blanket far behind her. So meticulously did she plan her escape from the Citadel, but with no idea of how to make it through the world. And now she will fall victim to it.

Her feet refuse to go any farther. Her knees buckle. She collapses to the ground.

The sand is rough against her face, the sun hot against her skin. She has enough energy to pull part of her ridiculously long dress up to cover her mouth and nose. It isn’t beautiful, the way the Chancellor had always made her life out to be; her death is ugly. Burnt and dry, weak and breathless. But it is on her terms.

Her eyes are heavy, growing more so with each blink. Vision blurring against the dimming sky.

There is nothing here except for her. Isolated. Alone. Dying as she lived, yet this time free.

Perhaps that’s beautiful.

She exhales once more. Lets her eyes linger closed before opening them again.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Another blink, and maybe this will be her last. It’s peaceful, in a way.

Nothing.

The wind tousles her hair. It’s the gentlest thing she’s felt since she left. Maybe the world isn’t so harsh after all. Maybe it has some softness. She just had to look for it.

She attempts a smile, and her lips crack, blood dripping down her cheek.

Beautiful.

Silence.

Stillness.

And a silhouette against the darkening sky.

Is it him?

Fear curls slowly in her chest. Is it the Chancellor? Crowe, maybe? One of their men? She had hoped her life would be ended by now, and yet she has been found. Somehow, they tracked her. Found her. They’re taking her back.

“No,” she whimpers, her voice weak. As strong hands try to turn her over and sit her up, she raises her arms to block them. She has no energy left to fight, but she will not go willingly. She pushes at the figure, so much sturdier than she is, even at her best, and their arms grip her tightly. She tries again, tries pushing away, barely managing to find her legs enough to resist the other person.

“No,” she says again, but it is a cry of desperation. She can’t fight. She can’t win. She reaches for their face, maybe to take an eye out, but instead she finds goggles and a scarf covering their face. She grabs anyway, pulls, attempts to dig her nails in, though her grip is weak.

The scarf slips from their face, and she still can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, or maybe one of the Gods come down to inflict punishment upon her. “Don’t take me back there,” is the last words she can work past her dry lips before her energy gives out on her. She cannot move.

She cannot fight.

There is no more resistance.

All she hopes is that, whoever this is, sees her die before getting her back to the Citadel.