I was bored this night and decided to write below; it is very rough, but it is a portion of what I do. I don't have a lot of free time, so I write the story in sections, and, in the end, piece them together.
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Blood and bone mixed with the mud and moss. Broken and battered, she laid as the slow marching steps of the Necron warriors move pass her, uncaring to the broken shell of a human, reading her as no threat. Footstep after footstep in perfect marching order, thumping rhythm in the mud. Her finger twitches in a last effort to move, to stand, to raise her bolter one last time to fire, but with all of that inner hatred, her body can only respond with a twitch.
A deep sorrow, like a tide, fills her. She had failed. She had lead her Order to failure. The emptiness is strange for her, always filled with the light and knowledge of the Emperor., but at this moment, all she can sense is darkness, gnawing at her soul. She fought hard. She gave it her all. She has fought in the Emperor's name on more than twenty one battlefields, but this time her strength and spirit can no longer sustain her, and the gnawing darkness approaches, dimming her vision, cooling her touch, and ebbing the pain away.
NO. A voice within beacons. A light. Pinprick. Growing. The darkness, as if it was alive, flees. The worldly sights around her is overcome by the light, Necrons, earth and all. A heavy hand, a large hand, paws her shoulder like a father would. TRUTH. Olivia turns, facing the light, and sees a large shadow with an outstretch hand. She grasped it.
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With hope, I shall write on this later!
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