You raise the blade, you make the change/You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane. Who: War(on_a_red_horse) What: Finding her horse Where: Nevada When: Tuesday night Warnings: Implied animal abuse
War scratched at one of the commandments burned into her forearm. The scabs cracked and the words bleed anew.
Thou shall not kill.
She could have healed the wounds, wiped the slate clean so that she once again wore the pristine veneer that the world had become accustomed to. War was tired of being beautiful, was tired of the façade she had been forced to wear. So she would keep the words, the lies inscribed on her skin by a god that was as cruel as he was talented.
When the blisters wept and the wounds split the Horseman felt it was a purge of everything that had held her back.
Crazy, they called her. Dangerous is what they should have said.
Where the world was black and white War had been gray. One of four who took without remorse, acted without vengeance and showed no favor.
Until now.
It didn’t take long for War to find the cavern. Malachi did not stir, offered no noise in fear or greeting as he caught sight of his rider.
War smiled.
Hours later after the screaming stopped and the sun started to raise War emerged once more. She greeted the day bathed in the blood of her old self. Her own baptism, one of pain and murder.