The sights. The sounds. Even the blasted smell. All of it was too much like the lab. All it was missing was the blood. But Ayhan could taste it on his tongue, feel the thick, warm liquid dribbling down his chin after he'd torn out the throat of one of his kin. No screaming. Just a desperate gurgling as they'd fought for air before succumbing. The sweet taste of flesh had mingled with that metallic blood. Something rushed by and Ayhan's eyes flew open, head snapping in the direction of the movement.
"Hey there."
An unfamiliar voice cut through the fog, and Ayhan's eyes flicked upwards at the one speaking with a crazed, far-off look.
"A-are you alright?" she asked.
"You seem... overloaded."
The scent of blood was gone, but the forest smells were still there. But they were alive with nuance, intensifying and fading with the wind. Ayhan could hear the faint gurgling or a stream, and there was an deep, earthen scent lying beneath the smell of trees. This was not that place.
"I'm fine," Ayhan forced out.
"Thank you."
Though it seemed the girl had more to say or ask, Ayhan's attention wandered, or rather snapped to something else. Eyes flicked to the side as he heard Mahsa's voice, followed by that of another.
"What about you, uuhm... Nir Si?"
"Nope, but...it kinda reminds me of home. Lots of trees to climb. You ever climbed a tree before?"
Lips curled back into a faint snarl, a quiet, almost imperceptible rumbling from his throat, pupils dilated. If Ayhan had canine ears, they would've pinned back against his skull. She found it easy to flirt it seemed. Damned cats.
"Padawans."
The elder male voice halted whatever Ayhan was contemplating, and began to gather the Padawans. Ayhan looked briefly up at the girl who'd approached him, before standing and brushing some dirt off his robes.
"We should go," he said, before walking towards the gathering place.
The Padawans formed a small half-circle around the Knights, and Ayhan pointedly took up a space beside
Mahsa
, though refused to look at her as he crossed his arms. The Knights began to explain what the exercise would entail, and slowly, one by one, each of the Padawans wrote their name down on a piece of paper and placed it in the box.
When Ayhan went to pick up the writing instrument, it nearly snapped in two in his tight-fisted grip, and when he wrote down the five letters making up his one and only name, they were blocky and shaky, like they'd been written by a toddler. He could hide the shaking when he stood, arms crossed, knuckles white as they gripped his arms, but he couldn't keep it from affecting his writing, it seemed.
Too much like the lab. Too much like the trials. All that was missing was the killing. No killing, no killing, no killing. Lose your headband, lose your life. Lose your headband, lose your life. Lose, lose your life.
By the time Ayhan grabbed his headband and tied it around his arm like a bloodied bandage, every muscle in his body was tense, everything in his body screamed. To fight, to flee. Do anything. Anything to stay alive. Lose your headband, lose your life. Lose your life. When Ayhan returned to his place in the half-circle, he stood just a little closer to Mahsa, not paying any attention to what color her headband was. Lose your life.
Loomi
|
Nir Si
|
Anneliese Kaohal
| @andOtherCoolKids