Rock, Paper, Knife. (Or Death, You Choose)

Morteth

A spirato was a spirit who lived inside of you, who shared every decision, every memory, every thought. Only you could hear your spirato, and only your spirato could hear you. This... Made it hard to socialize.

I sighed, blinking my golden eyes to get rid of the harsh sunlight that blazed like a fire. A shudder ran through my body as a blast of cold air hit me from my right side. I looked over my shoulder to see a ice ebrãzen practicing his wordspeak on a nearby lavafall. I shrugged, and continued through the city, avoiding the vendors and their salesmen, pushing past the overhanging trees and grounded shrubs.

My spirato, Amaran, was hissing quietly. "Principessa!" He said. I could see him pacing back in forth if I closed my eyes. 'What?' I thought, folding my arms. "You should get back to Mazerath. You never know when they might need you." The spirit responded, huffing. I pursed my lips, and turned around, ignoring the jewels and clothing other pressed to me as gifts. I broke into a run, my skirt billowing behind me like it had a mind of its own.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I arrived at the palace to sounds of cries and screams, the scent of blood lifting high into the air. "Mamita!" I cried, darting under the grand archway and into the main hall. Crimson liquid was splattered on the halls, and bodies littered the cool iron floor, eyes and mouths frozen in both battle cries and fear.

I let out a stranged choke. This has been happening for moons on end... And they.. The Scragitos! They attacked on Choosing Day! Woe surrounded me, and I collapsed into sobs, lying on the ground. "Mamita.. Papito..."