Snippet #1667555

The fight was finally over, all three gargoyles dispatched by Helena's speed, poisons, and steel, but there would be more. Hell's Angles knew where they were. They had to move, and soon, but how could they with two injured people and no way of knowing where their enemies were and who they could trust or not? How could Etoille move when she could barely even think past the confusion in her mind?

After the skirmish, Helena made her way to the Bishop and attempted to paint a picture of gentle kindness on her face, offering him medicine with a plastic smile before giving up on the charade, "Ah, hell, do you want my help or not?"

Even through all of what had just happened to them, the imbalance of power in their home, the murder of their families and friends, the betrayal each of them suffered, Helena still maintained herself. She still knew who she was. How? Etoille wondered. Her world was comming apart at the seams and the Demon "Princess" with the magical hair felt like she was too. Her family was dead, she knew, except for one, her life would never be the same, and then this human that said he steals the young from their homes just became injured in her defense? Everything Etoille knew was crumbling into pieces and falling into an endless black pit. Only one thing was truly certain: I'm not in Hell anymore...

She sat hunched against a craggy, gray stone wall with her pitch black hair balled into fists about her temples. It was streaked with undulating shades of dark grey, turning her head into the beginnings of an angry thunderstorm. Her elegant gown was scuffed at the knees and was becoming stained by the muck and grime, but Etoille couldn't care less. What's the point? she though What's the point of fighting back if they are just going to outnumber us and kill all us anyway? All we are doing is fighting the inevitable. How can we win a war without an army?!? That thought shocked her. Who was this girl inside her head? It was not the Etoille she had been all her life. This was not the confident, regal princess that had been so fair and loving whenever a dispute was called to her attention. This was not the same girl that had just escaped death while everyone else crumbled. This girl was foolish and weak, and Etoille hated her.
The princess felt her anger well up and she screamed at the coward inside her YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE! Get OUT and never come back!!! You want a point? LOOK AT THEM! They are your army, she though, directing herself to the poor orphans and Helena and Bishop and Ross. She looked with tears welling in her eyes an lump attempting to burrow itself a home in her throat, They are the only point you need, stupid girl. Who knows what the new order in hell is going to do the balance of all things? They are in danger. They are the ONLY point you need. Would you rather Helena's and Bishop's sacrifice be for nothing? Would you rather give up now and take the knife to your own throat?
That cowardly part of Etoille shrunk back from the fiery rage and mumbled, Maybe it would be for the best... Etoille could not believe herself. Who was she becoming? No! She would not fall into this trap of her own design!
YOU ARE A PRINCESS! she raged YOU ARE ROYALTY! You, not only owe it to you subject to attempt to restore order, but you owe it to yourself! You owe it to Dar!
She gasped weakly. Brother...
Yes. You're brother! If you give up now, you are killing him. You might as well stab him yourself, you murderer, her rage spat at her in the confines of her own mind.
No... I--
You what? If it is going to be an excuse, spare me. The only one you'd be lying to is yourself.
Etoille was taken aback by the irony she had created in that sentence. She looked at the whole situation for a split second, and could not help but to burst out laughing the loudest and most insane sounding thing anyone had every heard, all the while tears were streaming down her face from black eyes creating streaks of skin that were slightly lighter than the surrounding dirt that had already began to collect about her face. What was wrong with her? Did she finally break?
No, she assured herself, you're just making progress.

And that's all she could do.

As the laughter ran it's course and died, her feelings of doubt stopped adding sharpness to their bite. She realized people were staring at her. She could care less. It was as if a bit of laughing and a bit of crying was all she needed to do to get this horrible feeling off of her chest. She pulled herself up to her feet, not caring that her dress was ruffled or that her warm-brown hair was a dirty and a bit matted, and strolled over to where Helena was with Bishop. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, sniffling slightly and adding a gentle smile, hoping against hope that they would forgive her for her mistake.