"Without chaos, there can be no order, but chaos and order are all the same. Not one person can decide what is chaos and what is not - because our chaos is completely different from someone elses, just like how your evil is different to mine."
Thi...
CRIMSON pooled down the streets in an afterglow of events, her eyes were drawn to the scene as if a moth drawn towards light. The town was barren; wooden palisade completely destroyed as a result of the events that had unfolded moments earlier. Dead had littered the streets as if the scene was utterly normal, however, Edith knew she was the only one left standing. A lone survivor nestled in within the chaos surrounding her, a chaos she accidentally created. Her eyes were filled with infinite tears, begging, urging for a release she refused. Edith would not cry in the face of death, no, instead she faced it with a bravery she knew not before this point.
His hair was a deathly white; eyes bulging from the inhuman colour of yellow. A yellow she hadn't seen before that screamed the promise of death. What Gods would save her now? She asked and she knew the answer - none. No Gods would save her from the silver blade glistening tauntingly in the night. No Gods would save her from the grasp of the Witcher, simply because she deserved what was coming, and she was sure he knew it too from the tight stance and eyes that screamed death.
She didn't want to die - Edith was scared to die, and as she stood there she debated fleeing from the events that would soon unfold, but she put a brave face on. She put a brave face on as she knew no matter the outcome she would be back - in a different life, maybe in a different time, but she knew she would be back.
"Geralt of Rivia, I suppose," she started, mouth parched with suspense "I was told you would come for me."
He stared, grip tightening on his blade as if he expected her to pounce. He debated his next move; he could either get it over with quickly or take the girl, or whatever it was with him. Geralt didn't know exactly what creature she was - even if she was a monster, she was a wolf in sheeps clothing, but he had a rough idea from the events he had witnessed. She looked like an ordinary girl, except for the blood coating her like she was a canvas as result of the aftermath.
Edith watched, waited for the Witcher to move - for the Witcher to strike as she stood barefoot in the empty town, blood splattered over her attire in an array of tones and colours that highlighted the massacre that had occurred moments, minutes before his arrival.
"A-Am I a monster?" She asked, and Geralt knew the answer straight away.
"Yes." His tone was so full of conviction that even she began to believe it - even if Edith didn't want to. But she knew the truth, and so did Geralt but that didn't mean the truth didn't sting any less. She didn't want to be a monster.. Geralt knew this, too. But it didn't change anything. It didn't change the large sum of money hanging over her head like a reaper - because she was nothing more than a pouch of coin to Geralt, and he felt no sympathy admitting this fact either.
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Geralt approached her like she was a frightened animal, and maybe she was one, but she stayed scarily still, breaths coming out in a fear of what awaited. A fear of death approaching her as shivers racked her body. I will come back, in a different life, a happy life with a family still alive - a family that would be happy to see me with a label that wasn't 'monster.'Don't be afraid - don't be afraid. The mantra did nothing to calm her nerves, and the funeral drum inside her chest quickened its pace to 0.
"I-I'm scared to die, Witcher.." She admitted; which he ignored as he was now feet away from her, gazing on her form without regret of what was to come, only with a regret what of she had become.
His weapon gleamed in the light, gloved hands gripping it with conviction.
"Close your eyes." And she did without an ounce of hesitation. Edith did not want to see her death, no, Edith wanted to live like any other person or creature - but that option was taken away from her because of what she was, despite having no say in the matter. In a quick jolt she felt the pain invade her chest before she quickly felt nothing at all. Geralt had granted her the mercy of a quick death, because that was the only mercy he could grant her, however, when her body became limp and her heartbeat stopped, he somehow knew that this wasn't the end.
