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Edited by RagingRedhead: 5/26/2020 2:43:52 AM

A Headache and a Weight on Her Shoulders (Story)

The first day Skye woke, someone called her a warrior, in spite of her self-conscious and awkward demeanor. She left the forest with very little knowledge of her past and a horrible headache. It wasn’t long before her eyes were opened to the overwhelming world of Offtopic: she had seen amazing sights and heard unbelievable stories about hell, villains, heroes, and even eldritch frogs. She didn’t dare try to understand the chaos that gave this place its charm. Still, being exposed to so much in such a short amount of time left her with a confidence that she would be prepared to take whatever news that reached her ears no matter its content. But she wasn’t prepared for what Crowley told her that afternoon she stumbled into one of his portals. He told her about a man he met in a swamp, called Errol. No recognition of the name rose within her until she was shown a picture of him. The flashbacks that crossed her mind at the sight of his tired and muddy face were clouded and unfinished. It didn’t unsettle her that Errol had killed four men and was apparently looking for her as much as one would have thought. It wasn’t until Crowley gave her a ride out of hell and back to Offtopic that they were beginning to clear, followed by a sickening pain that welled up in her chest. She wondered how she could have forgotten him. He was one so closely knit to her past that she felt he was more a part of her than her longbow, her most prized possession. Then the blood, the fear, the tears, the weeks spent alone, the gravestone, the crimson beads, the buzzing, the red glow, the darkness, the hateful words, the face she couldn’t remember, the throbbing in her head, the flash of light—all the memories she could scrape up were finally coming together. Only, they revealed the terrible result of her mistakes. She allowed something to happen that rocked both of their lives, then let it sit and worsen like the stench of rotting meat in the kitchen. And now, he was coming for her, and taking his thirst for revenge out on people who had no part in the wrong that was done to him. Skye sat on a log in her makeshift camp in the woods outside the Capital. The evening chill crawled up her spine, yet she didn’t care to revive the fire that had gone out in front of her. She drew up her knees and bowed her aching head. In vain she tried to hold back quiet sobs of fear. Whether Errol wanted to kill her or to sway her into his new way of thinking, she was unsure. But how many more lives would he take before his goal was accomplished, and how many of those would be innocent? What would result of his fallenness, and what would she be able to do about it? She couldn’t help but feel as though blood was on her hands. The weight of it all was heavy upon her shoulders, and she didn’t know if she was able to bear it. [spoiler]Wrote this the other night after an RP with Crowley in PMs. The purpose of this post is mainly just as a story, but if you’d like to pop in as an RP to find out a little more of what happened feel free to. Tips and criticisms are welcome :) Edit: Here’s a link to a story written about Errol himself, in case you’re interested![/spoiler]

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