The earth is careening straight down the tracks to hell and the humans are at fault.
Trapped in the dungeons of an ancient burial grounds and tortured to the brink of insanity, the God and Goddess of balance have been separated, unleashing a terrib...
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Minutes.
My ankles drink up the sea in exchange for my strength. Strategically taking a step forward, I hear a few growls.
"I left on my own terms, which I suggest you do the same."
A polite air weaves through my words even though the warning is obvious. Most of the males snicker in the front. Thirteen to fourteen figures stand before the water, largely masculine. There are two sources of dense estrogen though their presence is shaded among burly figures. One even bears her cycle.
The one speaking is a scraggly blonde with little more to offer than words. He doesn't smell of sickness, but his build is weak and unforgivingly thin. A large white shirt hangs from his chest and the denim pants are caked in dirt.
"This is our territory, Sweetheart," he sneers at me. "Didn't you have anywhere else to get off?"
Tick one.
I'll kill him.
"No one has territory, imbecile. The earth is the earth and this planet has rejected your existence."
The disgust at the bottom of my gut flares up again and swallows the entirety of my abdomen. Deep breathes can only get me so far when the repulsive look on his face doesn't fade.
"Look, Lady, I'm only going to be nice for so long, you need to get back on your boat and go somewhere else."
A low growl slowly turns into a purr as I drag my weakening frame out of the water. The contents of the ocean cling to me energetically and I feel the emotional tug. Sadness has to fuel my rage though, as quickly sinking as it is. When my shoes dig into the sand, heat fills my frame and starts to evaporate the remaining water from my skin. The faint smoke appearance shakes the few that notice it against the blue current.
My back erects with the strength of dry land, knee's repairing in seconds.
"What will you do if I don't comply?" I ask, baring my teeth almost playfully.
The man's hair flops in front of his face and he replies with a low grin, laughter curling in the back of his throat. "I'd say we'd make you, but I'd be lying with such a pretty young thing like you."
Tick two.
Breathe.
He comes up close, inches away from me now with a tall enough frame to look down on me. His breath brushes my cheeks and I sense nothing but stale alcohol and bread. The illness hasn't infected him yet, though some of the others weren't so lucky.
"I wouldn't do anything too risky, boy," I spit on his lips. "I've got a man at home and he won't be very pleased."
His hand slowly reaches around to my butt as he smirks and whispers in my ear. "You're not going home."
Tick three.
You're going to die.
A scream echoes out across the flat land in all directions. Two seconds passed. One to grab his wrist, the other to twist it so hard around his back the arm snaps like a fragile twig. Floored by the pain, I release and kick his face into the dirt so hard unconsciousness isn't a forethought.
