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• Rwby haunted space battles free#

A hint - just the faintest hint - of green.

Rwby haunted space battles free#

She reaches for her hairbrush, raises her free hand and wills a dancing tongue of flame into being. Mercury and Emerald can't know - she's glad none of them had heard her cry out. She walks - no, she is not "stumbling", if her gait is unsteady it's sleep and lingering pain from that little red bitch's damnable eyes, not fear - to the bathroom. Before they see and everything is ruined. What is wrong with me? another thought asks. She closes her eyes and clenches her jaw and fingers until she feels the bones grind together. It casts long warped shadows on the walls. There's just a faint flicker of red light in the room, wafting from her hands and eyes. You must be strong, or I'll put you back where I found you. She clenches her fingers and bites down harder until the shaking stops. She gasps for air and bites the inside of her cheek before she can make a sound. Trembling head to toe, smoke-smudged, buried in ash - her bedding, her nightclothes, her mattress. She's felt this before, eating thought and feeling, flashing everything she is to ash. It's still growing, spreading through the back of her brain. She tries to scream, but there's no air to give it force. Old familiar flame spreads out through her lungs and roasts her insides. The sucking hunger ignites and the world turns cherry-red. But the words are all wrong, everything is wrong, this isn't how it happens, this can't be how-Ī star explodes in her chest. As if from somewhere far away, she hears speaking. Eyes swallow hers - gloating, pitying, proud, the way they'd looked at her all those years ago, the way she'd sworn no one would ever do so again. Get up, her thoughts taunt her, get up, get up get up get up, everything depends on you, you have to be strong, you have to be. Not a champion anymore, not a demigod, not strong - she's tiny again, helpless, broken. All at once the strength vanishes from her limbs. Her legs buckle and she topples onto hands and knees. Their weapons collide in midair, and something strikes home. Ignore Semblance and Aura - no time to drag whatever she has left out. How is her opponent still standing? Invincible, her thoughts taunt her, they called you invincible. Helpless! Weapons everywhere and nothing she can grasp!

Just the hollow, horrible sucking feeling, like she's being ripped inside out. She grabs at her power, grits her teeth, drags every ounce of herself from its deepest depths and hurls it - and nothing comes. She can't be weak or she loses everything. This has been the hardest night of her entire life and it's nowhere near over. Her body is her worst enemy at this point - muscles faltering, legs and arms shaking, vision fuzzy and head pounding and lungs not working hard enough to keep her going. She balls her hands into fists and fights for breath. They stare at each other across a dozen paces of wreckage-strewn tower floor. Curse you, writing imp of the perverse! (Yes, I am utterly hypocritical and I know it.) The mediocrity no one wanted continues!