#I'll be interested to see if anyone can get Lyra to show her dark side lol

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Writeblr Battle Royale, Lyra - Round 1

Oh Anuli 😭

Anyway.

Joined the @writeblrbattleroyale event and entered Lyra as one of my OCs to fight to the death!! And, well...I mean Lyra would do it except she's got an impulse to help/defend the ones that she can. So when she spotted @anulithots 's Anuli in the arena she just...really...couldn't...hurt fae. She wants to pick fae up and cuddle her until things are okay. But she's been in something similar enough to this that she knows how this goes and doesn't want fae to have to go through this again and again and again...so she makes a choice.

Content warnings for self-deprecating/ can be read as mild su*cidal ideation

Wordcount: 1,610

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Static. 

The story restarted with static. 

As it did. Every time. Every cycle. Leading to nothing but this ending and this ending alone. Some false lead that I may have won. That I might have written a happy ending. Or an unhappy one in this case… only to be blinded to a plot twist of my own making. 

How utterly ironic. The villain messed with faer own motives. Antagonistic, even to faerself. All I needed was an evil laugh. My realization arc would be complete. 

…As soon as my weight stopped tipping from side to side and I figured out if those spark-rimmed dark spots were real or not, and the static stopped consuming me whole. 

Plot holes and darling murders. 

I must have fallen. The tether finally snapped. Into the static I went. Into a happy ending, a release, a freedom I didn’t deserve…. How could it be a sequel? No one likes sequels. It was already the end after all. The villain got faer unhappy ending. It should’ve stayed that way. 

Sequels were narratively impossible. The story was over, all loose threads, resolved, one can’t write a continuation to something forgotten and finished. The only way to do it was a narrative spiral and even that… It hurts. My leaves smarted as the black spots danced. 

The captured star broke from its container, shattering the shards in an explosion of light. The shards stuck in odd angles, flesh punctured, beads of blood tricking, pooling in my stomach. It roared, setting my skin on fire. The static swirled in my head, throbbing, throbbing… 

When did my heartbeat get so loud? Was I breathing? Yes, weird and hollow, but there. Why was it so loud? 

Another one of those spooky antagonist paradoxes. 

…. Oh that was ridiculous. 

….

….

My vision blurred in and out. Didn’t I get rid of- I swayed, back and forth. Thoughts fizzled and popped. Not again. I rubbed my head in circular motions. Feelings exist. Feelings exist. Do not float into oblivion. Why did my skin burn? Was it that hot? Was there even sun? It hurts. Shouldn’t it stop hurting after…. a while? 

Oh no. No no no nonono.

Lyra shook off her disorientation as the white began to fade from around her into the space beyond, revealing an arena. The walls rose up around them in stone, the dirt scuffling at her feet as her ears began to swivel and she took in the sights and sounds around her. She flinched when a box up high began speaking, flattening her ears to her head as she took a moment to adjust to the noise and the crackle of static.

A gamemaster? Contenders?! Opponents!?

“No!!” she yelled, wings snapping out to either side. “Not again!!”

She hadn’t even been playing with the scroll this time. She’d given up the search for him, had started trying to fight the darkness back home without his aid. She didn’t have time for this, she didn’t want to be stuck in another death-match tournament with an onlooker that watched bloodshed for amusement.

She glanced around. Her bow. Where was her bow!?!

She caught sight of the one that was supposed to be her opponent, Lyra spreading out her wings and readying herself to fly. To use magic if she needed, damn the consequences. She needed to get back home as fast as possible.

But the one across from her…they seemed…like they shouldn’t be here. They seemed lost, confused.

Lyra lowered her wings. Glanced around at the arena. Looked back at the one opposite her.

“...Are you okay?” She called out. She took the risk of approaching. They didn’t answer at first. So she tried again. “You look so frightened,” she said softly. “Do you…have wings?” She flexed her own a little, enough to make them move. “Can you fly? Maybe we can fly out of here together?”

The words- for they were words after all… maybe… probably - floated over my head and to some far off place.

The other fairy (?) flexed their wings and the static ricocheted.

Oh 

Oh no no no, absolutely not. Forget narrative symmetry and thoughts stop burning up and form coherent words….

Battle of the fates. 

Kill the fallen fairy. 

And the other one, some other high protector, took that archetype in every shape, way, and form. 

They should kill the fallen fairy, before they realize its true nature. An irredeemable mushed up mess of antagonistic traits that would inevitably mess this up. It was only a matter of some sick comedic timing. Sequels were ridiculous like that. I growled. It made my roots curl into themselves, static sparking. And like a sequel, the story was set on reusing the same plot structure, beginning, progressing, and ending the same way.

Kamari should’ve realized sooner. 

They should’ve realized sooner. 

Anuli the antagonist couldn’t fly. Anuli the antagonist couldn’t say things right or find faer tree or function whatsoever or get faer thoughts off faer ridiculous stories for two seconds for simple, simple things that Anuli the antagonist just couldn’t do. No matter how hard fae tried. Fae wasn’t trying to be an antagonist… at least, I hoped that was the case. But whenever I tried to fix things, it never worked. I was just… the antagonist. 

They would waste valuable time trying to further the narrative of the opposition. It would cost them. It would cost them their happy ending. 

I really needed to perfect that evil laugh. 

The ground swayed. The static roared.  I couldn’t even be an antagonist. It was so hot. So loud. 

A small, selfish thought imagined the other - the protagonist, the ‘opponent’ - giving me a hug and singing and a lullabye, making the Place of Tethers retreat. I hissed at it. Never again. I would not repeat the same story twice. 

I gripped my antenna and yanked until my muzzle stung. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Lyra muttered, backing away. Put her hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” She kept her voice soft. She glanced around. It sounded like this was a contest. Like there was another death match just beyond this one, and another and another and another. She glanced back at her ‘opponent’ and let out a sigh. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve…to have anyone hurt you, Kelouoyba. I’m so sorry for the pain you’ve gone through.”

She stood and backed away. “I’m going to make sure you don’t have to put up with this.” She glanced up at the white expanse above them. Raised her voice so she could be heard by the one no doubt watching. “And once I’m done here I’m coming for you, game master!!”

She would not go through this again. Would not watch as ones like this one were forced into fighting for their lives. Not ones that had clearly been through a lot. That had been through enough. That deserved peace.

Her wings stretched to either side and she took off into the air, keeping herself level with the top of the wall, just under where the wall turned into what looked like some sort of stands or seating of some kind. She turned her attention to the other one, began humming as she concentrated. Summoned her core magic from deep within. Reached out with hands and magic to connect with the earth directly under her opponent. Felt it as her magic connected to this strange ground, pushing with all her might to create a hole directly under them.

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

I deserve it. I ruined the same story multiple times. I’m a villain. An antagonist. 

It would be so much worse. I could either let the tether tighten, or fall to everything different. Both were wrong - false leads to the same ending.

And so the story continues. The villain ruins the stories of the ones who gave the antagonist faer own. 

“Akonh Kelouoyba!!” Use your wings, little one. She shouted it as angrily as she could, made it sound like a threat to help sell the idea that she was attacking using her magic, knowing that they likely couldn’t understand her even as her voice rattled in her throat, the cost of her magic.

The Protector shouted. Shouted. Angry. Or wanted something. Something that I couldn’t give. I winced. I did it again. Couldn’t get out of my own thoughts for two minutes to prevent this. Perhaps I was meant to play this role for eternity. Over and over and over and - 

The Protector… was angry, during a battle of the fates. 

Fae realized. 

The story’s over. 

Villain defeated.  

The static roared and the world collapsed to darkness. 

Once they fell she slammed the top of the earth shut with a loud hammering sound and landed on the very spot. She knew she had left an opening big enough and deep enough for them to be safe, so long as they were able to flutter down and reach the bottom. She placed her hand on the spot they had just been and whispered, “Rmhte, Kelouoyba.” Be safe, little one.

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Yeah. She's gonna try and fight her way up to the game master so she can kill him. She doesn't like being forced in these types of games and even more so now after Anuli. It'll be interesting to see how far she gets.

Also to see if she meets a certain OC that'll put her on edge and probably cause her to have a meltdown.

This was fun! ❤ I'm glad we got to write together and I can't wait for round 2!!

#writeblr battle royale #Lyra #Anuli #might not be the last we hear of her tho #I'll be interested to see if anyone can get Lyra to show her dark side lol #she does have one #she just doesn't show it