War of the Gods
You manage to grab the blade of the sword in both hands and yank it out of the woman's hands to throw it off to the side. The sharp blade has cut your hands, but you grabbed the sword in such a way that it cut you across your palms, rather than your fingers, where it would have caused more damage. Now, you close your hands lightly in order to stop the blood flow.
The woman had her eyes closed as she was about to drive the sword into her heart. Now, she opens them to give you an angry and somewhat surprised glare. "Where did you come from?!" she demands. "And what are you doing?!"
She doesn't look happy to still be alive, but then, you hadn't expected her to thank you. "What are you doing?" you ask her in return. "Killing yourself is never an answer, no matter what the reason. Life is too precious for that." You stare at her, feeling and probably looking a bit grim. One thing you will not tolerate is people wasting lives, others' or their own. However, you keep your calm - you're not going to shout at her or scold her, since that would not be helpful. You just want her to reconsider her actions.
"It's none of your business!" the woman snaps, not showing any signs of calming down.
"No, it is not any of my business," you agree, though your tone remains firm as you add, "I think that you had better reconsider what you were about to do, though."
"I don't see why," the woman responds, her voice ending in an almost catlike hiss. "It would be much better if I was dead!"
You can hear how serious she is, and even feel the hopelessness radiating from her soul in waves, like painful thorns piercing your sense shields. She truly believes that there is nothing left for her to live for, and your spirit sinks at this. Your words may not be of any help here, and it's not like you can force her to stay alive.
"It is never better to be dead," you insist, your slight desperation tinting your tone even though you had never intended it to show.
"Well, you don't know why I'm doing this," the woman replies, still hissing a bit.
-True enough,- you think. You can't read her mind, only pick up her emotions. She seems somehow confused and lost, and you allow yourself to hope, sensing that. If she'd been trying to take her life with a clear head, she would never have let you stop her.
"It does not matter," you say sincerely. You don't have to know her reasons - you know what you believe in, and that is not, under any circumstances, death. Forgetting about your cut hands, you start to reach out to her, but then stop as your hand hurts, quickly lowering it again. She doesn't seem to have noticed your wounds, so there's no need to let her know about them.
You look up at her again, hoping that your pain doesn't show obviously. "Please do not throw your life away, my Lady," you plead. "It is too important."
For a long while, she says nothing, and doesn't move. You can sense the struggle inside her, but she seems more sensible now, at least. You don't interrupt her mental turmoil. The blood on your hands feels warm and sticky, and you can feel it drip off your knuckles. You hope that the wounds are not too deep, since you will be considerably disabled until they are healed. There's now a steady, painful throbbing, and you know that it'll hurt for at least a couple of days.
Finally, the winged woman storms over to the side of the road where you threw her sword, and picks it up, slamming it back into her belt.
You feel faintly relieved. "Are you going to be all right now?" you ask.
The woman shrugs, and answers, "I guess so. Seeing as I apparently can't kill myself."
"Good." You can't help noticing several cuts and bruises on her body now, and the fact that she smells of smoke, and you feel rather concerned. What happened to her?
What are you going to do?
The woman had her eyes closed as she was about to drive the sword into her heart. Now, she opens them to give you an angry and somewhat surprised glare. "Where did you come from?!" she demands. "And what are you doing?!"
She doesn't look happy to still be alive, but then, you hadn't expected her to thank you. "What are you doing?" you ask her in return. "Killing yourself is never an answer, no matter what the reason. Life is too precious for that." You stare at her, feeling and probably looking a bit grim. One thing you will not tolerate is people wasting lives, others' or their own. However, you keep your calm - you're not going to shout at her or scold her, since that would not be helpful. You just want her to reconsider her actions.
"It's none of your business!" the woman snaps, not showing any signs of calming down.
"No, it is not any of my business," you agree, though your tone remains firm as you add, "I think that you had better reconsider what you were about to do, though."
"I don't see why," the woman responds, her voice ending in an almost catlike hiss. "It would be much better if I was dead!"
You can hear how serious she is, and even feel the hopelessness radiating from her soul in waves, like painful thorns piercing your sense shields. She truly believes that there is nothing left for her to live for, and your spirit sinks at this. Your words may not be of any help here, and it's not like you can force her to stay alive.
"It is never better to be dead," you insist, your slight desperation tinting your tone even though you had never intended it to show.
"Well, you don't know why I'm doing this," the woman replies, still hissing a bit.
-True enough,- you think. You can't read her mind, only pick up her emotions. She seems somehow confused and lost, and you allow yourself to hope, sensing that. If she'd been trying to take her life with a clear head, she would never have let you stop her.
"It does not matter," you say sincerely. You don't have to know her reasons - you know what you believe in, and that is not, under any circumstances, death. Forgetting about your cut hands, you start to reach out to her, but then stop as your hand hurts, quickly lowering it again. She doesn't seem to have noticed your wounds, so there's no need to let her know about them.
You look up at her again, hoping that your pain doesn't show obviously. "Please do not throw your life away, my Lady," you plead. "It is too important."
For a long while, she says nothing, and doesn't move. You can sense the struggle inside her, but she seems more sensible now, at least. You don't interrupt her mental turmoil. The blood on your hands feels warm and sticky, and you can feel it drip off your knuckles. You hope that the wounds are not too deep, since you will be considerably disabled until they are healed. There's now a steady, painful throbbing, and you know that it'll hurt for at least a couple of days.
Finally, the winged woman storms over to the side of the road where you threw her sword, and picks it up, slamming it back into her belt.
You feel faintly relieved. "Are you going to be all right now?" you ask.
The woman shrugs, and answers, "I guess so. Seeing as I apparently can't kill myself."
"Good." You can't help noticing several cuts and bruises on her body now, and the fact that she smells of smoke, and you feel rather concerned. What happened to her?
What are you going to do?
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