more death

Through endless streams of fire, the nagual hoped to survive. Survive long and thrive. She was destined to be the strongest, the nagual often chased that destiny when she wasn't resting so peacefully wherever she pleased. But, this seemed hopeless. So much so. This would be the nagual's greatest challenge. She intended to overcome the challenge. Like she had in the past, she'd over this one as well. She had to. To be the strongest. Quite this was destiny.

Hope seemed so... so far away after every wave of fire. So far away. Through every flame she cut through, she found no hope. Bits of her burning away every time. Every time. Every time. She was burning up. But she found this entertaining oddly. The most excitement she'd had in awhile. There'd be no feeling. They'd already declared her to die if she fled. Not that any soul on this continent could ever catch her. Quite. She prided herself to be the quickest in the west, south, east, and north.She'd spent her life running. And now she only found herself running in circled and cutting fires. Quite, this was destiny.

Fighting, after every charge, she lost a little more of herself. Her skin and flesh. Turned to ash as the nagual dashed through fires. Cut through fires. It didn't quite matter did it? It was her arm first. Than bits of her leg. She was losing her mobility and felt afraid that destiny was changing. Turning. Dastardly... How dastardly. The nagual was no longer in prime condition like she was in her youth. If it had not been for flames quickly burning away at wounds... she might have been bled out. But, once again, destiny was turning. Changing. Twisting and acting against her. She wouldn't last until the end of the fight. Quite, this was destiny.

Before her final charge... She tossed out her vials of Wick-Brand Nightshade out to the watching crowd and stars. Cowards. The like. Those who didn't seek to risk their life. Those who might have been so lucky to get away before their death. Those vials to land somewhere. Perhaps near someone. Perhaps never to be taken. Who knew, the Wick's interest. So constantly fading. Despite wanting this, her interest was leaving her. This battle was boring her. Death was... boring. A boring end. Quite, this was destiny.

Towards the end of the dance. A graceful dance of her blade against a beast, she charged. She tossed the poison as she found it that it wouldn't be needed wherever she might have been going. Her scarf though, it stayed. Until the very end. It had stayed with her longer than most of her friends. Those she considered such. Osira, Susanoo, Her siblings... like Elijah and John. It gave more guidance when it blew in the wind than any boss she had in the past. Tragedy, Lugonqi, or just really archon at that. She'd tighten the scarf "In my next life..." As if certain she'd be back... in some way, in some form. Unlikely...it didn't work like that. Did it? Quite, it was destiny.


The beginning of Wvelven Wick was... Uneventful.
The story of W Wick was... Uneventful.
The end of Wick was... Uneventful.

Quite, this was destiny. Wasn't it.

But, this small story had come to it's end.

(W Wick)