Fuck Around, Have Fun

6/28/22 - Arríbada

They put her in a prison as broken as she is. Though, not broken in the way glass shatters. Not in the way walls of kingdoms crumble with age. With lack of care. The destruction here was purposeful. The more destroyed, the harder it was to escape. So it sat, underwater, stuck in a limbo, broken. More broken than the world above ground had ever seen.

Beneath the broken prison, laid a misshapen maiden. Maiden, because there was one thing that differentiated her from any other being in the world of the Arribana.

As she struggled to wake herself in the morning, she brushed fragments of her floating outer skull out of her vision.

A maiden. A woman of war. Equipped with the most protection biology had ever given any Aribiana. She was meant to be a fierce warrior. She'd been chiseled down to a literal skeleton of herself.

As she rose from a bed that had been completely soaked through from the humidity, she winced as she stretched. Flowers had been growing where her skeleton broke off. A signature of life after death. She wasn't dead, but she might as well have been. The feelings of stems intertwining with her skin was a subtle, but constant burning reminder, she was only half of what she once was.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she made her way through her drenched that was draped on all sides of her make shift wooden room. Enchanted, despite the rotting wood, to never collapse. It was just sound enough to give guaranteed splinters whenever flesh hit the surface. Something a whole maiden wouldn't have to worry about.

Franesca stumbled down the rotted wood path, making her way to the end of the semi circle that made up her home. That had made up her home for 3 months. She stole a peak at the water just below her, and jerked back as thirteen feet of tentacles burst through the water's surface, vexed that she dared lay her eyes on it's egotistical being.

"So glad to see you too," she mumbled. It growled its response. The feeling of its bellied shrieks reverberating through the sanctuary like morse code. It didn't take long to understand its language. It was that of neanderthals. "Can't break what's already been destroyed," she said, and got up again, staring at the large beam of light in the center of the water.

The familiar buzzing noise filled her ears like blood in her mouth. The sound itself had a taste. Sour. It felt like the buzzing of bees was a sense itself. A subtle torture that the Klan had spent so much time trying to perfect for its guests.