Karishma and Karla Quadir.
The Church of Armageddon: St. Peter's Basilica Obelisk,
The year 2173.
Towering spires reaching high into the sky, sprawling were the marble pillars holding up the ceilings to create the ring around St. Peter's Obelisk. Circling, rounding about like ripples in a pond, connecting pale stones to the outward edges, burnt from flamethrowers. Bits of sharp granite scattered on the ground around the obelisk in Karishma's path, she kicked them behind her, rolling her eyes. Karla felt the rocks collide with her shins where she walked.
Karishma stopped in her tracks before the obelisk. At the very top was the only cross left here. She placed her fingertips on the smooth stone, slowly letting her hand slide closer, feeling every little hole and coarse sensation against the palm of her hand. Stone-faced, and without a breath, she scanned her arms. Buried under the winding branches the Church of Armageddon tattooed onto her, slashes both small and large covered her arms. As she did, she pressed her fingertips down, applying greater and greater pressure as she clenched her teeth.
"On your feet, Karishma!"
Her father's voice was like screeching metal.
***
Karishma Quadir.
The Church of Armageddon: Cologne Cathedral Courtyards,
The year 2145.
CRACK!
POP!
-Karishma's head snapped to the right as her father right-crossed her, following up with a jab breaking her nose. Stern-faced, eyes focused, both of their hands bloody, her vision spun as she tumbled to the ground, catching the blood pouring from her mouth and nose in her hand. "I didn't say stop."
She looked up as soon as he spoke.
Her father's face was rugged, thick bearded with a certain cynicism in his eyes looking down on his child. Brown eyes stared widely in a perpetual state of anger, unwilling to wipe the blood from his split-open knuckles. "Get up, now." He grunted. Karishma scowled, spitting out the blood pooling in her mouth, the copper taste lingering. Her teeth were tinted red.
Around her, little jagged, sharp rocks surrounded by translucent marron energy began to lift by her father's side. One cut through the air-
SLIT!
-Karishma grunted in pain as the rock sliced her arm, the tenth cut today.
"I won't ask again, Karishma. Am I to believe you are the weakling I take you for? Do you kneel before those unworthy of life..." Her father asked, waving his hand for her to stand, his short black hair waving in the wind as his eyes squinted. Karishma slammed her hand onto the ground, closing it, grabbing loose soil in her hands as it coated her wet skin.
"...Or, are you a Quadir?-"
-Karishma picked herself up in a sudden burst of violet energy, flinging herself forward as she drew a knife from her belt, the blade making to stab him through his neck-
-Until nothing. Karishma's blade was frozen, with her father's hand up, his fingers tattooed midnight black. A maroon psychic energy surrounded the blade, holding it hostage. Their eyes met with the same hatred as Karishma exhaled, trembling. "Hm. Please-"
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Mother Earth.
Science Fiction"I want to create a better world where no one hurts each other, to foster a place where love doesn't have to make hate, where no one hurts or kills anybody. A world where I don't have to hurt anybody anymore." The First Dawn has concluded; Children...
