Bandit’s life flashes in front of her eyes as she is about to find peace within the arms of a fallen. Was she accepting her death, or was this last explosion of memories to make her realize the little girl she had forgotten?
Scene setting : The Maze of Greed – Seven Sins series.
Co-written with Dessy, Artie and Phyln.
Dessy: Mariela shot a look towards Raul, but said nothing else on the matter. “Scar…” she said when he snarled, but said nothing more. She looked up at Habib, giving a nod before being handed Bandit. She actually struggled a little bit to hold her up this time, walking over to a nearby fountain and kneeling down, layign Bandit down in front of it… but it wasn’t as easy as it was before.
She turned around hearing Raul’s begging voice, and cocked her head at the tears in his eyes. “You actually care for her.” she spoke out loud. “You have a funny way of showing it.” she then spoke. “Hurting her to where she’s an inch away from death and placing a collar on her like a dog isn’t a very good way to show you “love her”.” she then snapped, before looking at Bandit.
She moved her hand around, sprouting a few vines to wrap around Bandit’s injured leg. They glowed slightly, healing the leg. “You don’t have to give your life. As much as I’d love to kill you for everything you’ve done, there’s no need.” she spoke. She could hear the gasps come from Tessa and her brothers, but the witch just rolled her eyes. “Come on, Bandit.” she then said, leaving her hand over the vine wrapped around the leg, greatening the healing magic occasionally.
Mariela whipped her head around when Scar snarled again. “Scar! Let him go.” she spoke. “He’s not going to do anything.” she spoke, before turning her gaze towards Raul. “If he does, I’ll be more than happy to take care of him myself.”
. . .
Whispers of many, voices garbled together in a chorus of words that Bandit could not understand. Flashing lights consumed her eyes, scenes that she could not focus on from her memory encasing her, consumed with the unconsciousness of her physicality as her life flashed before her eyes. Bandit’s mind was a chorus of crescendos, an orchestrated chaos. While she would remain limp physically and paled, on the brink of death, life surged within her in a rush of force greater than it ever had before. The lights grew faster in speed, the whispers had begun a hissing and definite roar – so much so that she wished to cover her ears and scream to make it stop, to halt the yells. Pieces of her past conversations of all sorts mentally assaulted her, loud over the whispers.
“Mommy, I’m scared.” A small girl’s voice.
“I know baby.. Be strong, Beatrix. Be strong.” An older and mature woman voice.
“Mama!” The girl was crying now, a shuffle as a chorus of yelling began, men, a gunshot..
“I hate you!” Teenage girl, screaming through tears.
“You should never have been born!” A man, older. Slurred words. Drunk.
Louder, more voices of whispering.
“Don’t touch me, don’t touch- Don’t touch me!“
The whispers began to be overpowering.
Sobbing, soft and muffled, as though a young woman was crying herself to sleep..
A single memory found itself to her subconscious. A better time, before she had earned her nickname. Back when her name was not Bandit.. but Beatrix. When she sustained enough innocence to be nothing more than a human, with issues but otherwise unscathed by the future hardships of the world in front of her.. The world that she would know to be cruel and unforgiving, willing to allow a woman to die for its own entertainment. To sit back and watch as a girl who had only tried to live became nothing more than a chew toy for others to tug-o-war with..
“Mama?” Beatrix asked, held in her mother’s loving arms. “Yes, my dear?” The woman had kind eyes and dark hair, but her eyes were a striking blue – cold, if not for the warm smile always planted on her face. Cold, if not for the lovingness that always came from her, the willingness to be there for what was her pride and joy.. The small girl held in her arms. Blue eyes gazed back into the woman’s, but these were duller. They were not striking, but simply calming, as if gazing into an ocean. Her blonde hair was pure and untainted, much like the soul within her. Beatrix could not have been older than six, perhaps maybe four or five..
“Why isn’t Daddy home?” Beatrix’s eyes were merely curious, lacking sadness and not yet understanding the concept…
“Daddy had to go out and see his friends. He’s drinking his medicine, sweetie.” The woman’s face faltered for a split second – one that Beatrix would not note, gazing down at her mother’s beautiful curls and looking back up to the smile that made the young girl smile in return. Oblivious. Ignorance was bliss..
A sudden and loud thud would then make the woman look up, from down the hall.. Something was different. It was not the knocking over of objects.. It was a gunshot. “Honey. Beatrix, baby.” Amoria crouched down to gaze at her daughter. “You need to go to the closet, and I need you to hide. Daddy’s medicine didn’t work today, he’s feeling sick. Okay?”
“Mommy,” Beatrix’s face had fallen. “I’m scared..” She sudden began to gaze around. Another crash further down the hall. Loud footsteps.. Her father’s friends had come along?
“I know, baby. Be strong, Beatrix. Be strong.” With a waving motion, Amoria would then turn to have her back towards Beatrix, standing at full height as though ready to protect her child. Beatrix did not recognize the bruises on her mother’s wrists back then.
Beatrix’s eyes widened as she suddenly was overcome with fear, waddling with her small and inexperienced feet towards her mother, seeking warmth and comfort that she would never again feel – “Mama!”
The door burst open.
. . .
Bandit burst awake, tears in her eyes as she gasped, sitting up. A hand flinged itself over her chest, oxygen coming slowly to her as it was painful to breathe. The flood of emotions drowned her, the waves overtook her body as she was suddenly consumed in painful sobs. It hurt to cry, her chest burned with each breath. Movements sent flames throughout her body.. She was consumed with pain, the intense healing on her already weak human body nearly shattering it. Her blue eyes held even more emotional pain that physical, the emotions perhaps restricting her breaths more than her actual injuries. “Fuck! Fuck!” Each word was breathless, mixed with a choking cough.
“I can’t.. breathe!” She was breathing, but it didn’t feel like air was going through to her. For the first time in her short life, Bandit had broken down. Even Raul’s mind games had not broken her. Her first love leaving had not broken her. The death of her mother had not broken her. The abandonment of her father had not broken her. But now, with all of it coming back at once, she broke into a million pieces. A million small fragments of the girl she had been. Tender, stripped of emotions and guards that years had prepared her for putting up.. And now they had been stripped down, leaving her defenseless in front of so many people.
Her legs had ceased to bleed and now she could feel them, the dull and numb feeling that coursed from him into her core. She was a mess of tears and blood, her hair dirty in contrast to the innocent blonde it had once been in her memory. The dull blue and clueless eyes in her past were now bright and shining from the tears once within them. They had become striking, they were striking. She did not have the same warmth as her mother. The cold had consumed her – she had not consumed it…
For once, in her life, Bandit felt a need for warmth. A need..
“Someone hold me!” The words were gasped, her body shaking as she was continuously healed – it was a necessary evil for her to live, but in her conscious state it only brought her pain..
Phyln: His grasp was final he was not the reaper but he entertained the idea that he was the janitor of the dead, he did not farry souls over the river or collect them from the world of the living. No his was a much simpler task more often than not when the ever flowing tides of chaos removed another damned being from its eternal or rather not so eternal existence in hell he would sweep away the remnants of the power it had once possessed. grabbing a hold of the soul he began the process of adding it to his collection, dragging the spirit towards him it struggled clearly still clinging to the life it once had. However it was too late it had no where to go, even if he released it where would it run to. it was not hard to hold onto a soul when it has no where to go slowly he dragged it across the ethereal plain into the bag. as it entered the strings on the bag drew them selves closed over what to the mortal eye would appear to be nothing. opening his eyes with his task finished he fastened the bag to his belt and raised one hand in prayer. “May your eternal rest be peaceful for you have served your damnation”. his prayers were little more than ceremony at this point offering nothing than words to the dead. He turned and began his treck out of the maze at his usual brisk pace.
Greed: The Masquerade Ball : Maze
The passing of Lydia’s soul over into the bag after putting up such a struggle meant the end of the reign of the Princess of Greed. All her magical power was now within the young witch, whether she realized this or not. Would the witch end up being cursed just as the other heads of Greed had been, or will this be the dawning of a new era? Anything was possible, least that is how things were happening up further in the now beautiful maze.
A woman who had been beaten within an inch of her life, and forced to wear a collar that’s magic drained the wearer was so close to death that nothing that the Warlock or even the fallen could do to stop the inevitable. However, it was within this moment, when life is slipping away that we look back one last time at all that has happened to us over the course of our lives. With the group watching on – fearful that Bandit would die, they were unaware that she was experiencing this near death slide show of her life, from child hood till the bitter end. It is interesting that it is not one single event in our lives that makes us who we are, but rather it is like an enormous patch work quilt. Each piece sewn together with an array of emotions and feelings that either create something beautiful and a treasure or something akin to a nightmare visage.
Stripped away of everything and all the fail safes that had been set into place to create a fierce wall in which to protect her from further harm had now crashed down into a pile of rubble, leaving Bandit exposed to everything….and all at once.
Yes, the witch was able to somehow stop the bleeding and heal the physical, but what she couldn’t do was heal the heart….the mind. Behind those terrified eyes lay a broken soul. A timid child. Cold…and frightened. Her heart eclipsed for so so long.
Scar growled as he slowly released his grip on Raul’s throat and fell back, only to watch on as Mariela did her best to heal the young girl. He crouched down beside Mariela, his eyes riddled with concern. The alp was the demon of nightmares who had been called on especially by Lydia for his talents, and he whispered to Mariela.
“I can see….what she is seeing.” The more the alp witnessed the more shocked he was. The poor girl had been through so much, and it only made him hate the Warlock with a renewed passion. Scar grit his teeth and snorted through his nostril as he waited to see if the girl would make it through.
Thankfully, Bandit’s spirit was a strong one. A fighter to the very core. Her first words as she started to come around showed that same spunk. “Fuck! Fuck!” This brought something of a relieved collective sigh, but it was what she said following, that made all realize she was not out of the woods.
“I can’t.. breathe!”
Scar threw up his hands and sat back. “I’m not doing it.” One of the things that an alp does to a victim is sit upon their chest so they feel that they can’t breathe. It had to be something else causing it. With dark marks upon his throat, Raul again stepped forward, wanting so much now to help Bandit. The only problem was, someone stood in his way.
“Turn around…and walk away.” The fallen’s wings opened out in the full to protect Bandit who was still on the ground, now shivering. Habib would simply not have Raul hurt her again. “It’s over. Return to Lust where you belong.” The two men faced off, Habib’s face was like stone as he refused to give quarter. He had seen Raul hurt Bandit over and over again. For the first time in centuries, the Warlock lowered his head. He had lost. The worst part was that it was in losing her that he truly realized what his real feelings were. This was the price he would pay for the rest of his days in Hell.
The sounds of Bandit crying out for someone to hold her brought out a pained look from Raul. Oh how much he wanted to hold her, to cherish her now and tell her that he loved her. Sadly, it would not be him. Sighing, he turned away from the scene, his hands clenched into fists and he strode away – vanishing from the Maze of Greed.
With the Warlock gone, Habib returned to Bandit’s side and attempted to lift her up into his powerful arms. He hoped to give her the warmth and comfort she needed. Especially now.
“I’m here for you, Bandit.”
Scar rose to his feet, and gestured with his hand for Mariela’s. It was now a time to breathe, and let Mariela have a chance to speak with her family – her brothers and her friend Tessa. The Alp knew that they had a lot to catch up on.
“Why don’t we get out of this maze and head up to your castle, my Lady?” He smiled brightly at the new Princess of Greed, and waited to see her reaction. After all, he said ‘my’ again.
Dessy: Mariela watched Bandit, occasionally her eyes moving to the leg that she was trying to heal. Scar came beside her, and when he whispered about being able to see everything, she turned her head to him. “What do you see?” she then whispered back, but Bandit popped up a few minutes later. With a wave of her hand, the vines disappeared and Mariela stayed on her knees, her hands holding onto Bandit’s shoulders. “Bandit, it’s okay.” she said, her face growing to concern when she said she couldn’t breathe.
Mariela grabbed and pulled Bandit into a hug, holding her as her eyes stared at Habib and Raul, her eyes shooting daggers into Raul. “Bandit, it’s okay. You’re safe.” she spoke, her voice calm and soothing as she held Bandit in a hug. When Raul turned around and walked away, Mariela’s eyes followed him until he had disappeared. She then pulled away from Bandit so Habid could pick her up. “Take care of her, and whatever you do, don’t let Raul touch her again.” she spoke.
She looked up when Scar held his hand, giving him a smile before she put her hand in his and stood up. When Scar spoke, she gave another smile and nodded her head, before turning to look at Habib. “If you need anything, or she needs help or anything, you can come see me anytime you want. But, please, keep her away from Raul.” she spoke, before turning back to Scar.
She gave him a smile, nodding her head. “Let’s go… my Scar.” she said, fully aware she used the word “my” to describe him, and she just ended up grinning. She turned to motion to Tessa and her brothers, telling them to follow, and after the trio all looked at each other with raised eyebrows at the way they called each other “my”, they shrugged before following behind the two.