The Civilian

XIX

Cold, everything is so fucking cold. Gods this was worse than the one time Denzel had managed to lock you out of the house in the middle of a snowstorm. You were trying to remember the reason that he had locked you out of the house.

You felt this way the day that military officials walked up to the front porch. You had only been out there to talk with Xion. She was silent, confused on what was going on. On the other hand, you lost control of your emotions, you knew what those uniforms meant. You had seen others like them before going to your neighbors.

It was odd, after that day everything felt cold. Not loss of warmth but like a cold, icy gaze was always sitting on your back. That icy fingers were about to reach out from the darkness to snatch you away.

Slowly you opened your eyes and just stared. Sinking into the abyss of the ocean, debris was sinking right next to you. Other bodies, some lifeless ― it was easy to tell the way that light pink was seeping from underneath them, tainting the water.

Weightless and tired you just wanted to close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Sinking further into the darkness, there was an iron clasped grip around your wrist and suddenly you were being yanked forward. Forcing your eyes to see in the dim light, all that you could see was red fabric. Then the heat of fire was blasted around your face.

Your mind kicked into overdrive and sputtered out salt water, feeling snot running out of your nose. Kicking feet and paddling toward the sand, wood floated in the upset waves of the ocean.

There were screams and orders being yelled. Dragging yourself out of the water and onto the sand as it clung to you uncomfortably. You looked up to see people in a panic, hundreds of locals and tourists running away from other people wearing armor and carrying guns.

Staggering to your feet you couldn't understand what was going on. There were airships and then there were bombs. You were thrown into the water and ready to accept the idea of drowning.

Now you were staring at what would be the conception of a brand new war. Tears pricked at the inner corners of your eyes. Eleven years, eleven long years everyone was living in peace and now it was starting. All over again.

A soldier stopped abruptly, his head piece turning slightly with three red dots glowing like a haunt in the darkness. You watched as one by one the dots lit up lime green. "We found her." You could hear the man's voice whisper into what you assumed to be a headpiece.

A new rage was bubbling upside inside of you and it was starting to spill out in small colourful wisps. At first they appeared colourful then slowly turning a sickly purple-black. Your father's blade materialized into your hand, the long blade's tip sat in the sand.

"You bet your fucking ass you did." You snarled before running quickly at the soldier, the horrendous gurgling sound of blood sitting in his throat echoed in the night as you sunk the blade into his body.

Yanking it out sounded even sicker, the soldier's body fell lifeless into the sand. Paying no mind to the blood soaked sand walking off into the city.

Your mind wa blank of everything, you weren't concerned about finding Cissnei or anyone else in the group. Instead you just wanted to wipe Port Royale of these people ― if they even held the right anymore to be considered humans

One by one they fell to your blade, locals would stop running to stare at you. Their eyes were glued to the splotches of blood soaked up by your clothes. They were long since dried of the salt water, fire danced merrily along your blade. You didn't even pay attention to when your magic had flared to that height.