[center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/Sx5KoIz.jpg[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/X3HEnmq.png[/img][/center][hr][center][color=9e0039]𝕆𝕔π•₯𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟘[/color][hr] [/center] It hurts. Her world was pain. With every movement, it felt as if lightning bolts crossed her vision. Each movement of her legs, her arms and her neck caused horrible suffering and an ever-increasing obscure blanketing her sight. A change of direction, her arms swung abruptly to one side, another jolt of pain flaring from her elbows making its way to her throat in a muted groan, which caused even more pain to her freshy torn and stitched throat. More than once, Angel wanted to bring a hand to her neck and rub and scratch at the aching there, but she couldn’t. At that moment, there wasn’t any second this pitiful ragdoll swung over the giant shadow creature wouldn’t feel pain. Her glassy eyes stared blankly at her unmoving arms. No matter how much she tried, she could not move a single finger. It pained her doing so as well. Angel had given up on trying to move her limbs, as it only provoked more suffering and threatened her already-fading consciousness to black out entirely. How did things come to be this way? What did they even want from her? Why did they do all this to her? [i]Why her?[/i] Those were questions among many that AngΓ©lique kept asking herself internally. Questions to take her mind away from the pain, as little good as it did to her. But the agonizing young woman was left unsatisfied with her shortcomings, and damning her lack of means to communicate. Oh, the Irony. Angel had cursed herself so much for having this deadly voice of hers. A voice that was meant to kill or bring pain. So much at times she wished she would be mute and stop hurting others. A very contrast view of her situation compared to before when she was grateful to have such a voice that captivated the hearts of thousands. But right now, just how much she longed she still had a voice. Even if it had been for a few missed, the raven-haired Aberration already missed that voice. To call out the terrible power she had begun to loathe. To protect herself. To call out for the others to help her. As much as she had tried, she could feel that familiar warmth of her magic working her throat, but it soon grew to be cold as nothing came out. Not only her screams, but deep inside she could feel that even her voice projections couldn’t reach for the others, or the surrounding area. She was effectively speechless, a powerless Mage. Just how fucking good her power as an Aberration was without a voice? As much as she missed her voice, AngΓ©lique also began cursing her powers. So weak and so pathetic, again. Was it her fate as a Mage to be held helpless and useless? What if she had Callan or Sander’s strength? What if she was as powerful as Hazel or Zoe? Would she be like this right now? Up until now, Angel was squirming, either in pain or in attempts to get off from the giant’s shoulders. But with increasing fatigue and weakness, her adrenaline had somewhat settled down after she realized she could do nothing. As minutes went by, the aching and the haze of her hangover were slowly replaced by more pain and a dreadful damp cold washing over her body. So cold. She could feel it now. The cold October rain falling mercilessly onto her mangled body. Her clothes were drenched, her skin was dripping wet with cold droplets. It felt like ice. Her still body began quivering slightly in response to that heat loss. Was it because she had lost a lot of blood? Or was it because she was dying? So many questions to distract her mind from all this pain. It hurts. So much suffering. How she wished she could just fade out already.