Scream (3)

"Wake up!" the scarred man felt a series of hard kicks on his side, each Strick feeling like a hammer hitting him. "Wake up, you useless piece of crap!!!" A sharp and irritating voice echoed through his ears, he let out a sharp groan from the pain he was suffering from in his sleep.

"AAAGGHHH!" the scarred man woke up from the pain, feeling agony radiating from his ribs, probably one of the most hardest kicks he had gotten in his lifetime. He was utterly confused about where he was and what he was doing there, his mind rushing with strange assumptions.

Soon, all of the memories flooded back into his brain, the chaotic scenes running through his mind, making everything even more confusing than they originally were. The recent events were a blur of conflict and desperation.

He looked at the woman who kept kicking him in order to wake him up, her expression as flustered as ever. The woman had medium, jet-black hair that was tied up into two ponytails that fell down to each side of her shoulder, her eyes, the definition of the term 'darkness,' held a depth of shadow that seemed to absorb all light that was shone onto them. Her skin tone was the colour of almonds, reflecting the light of the sun; the beautiful orange light of the down caressed her almond skin, and light shone over her void-like eyes, making them seem even more darker. The play of light and shadow, highlighted her features, intensifying the depth of her gaze.

She seemed to have been chewing on some birch tar, her jaw opening and closing rhythmically, like a cow chewing on grass, even in a situation such as this... it was indeed commendable.

She wore a pink coloured tunic that seemed to have no sleeves and had been chipped to just below her seemingly flat chest, exposing her skinny stomach... whoever was responsible for that, was definitely not good with his work... the ragged edges and the uneven hem screamed of a hasty alteration, a bad attempt at adjusting the garment. And on top of the pink tunic, she wore a loose, oversized piece of clothing that looked similar to the modern coats... making her look like she stole those clothes from some nobleman and tillered them for her small size... except for the coat... The sheer size of the coat overwhelmed her small figure to the point that her small hands could not even exist on the other side of the sleeves.

She also wore a black and short braie that covered merely just a few inches of her thin thighs... indeed, it was surely not woman-like of her to wear such... bold clothing? The exposed skin, and the unconventional attire, a hint at her disregard for the societal norms.

The scarred man then looked at the forest... as though looking at something strange. Shaking his head, as though shaking off all of his confusion out of his brain, "Marin?... Melissa! Where is she!?" He asked, his voice dark and hurried.

"how am I supposed to know, you flipping dumbass!? Just look at that!" she shouted back with the same fury as the scarred man as though she was flustered by something and pointed her hand toward the.. forest? Or was it even a forest in front of their eyes?

The scarred man tried to ignore the view in front of him before... but now he just couldn't ignore it anymore. Once the primordial and monstrous trees that stood tall in the forest filled with fog were now brought down to earth by melissas rageful flames, the fog that covered everything, being no more... exposing what lay beyond it. The devastation, a brutal display of power, stretched out till the ends of his vision, a landscape transformed by fame and fury.