Break ((Solo))
Aug 27, 2017 21:20:37 GMT -6
Post by Armitage Apolithymius on Aug 27, 2017 21:20:37 GMT -6
Armitage felt hollow. She thought of her family. Their legacy. Whenever she tried to ascribe a feeling to it she felt numb. Nothing. There was a point in time when she would have considered it her legacy too. Is that truly how I feel? It would be easy to say her legs felt tired but, more accurately, they felt like nothing. She had walked a long time. After she finished that walk she continued to walk even further. Her legs carried past the point of exhaustion and now her legs felt like entirely separate beings from her body. Their movement was purely mechanical and she thought very little of them. She was unsure of how many days it had been. Nor could she remember the last time she ate or drank. If she thought really hard she could remember finishing the last of her canteen and dropping it earlier in the day.
Where’s the sun… The last time she was truly lucid it was daylight out. Now the darkness was oppressive. It was cloudy out and the heat of the night was mixing with the humidity to create a light fog in the distance. There was some light breaking its way through the clouds—the moon and all of its smaller sisters were persistent that way—but it wasn’t enough to truly light her path. This would be the point when any person in their right mind would camp or find shelter. Armitage was long past the point of caring what the elements did to her or her belongings. Not that she had much of those left to speak of.
Armitage had been laid bare and shed most of her outer shell to reflect that. He armor was all but gone; broken, battered, destroyed and otherwise sundered. Her gambeson was a deep red but the color had been nearly beaten out of it. It was cut and ripped in places, revealing her rough and scarred flesh beneath. Her trousers were well tailored and tight. They fit well under her armor and were strategically flexible to not hinder maneuverability. Her leather boots were well worn and comfortable, but were she walking completely barefoot at this moment she would fail to notice. Her body had been fixed but something was still badly broken inside of her. With armor and weapon destroyed, Armitage felt like a different person. Different and somehow far less like a person than she had been before. There was something missing and it was beginning to dawn on her that she may never get it back. She had wrapped up her family’s heirloom armor and her quest so closely to her identity that, now that they were gone, she barely felt like she could be a person anymore.
Apolithymius was more than a name. Its legacy—its weight—had been grafted onto her soul. It was becoming painstakingly clear that Armitage didn’t think of herself as a singular person but, rather an extension of generation’s worth of lineage. Her self-worth was tied directly into how worthy she felt of bearing that burden. Right now she felt worthless. Worse than that actually, as if she owed worth to her lineage. If such a thing were possible. Like she could work part of her lifetime to try to earn worth only to still owe a debt to the bloodline Apolithymius. The past few years have been a culmination of increasingly frustrating waste. Wasted time. Wasted effort. All for nothing. The more she thought about it, the more frustrating that thought had become. She had not a single thing to show for the last few years of blood, sweat, and tears.
Both sets of armor were now lost to her. Her own set busted and shattered, broken to pieces. Her weapon gone along with it. It was hard to even remember the series of events that led to their loss. Thinking about them now made her head hurt. She raised a palm and pressed it to her eyeball. It felt weird to feel her hand touching her face. Skin on skin. She had been living inside of her own armor for so long she almost forgot what it felt like to touch something with her own fingers. The feeling was alien to her but so had everything else been for the last few hours, days since she lost her armor. Any time she tried to think about it all she got for her efforts was a world blurring headache. Once the gates of thought were open every worry, insecurity, and reflection raced into her head. It felt like her brain was a waterskin that was already stretching beyond capacity. Thinking made the cracks start to show.
Armitage banished the thoughts that filled her head. She held on to a precious few to chew and ponder on. How had her journey began? She couldn’t remember exactly. She was hurt. Hurt worse than ever before. Once her legs could support her weight she started walking. Everything since then was a blur. Holding her hand to her face, Armitage realized her palm was wet. Had it been raining? She touched her own face plaintively. It took her a moment to realize she had been crying. Or maybe still was. She felt so out of touch. Everything around her, including her own body and movements, felt surreal. A part of her mind felt like any moment she was just going to ‘snap back’ to being normal. Maybe all of this was just an out of body experience or nightmare. An even deeper part of her desperately wished for it to be true.
Her pace slowed and she let her eyes drift toward the sky. She searched for stars. Direction. Anything. A deep breath escaped her lips and it came out as a soft shudder. With her face turned skyward and the cool wind blowing against her face she could feel the tears forging a path from her eyes to the edges of her face. A light rainfall began. It touched her lightly on the head, cheeks, and shoulders before falling more vigorously. Inhaling deeply, Armitage let her vision lose focus as she felt the rain. A moment later she was pressing forward again, directionless like a raft without a rudder.
Where’s the sun… The last time she was truly lucid it was daylight out. Now the darkness was oppressive. It was cloudy out and the heat of the night was mixing with the humidity to create a light fog in the distance. There was some light breaking its way through the clouds—the moon and all of its smaller sisters were persistent that way—but it wasn’t enough to truly light her path. This would be the point when any person in their right mind would camp or find shelter. Armitage was long past the point of caring what the elements did to her or her belongings. Not that she had much of those left to speak of.
Armitage had been laid bare and shed most of her outer shell to reflect that. He armor was all but gone; broken, battered, destroyed and otherwise sundered. Her gambeson was a deep red but the color had been nearly beaten out of it. It was cut and ripped in places, revealing her rough and scarred flesh beneath. Her trousers were well tailored and tight. They fit well under her armor and were strategically flexible to not hinder maneuverability. Her leather boots were well worn and comfortable, but were she walking completely barefoot at this moment she would fail to notice. Her body had been fixed but something was still badly broken inside of her. With armor and weapon destroyed, Armitage felt like a different person. Different and somehow far less like a person than she had been before. There was something missing and it was beginning to dawn on her that she may never get it back. She had wrapped up her family’s heirloom armor and her quest so closely to her identity that, now that they were gone, she barely felt like she could be a person anymore.
Apolithymius was more than a name. Its legacy—its weight—had been grafted onto her soul. It was becoming painstakingly clear that Armitage didn’t think of herself as a singular person but, rather an extension of generation’s worth of lineage. Her self-worth was tied directly into how worthy she felt of bearing that burden. Right now she felt worthless. Worse than that actually, as if she owed worth to her lineage. If such a thing were possible. Like she could work part of her lifetime to try to earn worth only to still owe a debt to the bloodline Apolithymius. The past few years have been a culmination of increasingly frustrating waste. Wasted time. Wasted effort. All for nothing. The more she thought about it, the more frustrating that thought had become. She had not a single thing to show for the last few years of blood, sweat, and tears.
Both sets of armor were now lost to her. Her own set busted and shattered, broken to pieces. Her weapon gone along with it. It was hard to even remember the series of events that led to their loss. Thinking about them now made her head hurt. She raised a palm and pressed it to her eyeball. It felt weird to feel her hand touching her face. Skin on skin. She had been living inside of her own armor for so long she almost forgot what it felt like to touch something with her own fingers. The feeling was alien to her but so had everything else been for the last few hours, days since she lost her armor. Any time she tried to think about it all she got for her efforts was a world blurring headache. Once the gates of thought were open every worry, insecurity, and reflection raced into her head. It felt like her brain was a waterskin that was already stretching beyond capacity. Thinking made the cracks start to show.
Armitage banished the thoughts that filled her head. She held on to a precious few to chew and ponder on. How had her journey began? She couldn’t remember exactly. She was hurt. Hurt worse than ever before. Once her legs could support her weight she started walking. Everything since then was a blur. Holding her hand to her face, Armitage realized her palm was wet. Had it been raining? She touched her own face plaintively. It took her a moment to realize she had been crying. Or maybe still was. She felt so out of touch. Everything around her, including her own body and movements, felt surreal. A part of her mind felt like any moment she was just going to ‘snap back’ to being normal. Maybe all of this was just an out of body experience or nightmare. An even deeper part of her desperately wished for it to be true.
Her pace slowed and she let her eyes drift toward the sky. She searched for stars. Direction. Anything. A deep breath escaped her lips and it came out as a soft shudder. With her face turned skyward and the cool wind blowing against her face she could feel the tears forging a path from her eyes to the edges of her face. A light rainfall began. It touched her lightly on the head, cheeks, and shoulders before falling more vigorously. Inhaling deeply, Armitage let her vision lose focus as she felt the rain. A moment later she was pressing forward again, directionless like a raft without a rudder.