Elisandre had died.
Her head was completely gone.
Rokash stomped her head off.
Nothing but boos were heard, pure rage from the crowd above. Although the women in the crowd were very pleased with the sight.
I wince at the sight of someone whom I had though to be a peer to die so easily, how fickle this thing we call life is...
One moment you're using your powers to wade death, the next... you're dead.
The proctor didn't call the victory yet.
Perhaps he too was in shock? Who would've thought this barbaric man would take the win here?
Y'know, I feel quite sad. I kind of liked Elisandre. Even if she was a pompous brat who believed in her own superiority, she had a certain charm about her.
Rokash pumps his fist into the air, but he suddenly falls to the floor. His eyes began to bleed; his mouth churning out liquid, as the blood spilled onto the floor from his mouth it began to solidify, the blood steaming with the pure chill that emanated from it the second it touched the sand.
Rokash clutches his chest, he's clawing at his torso, as if something was stuck inside of him. He's on his hands and knees facing the floor and still bleeding. His eyes began to spill blood next, he's screaming.
Screaming in pain, screaming curses, he's confused. As were we all.
Not the proctors it seems.
Elisandre appears behind Rokash; her staff loomed over his head. Rokash turns back and begins to curse at her, all manner of profanity left his lips between his coughs.
She survived?
The screen pans over to where Elisandre's body should've been, and it was still there. Though it freezes up and cracks, it disappears and crumbles to dust becoming one with the sand.
I thought her power was that of -- water. That's right, water. But she was also using ice? Another dual element user? Was that even possible!?
She was using her Resan to manipulate the very water within Rokash's bloodstream, Elisandre is still chanting; her malice masked with the beauty of her language.
Rokash crumbles onto the floor, his body goes limp before immediately seizing up. Rigormortis, aided by Elisandre's ice. The crowd is absolutely rampant with screams; shouting, joy. It proved to be in stark contrast to the earlier incident in where Elisandre had seemingly died.
"The winner is Elisandre!"
The proctor bellowed it out for all to hear, she, who had succumb to death, had really used her powers to feign it. I wonder if I could do something similar, being able to use Resan to manipulate the very blood in someone's body; is that ability rare? If everyone who was bestowed the water element could do that, it would be a massacre. Plus she's a dual element user...
They would say someone like that only appears every a thousand years, what sort of coincidence could it be for two to appear at the same time? Maybe they aren't as rare as one would think. Somewhere deep down inside, I wanted to befriend her, but she is far too pompous from my experience.
She would never mingle with a crowd that was "below" her. That much I gathered in my time sharing the cabin on the way to the Academy. But, that power was terrifying to witness. I truly do wonder how it works. Perhaps I should ask her later.
She walks off and then the next two begin their battle in the coming minutes, as the battle rages my mind begins to wander, and then, it hit me. The blood. The mouth begins to dry first, I know this sensation, the starvation is setting.
For some reason, I heard that most vampires lose themselves completely when starvation sets in; and yet I feel quite calm. I can wade it out, for the time being. Although I need to be satiated, the urge is still lingering in the back of my brain. It's like being stranded alone on a desert, no water, blood is my new water.
My hand comes up to my neck and I continue to scratch it, my nails had been sharpened when I began to live my new unlife. But to compensate, so did my skin, it didn't stop me from tearing small cuts into my neck as I continue to dig my nails in.
If this was a lessened urge, I don't want to imagine what a feral urge would even look like.
The door slides open and then a bag of something slams down onto the floor before the door immediately closes once more. I run to go see what it is, practically shooting out of my chair and diving headfirst into the bag. Another thing that was heightened was my sense of smell, even if it was sealed, I knew immediately what it was. Blood. I tear open the bag and see sealed containers full of a red liquid, this was my food.
I open one up and begin tip it over into my mouth, the blood practically spills everywhere but I don't care, I needed it. Upon swallowing the blood my eyes shoot wide open, it was euphoric. Oh, this feeling, I never want to go without it ever again. The blood was sweet, it tasted of the finest fruits I had ever tasted in my life before.
I look down to the floor and the blood that had spilled is plastered on the floor, my clothes had been drenched in the liquid as well as it dripping from my mouth down onto my chin.
Satisfied, I fall backwards and then close my eyes.
This was amazing.
My dreams -- I never want to go into that space. I know what haunts me and bears down heavily on my mind. Fogged with the machinations of mortality. I see my fists pummelling flesh, the blood that splatters covering my entire hand, brutally and constantly adding more power with each strike.
I don't want to relive this.
I hate it.
Regardless of my efforts to be rid of it, it continues. Regret is a fickle thing, it never truly goes away. It always stays entrapped in the deepest orifices of the mind.
As if static takes place my mind shifts over to the house I first met my fate in, where Morgana had saved me. Where I had been fatally wounded.
Then to mother, her apple pies were to die for.
Then to Darius, how he bellows out in laughter at any joke.
I miss them.
This is truly a tragedy, a grim fate.