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Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on Jun 28, 2012 19:06:16 GMT -6
"Once upon a time there was a princess promised to be married in a ceremony, He took her hand gently.The soft touch of his skin became a soothing sensation over her trembling skin. They walked slowly, as though time was their companion. The sun had waved its adieu as Coyolxauhqui nodded in agreement when her brother went to sleep. "With a such a great honor, she was led to a temple." The gods danced around in the reunion. The stars shined brightly above them. The wind blew softly, making melodies as it swung in circle to the dance. The earth beneath them, ever so fertile, enjoyed the calm steps of their bare feet. The trees enjoyed in their different postures, each as magnificent as the rest, and the leaves sang along the voice of the air. Each prepared for the moment when he would give her away. The wonderers stopped at the steps of the temple. They would have to walk every step to the top. But before they continued Aztec took her hand and turned her around to face her. He placed his warm hand over her cheek, stroking it softly. Under the moonlight she looked like a goddess. His daughter. Beautiful and calm, with the delicacy of her mother. He waited to enjoy the moment, waited once more before he would have to give her away.
As he looked deep into her chocolate brown eyes, he knew she had something new to tell him. They should get going then, prepare herself. She shouldn't be afraid. For if she waited any longer it might be too late. Who is he? Where did he fall in love in you? Where is he from? What does he say to make you smile? Could I ask him, why is he taking something so precious from me? He helped her fix her dress. He helped her when she asked. He would be waiting at the top, and he, Aztec, had become so jealous of losing her. Smile. He shouldn't know she had cried. Leave. Give the one who took care of you some time to say goodbye. One step to the top, then another. He kissed her cheek gently, took her hand and together they did. "Her father was invited to the ceremony. But the princess skin was no longer hers. She had been sacrificed, her heart ripped out.
When they reached the top, Spain stood waiting patiently for when Aztec would hand her to him. He couldn't deny this was the hardest thing he ever had to do. He took a step closer to him. Spain extended his hand and Aztec placed hers on top. "The father could not understand the honor his daughter had been given. Sacrifices to the gods were made in order to ensure the continuation of their world. A world that came to its end under the hands of a stranger. And Aztec could never say goodbye.
Mexico's eyes burst open. Her pupils shrunk with the sudden movement. She felt as though she had been summited to electric shock. She was raging with vitality. Slowly, she forced her body to move. She felt unaware of were she was or how she had gotten there. Her memory seemed to be concealed in a place she did not posses access to. When she sat up, she felt an immediate breeze of piercing cold air brush through every inch of her body. It was almost enough to make her fall down again, As she became more and more aware her head began to press against the inside of her skull. Well, at least so it seemed. The pain was almost unbearable, like she had been kicked countless times. A small defenseless puppy, all alone in the streets.
She tried to curse under her breath but no words came out. Mexico cleared her throat once, cleared her throat twice, a third time before she could fully manage to express words. She was outside in the courtyard, once laying down unconscious. As though her body had been dumped there after the deed was done. She wondered for a moment that if she had not possess the ability to sleep so thoroughly she would been aware of what had happened to her. But the answer was obvious. No, not really. Mexico sighed for a moment and for the second time slowly sat up. The headache which was slowly turning into a migraine seemed to be repercussion of her dream. It had been a dream, hadn't it? Because, what else could it be? The story had not been told that way. The story did not leave a knot in her stomach the size of Texas. Did not leave a tear in her eye. What was her mind playing at.
Loss and abandonment. She knew of nothing more. Those two words pressed heavily against her. They were easily linked with betrayal. Why did she fear betrayal? Silly fear that was. She did not fear betrayal as much as she feared loss. This is how it feels to be alone in the darkness. Scared, abandoned, underneath the surface. The voices gently scowling from the distance. Was it still a war when one side had no possibility of winning. Within abandonment you find yourself wishing for death. When you're dead you can't make the wrong choice and watch your mother frown from the distance. Immune to the bitter truth. Because of their betrayal you're abandoned, when you're abandoned you're lost. Simple as neglecting the love for you child when it's the only thing to offer.
When she finally found it in her the strength to stand up, she fixed her dress and tried to come with a way to get out of there. She enjoyed the outdoors but that place in particular seemed to put her in a foul mood. The piercing cold air was almost too much for her bare shoulders to stand. When she opened her mouth to speak her breath turned into fog. She would have to find a place to rest, somewhere calm and warm. Once step after the other, that's how she started to walk. Mexico wished she could blame the situation on anything. They say religion exists because humans find it a necessity to put their faith on something. Find something to believe in. Even when she had been just a small nation and the strangers had forced their beliefs she had never understood the purpose of a religion. Not as much as she did now. Having something to blame, something to believe was the cause of everything nasty and dangerous would've been reassuring. A relief even. It would mean she had the privilege of choosing to believe this not to be her fault. However, she could not be that naive.
What was the ultimate punishment? It certainly could not be Death. If Death was it were was the point to everything else? If the worst thing that could happen to you was be killed then everything else was just silly. Death was a relief. It took away everything wrong, every tiny feeling and fear inside their mind and heart and soul. It was a salvation from suffering. Mexico stood still for a moment. Thinking about it, it made no sense to run. Inside her twisted mind she wondered if maybe she should look for Death instead of running around yearning to stay alive. This resulted in another question. What was the price she was willing to pay for her survival? She shook that thought away. Thinking about it was useless. When the time came she would surely make a choice.
With every step she took her body became heavier, her feet more difficult to move and her head to the point when it seemed to erupt. Mexico's eyes began to drift away. The pain was too much and it was making her dizzy. Vulnerable to see things that weren't there. Only once had she felt this way. There were many times, and Mexico did not enjoy recalling them, when her country became victim to shortage of food. Days, weeks, months, when the only way she could survive was with scrapes of whatever she could find. Starving. The feeling still haunted her mind. Even more than the ghost stories she made up for fun. Starving, losing her mind. Because her sense weaken and her body slowly starts to shut down. The girl sat down at the shadow of the nearest tree she could find. She was feeling rather uneasy with all this new thoughts. Thoughts that she had claimed were long gone and washed away with time. But no. Just because you stop thinking about it doesn't mean it's not there. Perhaps Mexico's greatest weakness was that she kept everything in. She did not like to deal with whatever hurt her and so those wounds stayed wide open and fresh. Scars of body and soul.
A legend, as the person who made them. Forget. Forget. She had to forget. In this new sitting position she found herself feeling a new sense of fear. Fear of the unknown. But there wasn't anything out there potentially dangerous. She was not afraid of the dark, or ghosts, that is if they weren't the ghosts or the skeletons she kept in her closet. Ana María would've moved had she had the strength to do so. A part of her mind yelled at her to run. Run away and never look back. But she couldn't. Because there was a part of her that kept her chained to that tree. Chained to that house.
Maybe now she would find out what triggered her nightmares.
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Post by Fear on Jul 13, 2012 9:47:56 GMT -6
Fear trickled through the afternoon haze, its misty black form ominous and faint. A new victim had been selected, and like so many others, was placed outside for Fear to find. The sun failed to successfully illuminate the Manor's grounds, leaving the outdoors locked in a permanent state of overcast with the occasional storm. Fear coasted along, pondering what sort of soul it got to kill this time. Fear had been summoned because there was not enough bloodshed within the Manor's walls. The Master wanted to see death, not survival stories. Though, certain events had turned some nations insane and set them on each other, which was almost as amusing as killing them. However, Fear preferred the latter. It liked to see these timeless-beings fall at its presence.
Thankfully, the Courtyard was not too far from the heart of the Manor. Without it, Fear wouldn't be in this concentrated haze of blackness. True, Fear would never disappear, but it would not cease to exist in a form where it could think and possess a corrupt personality. Hovering along, Fear soon found its next target. She had been unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the clearing. Joy sparked deep within Fear. Was the Manor making it too easy now? Fear didn't even really have to search for this one. Regardless, the tar-like smoke slithered down the girl's nose and throat, soon penetrating her mind.
Unconsciously, the nation took note of Fear's presence. The nightmare was enough evidence, as Fear was currently flicking through memories of her ancient past. Mexico? My my, she was far from home, wasn't she? Fear grinned internally as it continued to snoop through the Spanish nation's past. Fear, accidentally or not, had triggered some memory with a few alterations. More fear, more terror... The embodiment of the emotion watched gleefully as the dream, or nightmare, progressed. Though entertaining, it was not exactly easy for Fear to reproduce such a scenario outside of the dream rhelm. It needed something... something physical. Fire, water, burial, anything physical with meat. Something that could be exploited without difficulty. Fear continued to download the memories of Anna Maria until it hit something. Something it could use. Releasing the icy hold that Fear had on her brain, Fear materialized outside of her body to skirt away before she awoke. Once free of its intrusion, the nation woke with a panicked start.
The black mist bloomed in the shadows, delighted with the warming surge of strength that was supplied by the Mexican. Excellent. She was already apprehensive, and that nightmare had only caused her unease. Unease that lead to the delightful terror that strengthened Fear. When the nations felt terror or apprehension, it brought strength to Fear. The more frightened they became, the more power Fear had to kill them with. Problem was, if the nations faced their fears or did not experience true terror, Fear lost its ability to transform. It served as a serious problem, so Fear usually planned a trap that could nail more than one of their fears at one time.
This woman was a swirling whirlpool of emotions and thoughts, which was always a plus. Confusion only lead to apprehension. From what Fear had collected in her mind, she was a strong woman. Not the kind that demanded a rescue from some far off prince. Though, even the strong feared something. She wasn't exactly radiating emotions associated with comfort. As she crawled against a tree, Fear decided that it had waited long enough.
Fear quickly changed forms, morphing into one of Mexico's deepest fears. Muscles and fur bloomed and solidified into a hard skin. Four limbs sprouted from the body, gripping the ground as the body continued to grow. Spines prickled up and out of the creature's back as a long tongue flicked over the two pronounced canines that poked through its lips. Fear blinked, accustoming itself to having actual eyes. The creature grinned slowly, pulling its lips over two rows of incredibly short teeth. Moving silently through the shadows and cover that the overgrown grass provided, Fear stalked its prey.
Fear purposely made noise, whether it was the soft rustle of moving grass or the sharp snap of a dead twig. The nation had been nervous and scared before, but now with the threat of something stalking her? Fear expected her terror levels to skyrocket. If not, Fear would push the rolling ball along. Letting out a low, feral growl, the beast lurched through the shadows, close enough to give the Mexican a glimpse of the fast-moving body. Fear did not strike though. It had only positioned itself better and had aimed to plunge the nation into the beginning of the Trial. After all, El Chupacabra did much more than just stalk its prey.
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Survivor
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Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on Jul 13, 2012 12:34:01 GMT -6
Felt like closing her eyes and let sleep slowly wash her away. She was tired, tired beyond gaining the ability to move. Piercing cold air was almost soothing. Taking her in its arms and gently lulling to sleep. Let the place crumble down, piece by piece will fall to the ground. And the place that once stood, is buried by deep myths of sound. There was once a soul who roamed the world, looking for a place to stay. But she believed it was the only place in that tight furl that was nice to see. It was nice to pretend but all that's left is pray. She'd like to believe it was all a myth, when they all came knocking on her door. And she'd scream and shout "Let me out! Let me out!" but didn't cease the dragging through the floor.
If sleep was its command and she denied it in such form, she had to force her eyes to stay open, she couldn't afford another trip in the sinking realm. Slowly Mexico stood up, her back leaned against the trunk. She used it as a way to keep her balance, the only soothing feeling she knew. The inside of her body yelled at her to move. There was something surrounding her but their eyes never met. When they hold her by chains demeaning she believe in the things she said. The judge would smile and look away, it was time to pay. Because you cannot speak, you cannot make a sound when it's you that takes the stand. And because the faces will not believe her lies, eventually just meet their demand.
Who's afraid of the dark? Who's afraid of falling in a dark mist no longer able to recognize what is buried within? Angry with no answer they beat the pleading screams, yearning to find what she had not yet sinned. And they haunt and haunt till the screams became a cry, and look in their eyes while they wait to die. Los recuerdos lentamente me sofocan. Mexico took a step forward, small even insignificant, but necessary. She had started to feel rather uneasy and this solitude was getting the best of her. Second step. If she could run she would look for a way to escape the grounds, whatever the cost, even if meant leaving everyone behind.
And then she saw it. For just a small second. But it was there, she could sense it. A step back or a step forward? Mexico felt unbelievably exposed. As though whatever was nagging her had managed to open the little secrets, every dark thought, every evil deed, her crying in bed. And there was nothing she feared most than looking at herself in a mirror. Looking at the things written, scars across her body. Reminding her we're not saints. Reminding her there is bloodshed all over. Someone guilty, someone innocent, someone killing. Then it made a noise. Just barely above a whisper but strong enough for her to know. She was not alone. And because she didn't know what it was out there she began to feel paranoid. Paranoid but not terrified. Terrified would make her vulnerable. She did not allow it.
Mexico took a deep breath. She was used to ghost stories. She understood the meaning of fear. She knew how to get inside a person's head, suck at every bit of their sanity, fool around with what triggered their nightmares, only for them to be begging for an end. And then, later comply. It was fun to watch other suffer. It was fun to expose their greatest fear and watch them slowly fall to their knees. She enjoy messing with their emotional stability. That's why her nation possessed every possible scary story about mythical creatures. Things that only exist inside our minds. She did not fear ghosts, or mummies, or vampires, or any sort of nonsense. What she feared she would never admit. Such weakness was not allowed. Yet, Mexico had a feeling it knew.
A step forward then seemed like a better choice. The only choice in fact. Because looking back was painful and staying in one place was pointless. If the girl knew how to keep her emotions at ease, do much more than just hide them with a gentle smile, pretend until eventually she forgot... No one wants to look at their mistakes. Determined to see who it was out there, for she did not appreciate being tampered with, she spoke. Only her english failed miserably and she could not even attempt to possess an ounce of the confidence she wanted. So she spoke in her native language. "Se que estas ahí." (I know you´re there.) Another step forward. Measured. Not reckless. She wasn't stupid. "Seria mucho mas divertido si superiera sue eres." (It would much more amusing if I knew what you are.)
Mexico was confused. Inside a battlefield of her own emotions. To feel or not to feel? What could benefit her to point of winning? She needed to measure the enemy, she needed to know what it stood for, what it wanted. But she couldn't help but feel scared of what she might find out. And truth is she did not want to do anything more than close her eyes and pretend none of this was happening. Take her home instead. Somewhere peaceful, quite, where she did not have to battle every moment, second. She realized she yearned for security far more than she yearned anything else.
The anticipation, not knowing, that's what kept her paranoia at ridiculous levels. But no step back. Never a step back. She had opened her mouth. It became hard to breathe. As though oxygen wasn't consuming her body. As though something slowly deprived her from her right to live. Her chocolate brown eyes searched her surroundings but there was little she could see in the dark. She needed to know and at the same time she didn't. But that silent should was not allowed in the gates, for it had not yet met its fate. So when it came for her to choose her way, there's not much revenge won't serve.
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Post by Fear on Aug 2, 2012 10:39:09 GMT -6
Fear wasn't happy. Not at all.
This girl, this Mexico... she wasn't reacting like Fear wanted her to. There were occasionally nations that fought their fears, but not like her. She was refusing to fall into the pit of terror and uncertainty. She seemingly held her composure, though Fear could feel her paranoia seeping through the edges of her overall calm demeanour. She seemed to be aware of her apprehension and was keeping a tight lid on it. Though Fear could not read thoughts, it could sense what emotions people were experiencing. From that, Fear could get a pretty good understanding of what the human was thinking or planning. However, the spirit was coming up with blanks regarding this Latin American girl.
She seemed strong, but not in a physical sense. Strong mentally. Every bobbin of her thoughts and emotions was tightly wound, leaving no mental strings for Fear to tug on. In its body, Fear pulled back its lips to bare its teeth at her from the shadows. How dare she be so collected when she was in the presence of the almighty Fear? This was not right. Fear needed more emotions to sustain a solid body. If she continued this stupid action of remaining calm, then Fear would dissolve back into a mist and have to face the fact that it failed. The Master did not take this sort of failure all to kindly either... which meant that Fear needed to double its efforts or risk punishment.
The girl called out into the blackness of night, speaking in her native Spanish tongue. Fear had downloaded her language when it had stolen her memories, so it understood the words without a hitch. She was nervous... that much came through in her smooth tone. Nervous normally meant that a human was more open to Fear's tactics, but Fear wasn't sure how to actually deal with this one. Well, lingering in the shadows and making noise didn't feel to throw her off the deep end. In fact, she had advanced from her previous seat, standing and actually taking a stride towards Fear.
The action really pissed Fear off. Fine. If she wanted to see what the embodiment had transformed into, so be it. Enough with this lingering in the shadows to play off of her fear of abandonment. If she wanted confrontation, then she was going to get it. With a loud snarl that rippled across the previously silent grounds, Fear launched itself from the darkness of the overgrown grasses, body in complete view of the girl. Fear didn't give her the pleasure of waiting for long though. She only had seconds of reaction time before Fear lurched towards her, teeth sharp and claws unsheathed.
There was a price to pay for bravery. Fear was beyond patient at this point. If the image of a legend-come-to-life wasn't enough to strike fear into the woman's heart, then Fear would disappear back into mist and never been seen by the Mexican nation again.
[I'm sorry this isn't all that great of a post. I'm having trouble with my Fear posts as of late ;_; ]
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Survivor
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Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on Aug 2, 2012 13:36:26 GMT -6
She was trembling. Every inch of her body shook violently. She was scared, but not physically scared like anyone would believe. No. There was a battlefield in her mind. Strength. What defined strength anyway? The ability to endure something until the end? Could if be that simple? Mexico had serious doubts about it. Because it couldn't possibly be something so unbelievably shallow. No, there had to be something else to it.
She took a deep breath. She was freezing within the cold air of the manor, as though it knew that she was weak under its influence. A small tear manage to escape her eyes and trace her cheeks. It was gone before she could brush it off. Mexico was a nation wounded from the horrors of her past. She seemed strong because she kept everything secure in little boxes in her heart. No one knew that inside, past her clear line of defense, she was tie with chains. Slowly closing in on her. Vulnerable. Completely and absolutely vulnerable.
Mexico feared her opponent, that unknown source of which she had started to fully recognize its presence, knew about her secrets, everything that triggered her nightmares. Darkness slowly suffocated her, like rivulet drops of sadness. She wanted to take a step forward but something inside her stopped her. A small voice inside her head, overshadowed by everything else, still managed to advise her. And in that second she saw it. It was a heavy creature, with hard skin and fur. Limbs sprouted from its body and spines emerged from its back. It had a long sharp tongue and it growled at her with vampire fierce teeth.
Mexico's eyes opened and her iris shrunk as she realized what it was. El Chupacabras. It launched itself towards her, its claws aiming to rip something more than just her skin. Every nerve in her body, even her fears screamed at her to run. Run before it caught you. There was an Aztec story called the Flower War. For four days warriors would search the land looking for people from the weaker civilizations to sacrifice them as tribute to the gods. They would rip the heart out of the prisoner and then dump their bodies down the 500 steps to the ground. There was absolutely no chance of escape. She had never felt that apprehension before.
She was scared but not for the Chupacabras itself, but everything it represented. It wasn’t just a scary story Puerto Rico had made up for lack of anything to do. It was real. So real it scared her. So she ran. She ran from her fears which were slowly developing around her. Until eventually they will catch up with her.
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Post by Fear on Aug 6, 2012 17:54:21 GMT -6
There it was.
The refreshing wash of fear that the embodiment desperately needed flooded into its limbs, restrengthening the muscles that threatened to sublimify into vapour. Finally, Fear had gotten through that ridiculously strong fortification and resolve that the nation had. It should have done this from the start. Still though, just before it leaped it felt a slight waver in the Mexican's calmness. Perhaps she wasn't as solid as Fear had first believed. However, none of that mattered now. Now, the form of El Chupacabras was not in threat of becoming a harmless mist. Maria's time had passed, and now it was Fear's turn to play.
Once in sight, the woman panicked. Fear could feel the intense rush of the initial shock coursing through its temporary veins. That was its favourite part. The sheer feeling of utter surprise and horror tasted so deliciously sweet on Fear's lips. It was though, only short lived as this woman didn't freeze. No, she instead recognized the threat and began to run. Flee. It was fantastic. Fear didn't want to just kill her right there. Though this nation had annoyed it more than most, it still liked the challenge of bringing one of these 'immortals' down. It was thrilling, as these embodiments of countries had never truly experienced fear that could actually kill them. According to all the memories that Fear had accessed, none of them really kicked the bucket unless their land or territory was seized. Many had 'died', but most of the countries around today were here to stay. That was, unless Fear was assigned to kill them.
Chasing the Mexican was easy. Well, for Fear it was. She radiated emotion like a beacon, beckoning Fear over to her location. She wasn't exactly quiet either, trudging through the tall grasses of the Courtyard. It was easy... Fear was able to keep up with her pace due to the fact that she was blissfully supplying him with endless energy. It let her sprint for a small while so she tired herself out. That way, Fear had less chances of getting hurt. It was aware that Maria was armed and Fear didn't feel like experiencing the pain that accompanied a physical body. Instead, Fear wanted to tucker her out before pouncing and killing her.
Still though, wearing her down couldn't hurt. Fear rocketed forward, reaching a breakneck speed in an attempt to snap at her ankles. If Fear could cause her to fall at these speeds, then there was the possibility that she'd get hurt and would be less likely to struggle against death's clutches.
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Survivor
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Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on Aug 6, 2012 21:04:46 GMT -6
Mexico could feel her heart beating at a dangerously fast rate. It bumped fiercely against her chest that any moment now it would jump out of her and run towards a window, anywhere just to escape. It would leave her alone in the darkness before she would be able to understand what happened. For a split second there she was jealous. The girl with the chocolate brown eyes kept running. Running from her secrets, her memories, her fears. Slowly with every step she took, forceful and quick they got closer. When you lock your feelings, when you make your face a mask and refuse to see or feel anything, your emotions are bottled up into crystals spheres. Each piece made of regret, guilt, loss and abandonment. As time goes by they are pushed together, like a chain around your body forcing you to fit it, until eventually it snaps.
Run from the voices as screaming they'll call your name. Mexico did not dare to look back. Tears were sprinting out of her eyes, staining her cheeks with bloody cries of hope. Her casual, composed demeanor had vanished. Every emotion she had fought endlessly to keep in place had vanished under the influence of one thing. How naive of her to believe she could manage such an opponent. She was strong but no incredibly. She was weaker than most, wounded like the rest and most importantly vulnerable. Yet in that consciousness she knew she had to do something about it. El Chupacabras, embodiment of everything nasty and dangerous, chased after her. She could feel his heavy steps against the ground. Every time she managed to get farther it just kept up with her. It was a game to this creature. A game designed to torture her in the most foul way. Only then did she realized there was a slim chance she would come out of this alive.
As a nation it is very difficult to realize, to even think about the possibility of being mortal, of dying. It doesn't work that way. She knew of countries, great civilizations that had vanished, but she never thought that would happen to her. The thought was that of a naive and reckless teenager, with the world at its feet, thinking "that can't possibly happen to me". Bitter laugh. Wrong.
In a free second, whenever Mexico cleared her head, she wondered what would Aztec Empire say? Would it be proud? Disappointed? Angered? Would he think her weak or reckless? Would he think that all those years of teaching her the ancient secrets were useless? Those thoughts alone were enough to give Mexico an unknown source of rage. As though this creature was making fun of her, of her past. Then she felt. As simple as watching the sun set. She felt. Ana María turned to look at her feet. The ends of her dress were ragged and her ankles gave off a radiating pain she had never felt before. She cursed under her breath as she tried to move. She was only successful in doing so with small movements, knowing for sure that creature was coming her way.
She breathed slowly. Calm. Collected. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three. If she screamed now, like she so desperately wanted to there would be no turning back. It would be the end of her. So she put up a fight with her inner demons. Calm. Collected. She could do it.
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Post by Fear on Aug 16, 2012 11:28:28 GMT -6
Cat and mouse. Chase, maul, then let it go to experience the thrill all over again. Fear had a plan. A sick, twisted one at that. The beast would snarl, yip and make noise as it chased this girl down, then it would bite. Not the neck or primary areas, but the ankles, hands, legs, and extremities. Then Fear would back off, letting the girl rise up to run once more. Before killing this nation, Fear intended to crack her sanity. Wear her spirit down so raw that she'd be begging for death's clutches to take her away. Fear lost the desire for an easy kill. It wanted to draw out her demise for as long as possible.
Perhaps the best way to torture her soul was to tax her body of blood. The beast itself was known for drinking the blood of farm animals, especially goats, so it would make sense. Though Fear itself had no need for the physical consumption of energy (as it lived off the terrors that people felt), it could ingest blood for the sake of staying in character with its body of choice. However, afterwords, the spirit would have to purge and rid itself of the human impurities that would pollute its misty form.
Fear could worry about such small problems later. Right now, the embodiment needed to actually kill the girl before even having to worry about what to do with the body. It pounced and snapped, tearing through the ends of the pretty skirt as Fear found the warm flesh of her ankles. A shallow gouge was all that Fear left before leaping back in case she kicked. She did not. She didn't do any sort of retaliation. Fear grinned, pulling its bloody chops back to reveal its sharp incisors and canines. How quaint. Was she done already? Was she at her limit? Fear was just getting started. Hissing and flicking its forked tongue out, Fear stalked the girl in a semi-circle, looking for another opening.
Why wasn't she pleading though? Begging for mercy like some of the other nations had? Where was the panic? And why was Fear's strength receding? Ah well, Fear would just have to take this game to the next level.
“Sssssilly human....” Fear whispered, its voice like a snake as its tongue accented its strange speech. “There issss no essscape.” Just as the words left its mouth, Fear sprang forward, hoping to have a new surge of fright through its veins.
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Post by Mexico on Aug 16, 2012 20:32:07 GMT -6
Undeniably human. Mexico had a hard time coming to terms with this fact. She was not used to feeling what humans felt. She was used to greater things, having the weight of an entire nation and not just silly fears. What she did, who she was actually mattered. Human might as well be linked with mortality, weakness, vulnerability. She fought to think she was neither of the above. In some condescending manner she liked to think she was better than the average person. She wasn't just Ana María, she was Mexico, in all its glory. But remembering all that was somehow too complicated for her.
As she laid on the ground, her pretty dress torn, her ankle radiating with excruciating pain, she wished she could be oblivious to the one thing that mattered. The voices in her head.
The root of all evil. Everything polluted, nasty, dangerous and just plain wrong. Corrupted. Weak. Poor. Liar. Liar. Liar. Look in the mirror and find a doll, falling apart and sewn back together. Filled up with empty promises and dreams that will never come true. Close your eyes and find the darkness you can't escape from. Bang your head against the wall and cover your hands with bloody knuckles because it's too late and the deed is done. The things you did and the regrets. Look at the past as the guilt slowly eats you. Yell and scream hoping someone hears you. Try to feel numb because you can't stand living inside of your head. Like a mannequin shell that doesn't fit. Earthquakes. Flashes of emotion all beaming against her. Try to decide which side to take. What to give in to and what not to. Hide behind a smile. Cover the vital regions. Camouflage every aspect of vulnerability.
Mexico knew how much it hurt to live in a world were people didn't see you, not even when you're standing in front of them stomping your feet. The girl closed her eyes as a small tear painted her cheeks. It was easier to dump all this feelings one more time. It was easier to deny everything and pretend like it didn't hurt, pretend her fears didn't matter. Pretend she wasn't as weak as she felt. But this monster was making it so difficult to simply do this. It was bringing the worst of herself out into the real world, for everyone to see.
Ana María, the human trapped inside the nation, wondered what to do. If she stayed like that she might as well admit defeat. She was too proud, a weakness or a virtue she would never know, to simply give in. Her ancestors taught her to fight and as much as it seemed hopeless a fight she would give. And she should not run.
With every ounce of strength in her body, fighting the screaming pains, she stood up. She would've stumbled and fell had she been naive to believe her opponent would not tear her to pieces the moment it could. Mexico was breathing heavily. She sniffled. She cleared her throat. She knew she was at a mayor disadvantage, so she had to play her cards correctly. The creature drew circles around her, snarling at her. It was clear she was the prey and Mexico did not like that one bit.
"Sssssilly human....” It said, and it surprised her beyond belief that It could talk. “There issss no essscape.” She knew that. Perhaps so much that it send piercing fear throughout her body. There wasn't any escape so the only way to get out of this was by winning. It was clear one of them would be dead. She knew all bets were against her. Her body was shaking. She did not know how much of it showed, but it was. She was scared, that was true and not being made her a fool. But that didn't mean she wouldn't try to fight that fear.
Barely did she had time to analyze the situation, find an alternate meaning to the creature's words when It sprang forward. She fought the urge to close her eyes and run. In a moment, she took out what she had forgotten she had. She held her machete firmly, worried her hands would not be able to endure the fright within her. She yelled too, in surprise to the creature's action. and merely took a step back. But she held the weapon towards It, meaning business. Far more than just fear, she felt anger. Rage even. How dare It think it could just mess with her? After all she had in her eyes the spirit of a warrior. Fighting civilization. It would crack her sanity, but not with fear, but rather rage.
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Post by Fear on Aug 25, 2012 14:51:18 GMT -6
'Run. Flee. Escape. Try to outlive your own fears before they climb up on your mind, your body, and consume you. It is not my teeth or claws that will end you. It's your own heart, crying out from the pain that you've locked within it. And now, Ana Maria, you will die.'
Fear sprung like a coiled mechanism, each of its muscles flawlessly launching the beast forward into the air with an intense burst of speed. Mexico had rose to her injured feet, but that was of little concern. Fear had enough power to jump her height without breaking a sweat. So thus, the large beast soared towards the girl with outstretched paws that housed ten unsheathed claws. Fear was done playing. No more petty blood or tearing at clothes for a taste of refreshing terrors. Fear was growing bored with this game of cat and mouse. After all, the spirit had chased, caught, mauled, then released its prey. After all that, she hadn't even said anything. No begging, no sobbing. A few tears slid down her cheeks as she pitifully attempted to keep everything locked away. Did she know that those withheld feelings would be the silent death of her? An autopsy would show the physical wounds, but miss the horrors within her mind. Fear had seen them when it pried her memories from her.
Who was she trying to be a martyr for? An ancient name on a slab of stone back in her country? Some unknown figment of her imagination? Please. The world was selfish. The world was cruel. Fear had learned that from the vile human race in which the embodiment was born from. People were cowards. They took from other because of their greed. As such, Fear learned that it was a all-for-one world. Every man for himself. So that's what Fear planned to do. The spirit would take everything from Mexico and leave nothing for anyone else. She was Fear's kill and Fear's kill alone.
Her attire left her pretty neck dangerously exposed, a fact that Fear would soon exploit. The spirit knew what it wanted. Deliver a kill bite, and if that wasn't enough, drain the blood from her body like the legend that it was representing. Fear never really had a taste for blood or flesh, only fears and terrors, so the spirit would have to purge anything it ingested, but it could deal with that later. It had to kill her first before worrying about such trifle things.
Fear's paws collided with Ana's shoulders, digging into her skin even though she took a fleeting step back. There was no escape. Fear's maw snapped forward, trying to reach the vital area around her face when the spirit felt something. Something that it didn't normally feel. The foreign feeling quickly overtook the body of Fear as itself and Mexico crashed to the ground. Instead of seizing its chance to kill her, Fear fled back a few steps, this sensation limiting its movements.
Pain. Horrible dreadful pain. Fear hated pain. It couldn't stand it. Pain was the flaw that accompanied having a physical body. A choked gurgle spurt from Fear's lips as a liquid filled El Chupacabras's nostrils. What was this? The pain... it was consuming this body. Fear could not mentally hold up to pain. It could deal pain to others, but withstanding it for itself? Fear wobbled on four paws, coughing up inky black splotches on the cracked earth.
“Bitch...” he hissed, venomous eyes glittering with utter hatred up at the female that held the knife that Fear's eyes missed. In the spirit's arrogance, it had forgotten that she was armed with a weapon. Fear had just assumed that she had forgotten in her own panic. Now... Fear was paying the price. Wheezing, Fear's red eyes glanced about. Ana Maria was no longer feeling any source of panic. No, anger. She wasn't frightened of him... No... this couldn't be...
Fear's eyes darted to her blade, which was clean of any substance. No blood, no nothing. A clear indication that this monster that she had been duelling with was not natural. Fear's intolerance to pain began to affect its functionality once more as it collapsed to one leg, grinding its teeth together in agony. The gouge in its chest had been right in the centre, where the beast's heart would normally be. Instead of blood pouring from the fatal injury, inky black smoke flooded about, an indication that Fear's body was slipping. The embodiment didn't have the capabilities to reform itself either, not without Mexico being afraid. Damn.
With an angry snarl, Fear's body imploded, phasing back into an inky black mist that billowed and brooded angrily. The cloud surged forward, within inches of Mexico's face as it spat, “You think you've won little wench, but believe me, Death will have you in its clutches soon enough!” Hissing in anger, Fear darted away, leaving the girl alone as ever in the clearing. Right where the beast had fallen laid a single key.
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Congratulations Mexico, you have beaten your Terror Trial and have been rewarded the Key to the Hidden Santuary! If touched, this object would glow and begin to float towards the Manor. However, it only works once and will not stop until it has reached the Sanctuary's location. If you get caught up with something while following it, do not let it leave your sights. It will not wait for you and you only have one chance to get a break from the Manor's clutches. Have fun and congratulations once more =D
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