Flashback to 1799 and Lose it All

[Sethron]

For Your Consideration
.You always wanted people to remember you
Setting: St. Petersburg
.To leave your little mark on society.
Pawns: Aristat
.Don't you know your wish is coming true today?
Time: 1799
.Another victim dies tonight
Status: Acting like a child
.Is she not right? Is she insane?
Writing Assignment: The Sacrifice
.Will she now run for her life in the battle that ends this day..?

Cry wolf. The hounds are coming.

She woke, elbows deep, in another sentient creature. Aristat’s eyes were glazed with the frenzy of the moment, blood doused her lips and her arms and dress. The dead littered the halls of the room--mortals and Kindred lay torn from their coils. Blood stained her vision where her soaked hair fell in front of her eyes.

Her boots dragged stained prints across the beautiful cherry wood floors. She stopped a brief moment and dared to look down. Her eyes were caught on the disembodied head of a comrade and she crumbled like a house of cards into the floor. “I told you to leave. I told you to leave hours ago… why did you not listen?”

The soft sounds of footsteps did not move her. Aristat’s fingers slid over the cold cheeks of her comrade and her fingers coaxed shut the dead eyes, wide in horror.

Let them come. My life for a thousand of their own… Let them die.

Her resolution brought her to her feet as the beast rose within her, but it was not an enemy who found their way up the stairs.

“Hadiyah!” The prince cursed in Russian as she rushed to the dark-skinned Toreador. Her voice was harsh as she closed the distance. She grasped her friend’s shoulders with both hands, crushing the flesh beneath into the bone, “What are you doing here? I told you to flee! Does nobody in this damn place listen?”

“Quiet.” The woman’s voice was calm, but her order was supreme. Aristat’s irritation that the supernatural overflow of her aura was pressuring her to listen was mitigated by her worry at the moment, “The city is dead. The kindred are no more. We are leaving now. You will not argue with me. Jean waits below--we must move swiftly. They hunt us.”

I will not.

She was pulled along, lost in a trance as she lamented.. so close to a century, St. Petersburg had been hers--and now the bodies of the comrades who had taken it were crushed underfoot as her Seneschal dragged her forward.

The end of perfection.

[Ross]

Epic and intense. You create a sense of heroism and urgency in a very short span of words. Good stuff.

-Ross