Ourea

What?

Twenty one pilots is awesome, reading 'Clearing things up' might be useful as you read. This story might be confusing now but all will get explained.

As always, I regenerate as a body of nature, but I didn't think that a tree would be my first option. I mean, I'm not exactly a tree person. Sure they're beautiful but what do trees even do? 'Oh hey John, how are the leaves growing? How's the wife and kids?' Shifting is the absolute worst inconvenience. I try to recall everything before the change but all that comes to mind is Broussard standing over top of me with his blade drawn in a valley deep in Greece. Before I know it I'm brought back into a gruesome flashback.

Flashback

'Don't worry, Gaea can help you.'

I ponder over his stupid comment as he thrust his sword downwards, my skin sizzles and bubbles from the gash. The cursed blade was given to him by Atlas himself, forged by the Giants in one of their many caves. Why satans's spawn needed it, I'll never know.

Just the feeling of the gorgon's blood stings enough to make you pass out, but of course he had to go that extra mile by stabbing me through my arm. The blood pools around me, soaking my white cotton tunic in red gooey liquid. It's always the Greeks who gotta kill. Slash, slash, slash. Just cut to the chase and stab my heart. (Haha, that pun tho...)

'Drako was a low class morosoph. I'm glad he died, straight to the Fields of Punishment in Hell.' He said.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand. I don't speak rat.'

Boy did that tick him off, that's what he deserves for insulting my brother. I'm mean, he was deceased for goodness sakes! In all honesty, Drako had gone to the worst place in the Underworld by total accident. The only way he could have gotten there is if he did some bad stuff, which he didn't, or if someone cursed him with magic, most likely. And if you really wanted to know, I've placed my bets that Broussard had done it.

At last the rodent puts his retched foot on my throat as I whisper 'I detest scum', my throat burning from the lack of oxygen. I may be a lot of things but stubborn is still one of them.

Wham! The heel of his sandal bruises my abdomen, and then my arm. I wince from the agonizing torment and tears roll out the corners of my eyes. Pain is the only thing he knows, Broussard is beyond repair. He lacks sympathy, and I'm pretty sure he was dropped as a baby. Maybe that has something to do with the dent behind his ear.

I make an attempt to stand up, my good arm pushing off the ground. He knees me in the gut sending me sprawling backwards. My head hits the stone wall, and I crumple to the ground as everything spins.

'Get up Angelica, fight me like a real warrior would. Or would the maiden like to be killed right here, the outskirts of her city? Hm?' He mocks. Broussard lifts my chin with his sword, the poison dripping onto my lap.

I struggle to stand up but make it to my feet, my mahaira raised weakly. His double sided blade swings through the air and I barely block his hit with the flat of my sword.

'I can't believe a mortal thinks she can beat me. So pathetic.' He taunts.

'A demigod challenges me? I must be so lucky.' I say sarcastically, pulling away, backing up to the wall again. He has that irritable smirk. It makes me want to kill him.

'This cursed blade will be the end of you Angelica, and I doubt that you can change your fate.'

'ThIs cUrSed BlaDe wIll Be ThE eNd Of YoU.' Oh really? He's got some nerve. I look to my left, nothing. Then to my right, nothing. I, Angelica Lias, will not be killed by a traitor. Especially by a guy with the inane name of Broussard. Rodents like him need to be exterminated.