Beneath The Surface

First Plot Point 7 - You're dripping with pain.

Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia

Astaroth's POV
Soft squelching sound echoed in the silent corridor leading out of the arena. Underneath the tattered and singed clothes, black goo creeped over Astaroth's skin, covering the bloody hole in her left palm as well as wrapping around her fatally bruised neck. Usually, her grandfather would have waited for them to be in a deserted area before healing her injuries, but fixing the fractured bones in Astaroth's neck couldn't be delayed for any second longer. The inky substance filled the cavity in her hand as it reconnected torn tissues and muscles. Meanwhile, broken bones in her neck were mended and slowly pushed back into place.

Throughout the whole agonising process, Astaroth didn't scream. Nor did she react much, really. She just continued limping forward while planning her next move. In a fit of rage, Astaroth had stupidly lost control of her emotions and ended up ruining her perfect plan. So now she's trying to salvage as much as she can. Maybe she could say she really mistook the girl for a sworn enemy. Or perhaps she could brush it off as an act of self-defence. After all, that traitor was the one who attacked first.

*Are you stupid, girl??? Or do you have a death wish???*

"I thought I told you not to interfere???" Astaroth hissed at the reminder of her nosy grandfather meddling in her emotional picturesque reunion.

*And when I don't, what do you do??? Get yourself stabbed, your neck broken and poisoned by some dumb dart???*

She rolled her eyes at its overreaction. That dumb old man sometimes loved to blow things out of proportion.

Cough! Cough!

Astaroth wiped the blackened blood oozing from her mouth and nose as her grandfather worked doubly quick to expel the residual venom.

*If it weren't for me, you would have long died!*

"No, I won't. It's only magic. Your skin would have protected me just fine," she retorted.

Astaroth only heard a long and exasperated sigh.

*That woman's not using magic. It's concentrated Void plasma. Right now, I'm not strong enough to block that. It will definitely blow a hole through you.*

"And what about it?" she shot back.

Astaroth's clearly not getting the gravity of a bloody hole through a human's body. Or maybe she did. But she just doesn't see a problem with dying. Knowing that it couldn't get through the dense skull of its thickheaded host, the voice in Astaroth's head stopped trying to convince the girl that dying was bad.

While patiently waiting for the dull prickly sensation called pain to dissipate, the girl absent-mindedly fished out a small trinket from her pocket. It's a bangle with a small pink flower attached to it. The hoop glittered with its real gold, the pink sapphire's finely cut edges shining beautifully in the light. The accessory didn't always look this glamorous. Nor was it always worth such a hefty sum. It used to be a cheap plastic thing. But Astaroth had taken great care of it like it's the world's most precious jewel, wearing it religiously, only taking it off to give it the daily polishing it deserved. It used to be her most prized possession.

Now... not so much anymore. Not after the betrayal she suffered from the person who gifted this to her. Not after Kali lied to her. She clearly promised that if Astaroth ever needed her, a squeeze of this dumb thing would let her know she's in trouble. But on that fateful night, no matter how hard she pressed the thing into her palm, cutting her flesh in the process, Kali never came back. That traitor had undoubtedly abandoned them for greener grass. And the reality of being played like this had crushed her soul. It's the first time in a long time since Astaroth truly felt that the world was cruel. Especially to her. After realising how stupid she was to fall for such tricks, she didn't wear it anymore. It would have been as good as spitting in the face of her sister. A cardinal sin.