Her gentle Soul

"Cry!"

A faint sound could be heard.

"CRY!"

Cry? Why say cry? Whose crying?

"TA!"

Is someone yelling, or are they whispering?

"PLE…..IT HUR…..CRY!!!"

It sounds hazy, blurry, in pain...

"CRY TA"

Cry ta….

Why does that sound familiar…..

"KRYTA!!!"

That...That...That's my name!

But why or who is saying my name?

Why do I feel heavy? Why does my head hurt…..It really hurts. Oh no, oh no, it's really hurting.

A painful, violent, ringing can be heard along with the woeful pleas for help.

"KRYTA!!! WAKE UP! PLEASE!"

Kryta slowly began to regain her consciousness. Waking up from the dark void of mind and into the waking world engulfed by the Sun's warm comforting rays.

Despite that, the intense migraine hasn't quite gone away, just bearable.

"AHhahaaaaa! Oh KryTA! Please, please, wake up! Please help me!" Is that Salem? Why is she screaming?

"IT HURTS! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE GET UP!" her voice was hoarse, it pitched up in pain. Her cries of fear and terror were evident in her voice. It sounded so real.

Real.

Her eyes fluttered, retreating from the sudden change in brightness. Adjusted, Kryta saw a bright blue sky, a sky speckled with blurs of white. The Sun was glittering as bright as always, shining it's light right on top of her, cradling her with warmth. It only took a short while for to realize she was lying on her back on top of a pile of rubble.

Just what happened? Kryta tried remembering what happened before she lost consciousness, but no matter how hard she tried recalling the previous events, she had no results to show for it. She was about to roll back into a slumber til remembered why she woke up. Her eyes shot open fast as she rushed to get up with only one word on her mind.

Salem.

The reason she woke up was because someone was crying in agony, desperately screaming, begging for help, the pain quite evident in her voice. How long was she asleep for? How long has Salem been in pain for, howling in pain, cries carried by the winds turned into a whistle for everyone to listen to only have no one to hear her pitiful wails for help.

How long?

Kryta rushed to push the rubble off her body and hastily got up onto her feet. The sudden movement made her lightheaded and her vision hazy. She stumbled as she looked around her, head spinning as she searched for the short girl.

Where was she? Where is she? Is she still alive? Please, please, please say something, anything!

"Ka..Ka..Kry-ta?" a faint and distant voice can be heard above, right behind Kryta.

That was all she needed to locate Salem. Rapidly turning around, she pulled herself towards the pile of rubble, giving no expense to her safety, after all, she had to help her friend-

Friend?

Was she her Friend? Did she consider Salem a friend?

Kryta took her first step up the pile of broken concrete and shelves that were once full with books.

Kryta took another, another, another, another, and another, each step shooting excruciating pain from her leg to her lower abdomen. It felt like she was stepping on thousands of needles, legs wrapped in sharp thorns, stomatche pierced with daggers, throat closed shut with wires, tightening with every attempt she made to get Salem's attention, to let her know she was there, she was coming to help her, that she wasn't alone anymore.

Five,

Contorted, twisted, warped, perverse, all of these describes the young girl's view of a friend

Six,

She hasn't made any meaningful friends during her time here. To say 'friend' is a stretch if we're being honest. Kryta is someone who refuses to open up and see others as equals, no one's entitled to stay on the same level as her, never as equals at least. Despite trying so hard to change, change is something that comes with time. Change is something that happens without our consent.

Seven,

What are friends to Kryta?

Eight,

She is one who wants change, who wants the change to redeem herself, to be a better person, to make right to all those who she had wronged. To be forgiven is her true desire.

Nine,

This brings us back to what friends mean to her. Friends are people who are there to help her, make her feel something, to be wanted, to be pitied, to be forgiven for every little thing she does. To be given everything without the need to work for everything. To be rewarded for nothing. These friends will be the ones to give her what she needs to feel validated, seen, loved, and most importantly of all, pardoned.

Ten,

Marshal was her favorite, he always was, to the moment she met him to their last. Blinded by confusion, anger, frustration towards sudden change was what caused to lash out at the poor boy. It was also because of that she misinterpreted the feeling of warmth she felt all around her. The sense of familiarity in an unknown environment is a comforting feeling everyone knows of, but her, not for our loathsome protagonist.

Eleven,

The moment she knew she was mistaken was when she got down on her knees and sucked up all her pride and apologized. Feeling humiliated, disgusted, ashamed, yet pleased she's getting somewhere on the journey to better herself. And when he accepted and forgave her for everything she had done despite not deserving to be forgiven, she was overjoyed and along with the words of comfort he gave, she relished the feelings of ecstasy, and with that her walls broke ever so slightly.

Twelve,

Like I said earlier, no one is allowed to be on the same level as Kryta, and especially not as equals. Everyone she ever meets is either placed above her or below. People like Sirius and his friend Eli would both be considered below while those like Marshal would be placed above. Those below would make her feel good, to give praise, to give her the hope she can infact get better with the way she is. Those above would make her work for the feeling of bliss, the praise, and the ability to be pardoned. To beg for forgiveness, to lower herself, to be stripped of pride and honor, to work for what she had once thought to achieve.

Thirteen,

At Least that was all it was before this,

Fourteen,

She would hold no love for them yet would demand love from them,

Fifteen,

The worry was never meant to be mutual.

Sixteen,

This isn't what I wanted, this wasn't what I had planned.

Seventeen,

Perhaps change is possible for the young brunette juvenile.

Eighteen,

Perhaps change is much more prevalent than I had originally thought.

Nineteen,

Maybe, just maybe, might this Nameless Princess make a name for herself.

__________________________________________________________________________

I walked and walked, and walked a little more. Each step more painful than the last. I want to stop, I want to collapse and allow my body to rest but I mustn't, not when she was out there awake to suffer for who knows how long.

Come on Kryta!

Nearly there and with sudden adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream, body memory from a time long ago, gilded her upward, quicker than she could ever hoped. She danced and leaped, it felt as if she turned into a dove and flew into oblivion.

Kryta finally reached Salem and saw the cause of the girl's agony. One of her legs was pierced with a metal and half of it was crushed causing what Kryta now knows to be blood splattered everywhere, there was no way she would ever be able to move the large piece of debris off her leg in that condition.

She walked over towards Salem who passed out from pain and exhaustion. Kryta caressed the girl's head for a moment. She was breathing.

With a look of sorry and guilt and voice laced with grave solace, Kryta whispered, "Alone you are no longer" as she stood up to her feet, the pain now numb with adrenaline.

Kryta gripped the large piece of rubble, hands turning a pale white, and with all she lifted it off the girl and flipped it over.

"K..K...Kryta?"

Kryta blinked once, then twice, and before she knew it, she had embraced the obsidian haired girl.

She cried when it really should be Salem who should.

"Y-You're fine now, alright?" Kryta said, voice shaking and throat tightening as she struggled to say the words she wished to.

Salem didn't say anything, istead, directing the little energy she had into her right arm in an attempt to return Kryta's hug.

They were both lucky to survive and they knew it.

________________________________________________

I thought and thought hard in that exact moment to answer the question I had earlier.

Were we friends?

The answer is no. No we really aren't.

I unfortunately have no friends, never did and probably never will.

Salem and I are just acquaintances who live together just for convenience.

Why did I help her if we aren't friends, you may ask.

Easy,

It's because I wanted to, I would have helped anyone had they been in her position, strangers, friends, enemies, anyone.

It's funny isn't it? Had you asked me if I would help anyone in her position just a few months ago, I would have given you a completely different answer.

Answer me if you will, do you even need to be friends to help someone?

______________________________________________________________________

Kryta pulled the piece of metal out of Salem's leg and tied it with her button up shirt, leaving her in a cami with a long skirt. Modesty isn't something many worry about in such cases of urgency.

She carried Salem on her back down the ruined building, slow but safe.

Before she completely descended the mountain of rubble, she noticed a certain book, a certain book that seemingly remained untouched, almost as if such a disaster hadn't occurred.

"Solar King…."

"Hmmm?"

"It was nothing"

There was no time to think of such trivial things when she had to bring Salem somewhere safe.