Waste.
Scribe

Bea or Kadin?

She is rather pretty, with dark woodland hair that cascades haphazardly down her back and eyes that are such a dark green that they are almost brown. There is fierceness in her dark eyes and the way she holds herself she dresses delicately with a hint of tom boy. She has a sweet caring personality but will stand up for herself and is not shy. She says exactly what she thinks despite her low status it gets her in trouble but she’s feisty enough to get herself out of

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You've missed so much, and there's still so much for you to miss.
You should have been here when I left primary school, you should have been here when I had that crisis three years ago to tell me what to do. You should have been here when I turned 16, you should have seen me when I won that thing that time. You should have held me when that boy broke my heart, you should have seen my smile when I found out what love really is. I should be able to have long conversations about him with you,

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Lack of ideas.
Killing me slowly.

London. At least that was what it had been called. Cathy Ellen knew that. However the broken streets were nameless to her. Strewn with rubble they were lined with dark husks of buildings. Carriages lay on their sides, bones scattered around them. She did not cringe when she stepped on a human thigh bone, snapping it in half. The weight of a trench gun in her hands and luger pistols on her hips offered her only comfort. Even though there was always the chance that such old weapons would malfunction.

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Your death clock’s counting,
Five. Four. Three.
Simple minds fill mine with glee.

Down the alley and through the day,
Here comes sacrifice,
With a baby named prey.

Take my hand I’ll guide you well,
Through the light that blinds,
To the pits of hell.

Remember my name,
And take great heed,
As I remind you of your once great deed.

As ominous as a black feathered swan.
Your death

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