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A Child Lost ((OOC comments welcome))

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Ok ... I'm just going to do. Yes ... no, wait. *flees back to corner* It's not ready yet. Gah fine, ok here it is. Dustyn's story. Kind of like what I posted in "The Story So Far Part 2" but expanded on and somethings changed. Feel free to comment or what nots and gum drops. *Hides back in corner*






A single flower stood tall against the onslaught that marred the once peaceful and quiet landscape. All around it sat craters and shrapnel, footprints tracked through mud soaked by blood. Tremors rocked the dirt underneath it threatening to knock the small plant loose, but it's roots were deep and it would not give up its delicate hold.


A foot lands just to the left of the flower another to the right, followed by a pair of knees crashing harshly into the dirt. A hand still clutching a long bow braced itself against the ground while the other pressed tightly against the stomach of the bent figure. A warm red liquid trailed between fingers to the ground below, some landing on the lone flower causing it to bend under the added weight.


The figure, a small miqo'te archer grunted softly, clenching her jaw as she forced herself upright, her feet digging deeply into the ground. She reached back over her shoulder pulling an arrow from her nearly empty quiver, notching it against the bow string. Her hands shook with exhaustion as she pulled the string taut, the wood bending under the pressure before snapping back as the string was released and the arrow launched.


She grasped another arrow slipping easily into a rhythm taught to her long ago, "Notch, draw …"


"and release." her teacher recited.


"Don't you need to aim."


The old veteran chuckled softly, "Yes little one. You do, however ..." He walked over to the seven year old adjusting her elbow slightly as she drew her bow. "In a real battle your enemy will not wait for you to line up your shot. Shoot for center mass, it is the largest part of the body and the hardest to miss."


He took a step back and waited for her to fire, "you're still taking too long to aim. Trust your eyes they know where the arrow must go. It should be one single motion ..."


"I know. Notch, draw ... "


"Release." her arrow buried itself deep into the chest of another garlean soldier.  


A flash of silver caught her eye and she quickly dropped to the ground. Her hat flew off as it's brim was caught on the blade aimed for her head. She rolled backwards attempting to put some distance between her and her attacker but the soldier pressed the advantage. The man swung his sword quickly, pushing forward giving her no time to ready her own weapon.


Her feet tangled under her causing her to take her eyes off the garlean for a split second as she fought to keep her balance. Turning back she saw the sword coming down at her and a flash of blue race past her. The soldier froze mid action encased in ice. She silently thanked the mage and prepared to deliver the final blow.


As her fingers released the bow string a loud crash filled the air and a shockwave threw her and those around to the ground. She looked up just in time to see the sky glow a bright red as Dalamud cracked and finally explode. Time seemed to stand still as she watched the large primal set fire to the world, destroying everything in it’s path. Both Garlean or Eorzean alike felt it’s wrath.


She watched as shield spells burst to life, cracked, and shattered in a matter of mere moments. Part of her mind screamed at her to run, that there was nothing she could do against the creature. But her feet remained planted firmly in the mud, her eyes transfixed on a sight that was almost as breathtaking as it was destructive.


She faintly recalled people mentioning how when faced with death their life would flash before their eyes or they would think about their loved ones. But standing there, watching Bahamut set fire to the world, she couldn’t help think about how incredibly wet her socks were. It was like having miniature oceans in her boots and she didn’t even want to think about what they were wet with, cause she was pretty sure it wasn’t water. At least not exclusively.


She wasn’t even suppose to be here. She had come looking for her father. Finding him just the day prior with the intention of joining the battle. Her father had told her to return home, that the fight would be too dangerous, but she refused. She would not let her father march into battle alone, but in the chaos of the fighting they had become separated and now she no longer knew if the he yet lived.


A large explosion pulled her from her thoughts, she could feel the heat of the primal’s attacks searing against her skin as they crashed into the ground. A failed summoning of the twelve only seemed to have angered it more, her hand tightened around the bow as she waited for the end to come.


A blue light burst up around her causing her to stumble backwards in shock, her foot dragging over the soil pressing the blood stained flower against the mud. Then just as quickly as it came the blue light disappeared taking the small archer with it.


Freed from the weight pressing down on it the small plant pulled itself from the muck, battered and crushed it stood bravely until, finally in a shower of fire and stone it to joined the ever growing list of casualties from the Battle of Carteneau Flats.

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You're brave to step forth and share.  I enjoyed it...good job :thumbsup:  +1


:D Thank you!


I'm really glad that you decided to share this. I enjoyed reading it a lot. I liked how you linked the flower's plight to your character's. I'm going to read your other stuff now!


Thanks :D


I wasn't sure about doing the flower 'thing' it's pretty different from how I normally write. I haven't really done any serious writing in a few years, so I was kind of nervous about posting this. Especially with all the amazing writers that are on the forum. I think this ended up more descriptive then my past stuff.

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