Yeah, this is just a random post featuring a character who’s been dead for quite some time now.
The second scene that Annette was taken to was a far different one. Instead of being in a dingy alley with a dead body, she was now in a dark, cold room.
“Can whoever is doing that at least give me a warning before you send me through?” She asked to no one in particular.
Nearby, she could hear whimpering in an even darker corner of the room. A quick glance around showed her that she was in somebody’s basement.
Well, this only took me forever to actually do… (No, I still don’t tag nominees. I just don’t want anyone left out because everybody’s stories are that amazing)
Annette had expected the third room to be made up in some sort of bronze or copper color, in keeping with the wallpaper theme of the other two, but it wasn’t.
Instead, the walls in this room looked to be made of dark, solid wood. Affixed to them were several holy relics that put Annette on edge just to look at.
This time, it was the body of Horse-Face’s companion that occupied the chair in the center. Annette quickly assumed it wasn’t actually him inhabiting the body, however.
It felt as if all Meliora could do for now was block all her sister’s attacks. Malum didn’t leave any openings whatsoever for her to get through.
One particular swing of her hunting knife was enough to knock Meliora to the ground. It took all she had to keep a hold of the blade she was carrying.
“Damn sis,” Malum said as she taunted her twin, “you’ve been getting rusty over all these years.”
(So in case you haven’t noticed I really like Nightwish-)
The next room was decorated in a similar way as the first, but in silver instead of gold. Annette tried not to let herself get distracted by it as she approached the second throne.
It broke her heart to see the stuffed body of her daughter sitting in front of her, almost to the point of breaking down again. She tried keeping her tears in, though, and approached her.
“Mommy loves you no matter what, Samira…” Annette then reached out to touch Samira’s face.
The young man that sat before Annette now couldn’t be much older than fourteen.
His appearance was likely that of the typical goth wannabe, with the black lipstick and everything. His expression was one of utter dismay, as he breathed unevenly from all the commotion.
After another second or two, he got on his hands and knees and went to look in the other room.