Thread: Destruction's Right Hand (Razgriz & WritingxDreamer)

The air was stagnant, almost suffocating. If there was once any moisture around her it was surely gone. She was sure, at one point, that this area may have been a lush forest or even a prosperous city. But now? It was nothing more than a miserably uninhabitable desert. One that she found herself now of all times. Every muscle in her body ached and screamed for a break, one that she couldnt afford to take with her life on the line. The leather of her makeshift armor stuck to her skin from the sweat that dripped from her pours. It was comforting at least, to know that she was hydrated enough to sweat. She hadnt had anything to drink in a few days and her throat was painfully dry. She attempted to take a quick breath, but the only purpose that served was to renew the stench of death that surrounded her. Her stomach twisted and she had to fight to keep down any liquids she might have left. Thats right.. she was alone out here. Her bright green eyes, dulled by the harsh reality around her, scanned her surroundings. On practically every side she saw fallen comrades, rebellion members, just like herself, that had fallen in battle. She couldnt cry, no, the tears had dried up many years ago. Now the only thing left for her to do was survive. Is that all of them? A deep throated laugh echoed around her, causing her to subconsciously crouch down behind the sand dune she had found for sanctuary. I thought I saw another. A second voice was heard, this one far less amused than the first. But does it really matter? Theres no way someone would make it through this desert alone. Especially after a battle like that. Those rebel brats are just eating sand now. Anger built inside her, and the shaking of her body grew increasingly harsh. Those rebel brats were her family. They were the only thing that kept her from falling into the insanity of the so called future. Peeking around the corner of the sand dune, what she witness sent her over the edge. The body of her lover, the body of Adrian, was pillaged down to the last bullet he had in his vest. A burly man nudged his foot against the side of him, before kicking him harshly across the sand like it was some sort of sport. Before she even was conscious of actions, she felt her hand wrap around the handle of the knife she kept concealed under her vest. All her rage erupted in a hoarse cry of rage as she lunged from her spot toward the two males, her blade at the ready. --- Her surroundings suddenly clashed together and the desert faded away just as quickly as it had become a reality. The same girl gasped awake in her bed, looking around at the small room. A dream.. thats all it was. Just a dream. A horrible nightmare she never wanted to relive. Tossing the thin blanket she had aside, she stretched from the bed until her feet hit the cool wood of the ground beneath her. She took a shaky breath and stood up, making her way toward the semi shattered mirror across from her. It was enough, just enough for her to look at herself. Standing at 53, Gwendolyn Matthews was far from an ideal soldier. Her frame was petite, though still somewhat toned from her numerous athletic.. activities for the rebellion. She had light brown hair, cropped short for the most part except for two long pieces that hung past her shoulders. Link A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she eventually recovered from the earlier shock of a nightmare. It didnt take long before she changed out of the long shirt she wore for pajamas into her usual, more practical attire for survival. Today she had a job, a very particular job. She was posing as an ordinary mercenary who was one of the few in charge of protecting some cargo. It was a simple job, for her anyway, but it meant much more than just a simple task. I guess its going to be a long day.. Gwendolyn tugged on the long strands of her hair with a sigh. I should, get going..