Elite's Writing

[Elite]

Yo~ Elite here. As the title suggests, this is a thread for all the various writing I have. Feel free to critique anything, as I'm sure any sort of commentary will help, especially with me. xD

Also, to make commenting on things easier, I'll give every piece a title, as well as warnings and 'author's notes', so I at least reduce the number of people I scar. xD;

For those interested in reading my writing elsewhere, check out my FictionPress and/or FanFiction account(s?).

[Elite]

(( Title: Witch Heart
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: death/killing, though nothing graphic; I think there was a swear somewhere
A/N: A portion of what I wrote during the July session of Camp NaNoWriMo. I won (wrote 50000 words of crud), had a lot of fun, and learned what I liked to write best (action scenes ftw!). However, I wrote the whole thing in three days, so there was no pause to read over what I wrote when I was writing, and I haven't quite edited since finishing it. Actually, I only like the first half (of the whole story, not this piece), so it will undoubtedly be rewritten. I mean seriously, Faer, you fall in love with ANCILLA?! What was I thinking? Dx
Anyways, this is the first thing I started writing. I had no idea where I was going with this other than 'witch want destroy world'. I still haven't the slightest as to WHY. :I But it was fun writing, nonetheless. xD
Also, sorry if this is considered too, er... 'bad'. It's darker, but not graphic (in my opinion). Just a tiny bit of blood. I also apologize for this A/N being so long. orz ))

Green sparks trickled from the witch’s fingertips into the god’s heart, and within moments, his body became limp. He gave one last ragged gasp, but it was no use. He was dead.

She had done the impossible.

The crowd behind her roared. “Kill the witch! Kill the witch!”

She turned, licking the blood--her own blood--trailing down the side of her mouth. She stared at them. Then blinked. In that split-second, a feral glint appeared in her already intimidating violet eyes.

The crowd’s chanting died down until it was completely silent. The only thing heard was the witch’s footsteps as she ambled closer to them. They stood there for a moment, as if they had forgotten the witch had just killed a god, but seemed to remember once she reached the bottom of the temple’s steps; the women quickly scurried off with their children, not expecting to see their husbands at the dinner table that night. The men stood their ground, striking what they believed to be a fighting pose. A scarce few among them truly understood the mechanics of battle, and it showed. One of them attempted to throw a punch, and to his surprise, it landed. All the men, he included, stared in awe. More blood pooled in the witch’s mouth and began dribbling down the sides of her mouth.

“That wasn’t a smart thing to do, human.” She spat, sending flecks of red to the wet cobblestone street. Green sparks began tingling over her mouth. The men stared in horror.

“Magic! She’s using her magic again!” one cried out. They all looked at each other, wondering if they should run or not.

The one who punched her, however, stayed his ground and stared the witch down. “I ain’t afraid of ‘er.”

The witch smirked. “Oh really? You know, where I come from, there’s this saying: There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.” Her hands began trickling with the green magic again. All the men but the one who punched her backed away, wide-eyed. “But in this case,” she continued, licking at the blood again, “there’s nothing to fear but Faer herself.” With that, she grabbed the man’s shirt, magic into its fibers. The magic washed over him like static, trailing over his chest and seeping into his heart, just as it did to the god. He could feel the magic entering him, sparking his heart on fire. It started beating strongly, erratically--and then stopped. He dropped down, limp.

A man screamed. They all ran.

“Feh. Petty lot, you all are,” she called out after them. Once they were gone, she sighed and sank to her knees. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, and she choked on her own blood. Killing a god was much easier than she thought it would be, but it certainly wasn’t painless. In fact, this was the most pain she’s been in in her entire life. She looked at the now dead man, staring at her with the same wide eyes before he died. “Nice, hey?” she said, the tiny twinges of a smirk coming to her face. She didn’t want to have caused such a ruckus, but that’s what it came to. A man was dead. But that was what needed to be done, right? She needed to kill him, if she were ever going to complete her goal.

She stood up warily, swaying a bit. Her head was spinning, and down seemed to be up. She continued bumbling on though, leaving the dead man to rot on the cobblestone streets. He didn’t matter to her. She continued on, out of town and into the wilderness. The plants were snaking around the trees and everything was pitch black with night. She didn’t know how much longer she could take this. With step after step, she willed herself to continue. Though her magic had healed every wound she encountered as soon as she got them, the pain was not dulled. If anything, it was intensified. She winced as she walked on what used to be a sprained ankle, the echoes of the pain she endured still lingering. “Bloody hell,” she spat. She wouldn’t die. No witch would ever die, thanks to their magic. No, they were immortal. Faer, however, wanted more than immortality, or rather, she wanted true immortality. This world would never forget her. Then again, she would be the one to destroy it.

“Faer,” a voice whispered.

Faer did nothing, gazing at the starless night. For some reason, the sky was bright, plagued with a magenta aurora.

“Faer,” the voice came again, louder and probably closer. Faer didn’t flinch. Her body was sore. She didn’t want to move. She couldn’t move. She felt someone put their hand on her shoulder. “Faer. Dammit, what did you do?”

“I killed a god,” Faer replied, a smile creeping upon her lips. Her heart began beating faster, coursing adrenaline through her veins. Just thinking about what she had accomplished was exhilarating. “I killed a god.”

“You’ll get us killed,” the other whispered. The person finally came in view. A young man, also a witch-- though he preferred the term “warlock”-- turned her to face him, clutching her shoulders. He looked deeply into her eyes. “We can’t stay here.”

“You can go,” Faer replied. “I’m not leaving. Not until I finish what I’ve started.”

“You’re an idiot, Faer. I want you to know that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Faer’s eyes glanced over the scenery with a bored expression. “So, you going to leave, or what?”

The young man hesitated, looking at her, then back towards the shore where his ship lay anchored. “I’m coming back for you.”

“I won’t be here.”

The young man sighed. “Fine.” He still stood though, staring at Faer. Faer was staring now at the moon, dyed a crimson red. “Are you really going to do it?” he finally asked.

Another pause, this one briefer. Faer gave a smile, a reassuring one. “Of course.”

Shivers ran down his spine. “You’re serious?”

“I killed a god, didn’t I?” Yet another pause. Faer pushed him. “Go. I don’t need you anymore. Go!”

The young man stumbled a bit after being pushed. He looked back at Faer, and then ran towards the shore. “Good riddance,” Faer muttered. She slipped a ring off her finger and dropped it, letting it get tangled in the foliage.

(( ... I can't stop laughing at this. xD ))