Thread: ღ LadyAthene's Writing Samples ღ

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Tears Hidden Within The Rain Introduction Post Freya Eight years. Eight long, painful years ... The musings came from a lone woman who was residing in her mostly empty residence. If anyone were to walk by the correct window, they would see her hair was still somewhat damp and little more than a single towel was wrapped around her body, keeping her most sensual areas hidden all the while. The single female, twenty-year-old Freya, was staring at herself in a mirror not out of vanity, but rather, to determine the best outfit to select. Although the occasion was a serious one, she could afford to look elegant. A kimono wouldn't kill her. ... And yet, to Freya, it didn't feel ... right. Maybe if this was for celebrating her father's birthday instead of the day he died. ... Who the fuck are you joking or trying to fool? He didn't die. He was outright murdered. Her teeth held her lower lip for a few moments and before the woman could stop herself, the cruel reminder as to why she was in the here and now alone, orphaned, and full of so much hate and anger. A younger, preteen version of Freya formed within her mind. Beside her, kneeling at the dinner table, was her father, Tyr. Even though he ran an organization which didn't have the most honest of men, he himself was truthful. It was what ended up leading to his wife leaving him. Admittedly, even Freya had been taken aback when she first learned what exactly he did. Her father just didn't seem like the type to run a group of assassins. But ... she had visited the headquarters a few times. Sure, there were the occasional 'punks' or 'tough guys'. All in all though, they seemed to respect and heed Tyr, obeying every order they were given without question. It had been on this exact same day the eighteenth day of May, eight years ago, when her life was all but turned upside down. Three loud, consecutive knocks disturbed what was supposed to be a typical evening between a father and daughter eating a peaceful dinner. Voi! I'm here to claim your title! Freya's brows furrowed as she glanced her. Her father wasn't merely any man. No. What the foreign voice had said was ture he was indeed an owner of a title. Freya was the only child of Tyr, the Sword Emperor and head of the Varia Familigia. Daaaaad, she whined, crossing her arms over her chest, Don't! It's our time together! Unfortunately, the banging against the front door didn't cease. If anything, it started getting more persistent. Whomever had called out to Tyr really wanted to have a chance to beat him in a fight. It was a sight Freya had seen before. Given her father was still known as the Sword Emperor, it was obvious what her eyes had been greeted with. She always saw her father win. Yet for some reason, butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. And it was definitely not in the good way. She was nervous. Scared. Terrified. Something that could be easily seen in her blue-grey eyes, which were now looking pleadingly to her only surviving family member. It's okay, he reassured, lightly patting her shoulder as he stood up, I'll be back soon enough. But otou-san! Freya sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to win this argument. She never had before. Why would tonight be different? As such, it only seemed fair that she would be able to go about her routines when days like this arrived. Slowly, the preteen slid out of her chair and dropped to her hands and knees, keeping herself low to the ground as she crawled towards the window closest to the front door, which offered the best view for her to watch. All the while, she would stay hidden. Discreet. Only people in the Varia Familigia even knew Freya existed. The rest of the world, however, was blissfully ignorant of her existence something that was - as Tyr often vowed - for the best. For her own good, to be more accurate. One of the first things Freya took note of was the opponent. He was ... young! About her age, barely older! That alone made her head tilt. Why did he feel so sure he could beat Tyr? Wasn't her father, by default, more skilled than this boy? Either way, it didn't stop him from backing down and soon, the fray officially began. Blade met a new source of steel, clashing violently against it. Freya couldn't help but smile. If nothing else, the young boy was brave and ... actually pretty talented. Her gaze shifted, now focusing on the missing arm. Her father had willingly cut it off. Apparently, it was a way to strengthen himself. Suffice to say, when Freya did a double take, her mouth fell agape. ... H-He ... also cut his arm off?! Is he insane?! This was now starting to look like less of a fight and more like her father had met his darkest, most obsessed fan ever. In fact, the longer the fight lasted, the more it looked as if Freya were staring at a mirror. And she understood why. He also knows otou-san's sword style?! Okay. Now this teenager was starting to piss her off. Freya was feeling less like hiding and more as if she needed to storm out and scold the other boy. She would never acknowledge him as a sword fighter. Not when he was trying to act and look like little more than a copy cat. By the time Freya attempted to heed her muscles, everything stopped, including time itself. Not literally, though it definitely felt like it did. Her eyes widened as she watched the boy's blade find its mark and was now protruding out from her dad's chest. STOP! She wanted to scream, to cry out. But fear kept her in place. What would happen to her if she was found out? She didn't know and Freya now better began to understand what her father had meant earlier. Situations like this could truly become dangerous, more so than they already were, in mere seconds. Tears formed in her eyes as she watched everything else from the sword being yanked out to her father's body collapsing onto the grass, and finally the boy walking arrogantly away, snickering and laughing. Only when Freya was certain he was out of eye-shot did she run out, kneeling beside her father. O-Otou-san?! No! Wait! Hang on, please! F-Freya ... A weak smile crossed the ex-Sword Emperor's face as a shaky hand rose, attempting to hold one of Freya's smaller hands. I'll ... be .... That was as far as he got. Fingers never got to intertwine. Before that could even begin to occur, Tyr's hand fell down, landing atop his chest. No. Father?! Please! Don't leave me! FATHER! FATHER! Freya gasped, digging her fingernails tightly into her palms. The pain made her hiss. At the same time, it also succeeded in bringing her back to the present. A new set of tears formed, threatening to fall. Her own right arm quickly raised, wiping any droplets away. She wouldn't cry. Not yet. I'm going to fucking kill him, she vowed, speaking as if Tyr were behind her instead of deceased. The murder of her only parent - well, the only one who took care of her - took one of the worst tolls possible on Freya. She gave up almost everything her usual school life, a good number of the mannerisms she'd been taught, among many other things. All so she could avenge Tyr. It had taken at least three to four years, but Freya learned over time the name of the man who killed her father. That man held the name of Squalo Superbi, whom - coincidentally enough - was one of the current members of Varia. Although Freya had no desire to take over her father's company, she did want to cleanse it. Force anyone she didn't view as worthy to leave which, more likely than not, would mean anyone else who was also aligned with Squalo. Alas, for now, her main target was the same silver-haired male she'd seen all those years ago. Nodding firmly to herself, Freya deftly pulled the towel off, sliding into a martial arts outfit . Between the belt holding the hakama up, she would slip Tyr's sword between the fabric. Inheriting his blade had been the right thing to do or so Freya believed as much. Her hand gripped the pommel firmly as she withdrew the blade quickly yet carefully, ensuring she didn't accidentally hurt herself. Taking a few moments to study the blade, she nodded again, feeling satisfied that the sword was as eager and hungry for Squalo's blood as the woman wielding the weapon. Soon after Freya learned Squalo's name, she spent the past few years stalking him from a distance. Oh how hard it had been to simply watch but take no actions. So she was very happy that tonight, she wouldn't need to hold back. ... But first thing was first. And that wouldn't yet mean taking Squalo's life. No. Before that, she needed to visit her father. Reaching behind, Freya grabbed her hair, navigating it into a tight ponytail. Keeping it held, she slid a hair band off of her right wrist and began wrapping it around her dark locks, letting it fall as she finished securing her hair. I'll be there soon, father, she whispered softly, turning and walking off to the graveyard where Tyr was buried six feet underneath the earth.