Post by Siobhan Arden on Jul 8, 2015 11:54:51 GMT -5
The barrel of a gun, black, sleek, and shining in the dim light. White fingers clutch it tightly, the quivering of the arm attatched causes the gun to shake. Hesitantly, the index finger brushes the trigger, before curling back. After a moment the index finger moves back, settling around the small piece. Siobhan is taking deep breaths but her head is light, chest undergoing squeezing pains. Her body is rigid, legs locked and shoulders firm. Somehow, despite that, her arm quakes like it is not her own. Words mumble themselves from swollen lips, a man delirious from pain sags to one side before he is shoved back upright by the two holding him down on his knees. Siobhan stares down at the lumped face, wet blood still trickling from the man's nose.
"What are you waiting for Siobhan? Do it."
The deep voice with the husky accent forming guttural words presses against the edge of her mind, suppressing her terror. There shouldn't be any hesitation. The heiress to the Arden family should not be a stranger to death nor killing. It is meant to be a natural reflex. It is what she tells herself, but Siobhan's shaking of her arm turns into harsh shuddering. No. No. Pull the trigger, do it, do it, do it. The man's head lolls back, the light shining onto his face. His features make her stomach twinge with guilt and remorse. A flattened nose, swollen cheeks, lumps for eyes, all of it an angry mottled red with purple patches forming. The longer Siobhan stares, the harder it gets to convince herself to kill this man, to end his life, take away his future, rip him from those who might call him family.
A foggy eye latches onto her own wide ones, recognition of his situation taking some time for him to process. When it does, a small grunt escapes his lips, body falling sideways once more. Siobhan tries to squeeze the trigger. He is pushed back upwards on his knees once more, head falling onto his shoulder. Looking to her face again, he murmurs, "Golden". The gunshot rings as loud as the silent screaming in her head. Following the next line of the scene, Siobhan's arm falls back to her side, the gun now limp in her hand. A weightlessness in her hand surprises her, dragging her attention to her feet. There is the gun, suspended if only for a moment, holding itself there long enough for shock to morph her face. Then it drops down, Siobhan's reflexes not faster than this stretching moment. The only thing she can do is stiffen her body as it clatters to the floor.
There is another bang. The gun faces the left wall. How strange, Siobhan thinks as a dark splotch widens from the size of a quarter to a baseball. But the gun, was facing another direction, and the bullet is...
A chuckle of throaty laughter lifts her chin to the man across the room. He hides in the shadows, shoulders shaking. Siobhan doesn't need to see his face, that voice is familiar enough. Suddenly she feels claustrophobic, the air thinning and room shrinking in on her. Where are the guards? Siobhan's head turns behind her, searching for the familiar round shape of her father. Startled by the empty space, her eyes travel the length of the dark floor and upwards. The figure is black, but soon the darkness lifts slightly around him, revealing the man she just shot hanging from the ceiling. Blood drips from his limbs, into a shining pool of ink. Her breath turns into simple exhales that shudder her entire body. Siobhan didn't do that to him.
She tries to move. Her body doesn't budge. Siobhan can only turn her head in terror back to the man who has recovered from his laughing fit. Now half of his body is seen in contrast to the lighter color of the walls that trap all of the carbon dioxide both figures breath in the cramped area. One step forward, Siobhan would've tripped backing up, shaking her head fiercely. Her body doesn't move, only tightening in itself further. Smoke is filling her lungs, silent screams burning her throat the entire way down into her chest. Another step and his body is visible from the neck down. Siobhan is struggling to stay standing, but she isn't sure she could drop to the floor if she wanted to. At this moment, her mouth will not open to give her a chance to spit out the smoke trapped in her lungs. Her mind is numb from fear, unable to even bring up suggestions that could pull her from this sticky situation. So she stands there, waiting for his move.
Siobhan can only watch his hand slip into his pocket, reaching in for something. What would it be, her hopes, dreams, future? All of it could be crushed in his hand like wildflowers that were handpicked by Siobhan herself. Instead something small is in the cusp of his palm, hidden from her. His hand curls away from her, sliding the small object up. There is a snick and one flame bursts upwards. In the light of the flame, a feral grin is stretched across his face, amusement and hunger etched in the lines of his teeth. All at once, the smoke in her lungs broils, chest capsizing and eyes flying open.
Tears have dried to her cheeks, eyes further watering and blurring her vision. Siobhan slides her arms up to lift her body up, unable to see through a grey film over her eyes. Taking a moment to wipe at her stinging eyes, Siobhan inhales deeply, before tapering off into a fit of coughs. Her throat burns as if she has been screaming, lungs tired and hoarse. The coughs escaping her throat wrack her upper body, the hand pressed to her mouth growing wet from whatever she has been coughing up. Is she sick? Siobhan's eyes water fiercely, sinuses feeling dry and parched. Blinking tears from her eyes, Siobhan catches a glance of an orange light flickering underneath her door. Is her father still up?
Sliding from her sheets, her bare feet pad against the wood floor, reaching for the door handle. The handle is hot to the touch, scorching her fingers. It hurts, the stinging is from undoubtedly forming blisters. Siobhan blows on her fingers in rapid puffs before shaking her hand. Glancing around the room, she spots a jacket cast on the back of her desk chair. Walking briskly to grab it, only when her fingers curl into the material does Siobhan think that opening the door might cause an explosion from the sudden rush of oxygen into the hallway. Fear leaves her indecisive, but Siobhan will not sit in her room and wait for death to claim her. Siobhan turns sharply, taking a few steps towards the door. Will she need anything? Casting a look down to her patterned black and white fleece pajama bottoms and simple black tank top, Siobhan figures a change of clothes would be in order. She doesn't have time for that, soon the fire might eat her door away and then what?
Grabbing the hems of her pants, Siobhan yanks them up over her thighs, frantically looking about the room for her shoes she kicked off last night. The smoke is growing thicker, Siobhan's eyes burning from the lack of water. She blinks multiple times, dropping to the floor to cast an arm underneath the skirt of the bed. It is easier to breathe, and the stale oxygen hiding underneath the bed clears her muddled thoughts. Her fingers brush her felt fabric, flat-bottomed shoes. Pulling them out and stuffing her feet in them, Siobhan stands, moving to the right of her doorway. Flopping the jacket on the door handle, Siobhan grabs the top and twists. Slowly, taking her time to open the door in intervals of inches, Siobhan pulls back, allowing the oxygen to escape the room in measured amounts.
Finally she steps around the door, looking into the hallway. Flames dance around her doorway, reaching out for her wooden door. Coughing harshly at the thicker smoke, Siobhan manages to see the entire right wing of the house is coated in oranges and reds, sometimes black when the paintings on the wall clatter down in a flurry of half burned ash. Testing her first step out the door, Siobhan steps out into the hall, casting a mild frown at the burning banister and stairwell. There goes one exit. Turning and heading for the left wing of the house, Siobhan rubs fiercely at her stinging eyes. She makes it a few steps shy of turning the corner when Siobhan remembers her father's study. Siobhan had overheard the angry conversation with one of the more prominent members underneath the family's control and her father. The conversation circled around the dangerous records Siobhan's father had obtained and was keeping as blackmail material.
If the fire had managed to spread this far, it was likely the staff had been slaughtered. Others would be searching for those records, which were hidden in her father's study. Rubbing her arms as if she had gotten a chill, Siobhan headed back in the opposite direction, stopping at the burning banister to try and glance down. Black shadows danced, but there was no noise over the sound of crackling wood and burning walls. Moving away from the intense heat, Siobhan blinked again, throat scratchy and stinging. Taking long strides down the end of the hallway, trying to stay clear of both sides of the burning walls, it grew increasingly more difficult to sidestep the small patches of flames eating the carpet.
The flickering tongues of flames singed her ankles, face and hair collecting more soot and ash. Siobhan turned the corner, backing quickly from the onslaught of heat. The entire hallway was coated in a bright orange light, yellow flames eating all four sides of the hall. At first, Siobhan hesitated, but after steeling herself with the command of, "You are the heiress, it's your duty", she dug her toes into the hot carpet. Holding a hand up to cover her nose and mouth, Siobhan sprinted through the column of flames, the uncomfortable heat underneath her feet turning into a painful burn. Damp sweat turned into flying droplets as Siobhan dropped hard on her left foot and jumped into the intersecting hallway. Rushing down the hall, Siobhan's eyes were trained on one upcoming door. Coming to a sharp pause before the door, Siobhan's foot slipped on powdery ash rubbed into the carpet, her left leg collapsing under her.
A harsh burn flared on her right calf, tossing Siobhan back onto her feet. A glowing black and white ember had left an angry red imprint on the back of her leg. The pain was distracting, forcing Siobhan to rush forward, grabbing the handle firmly. The metal burned into her soft palm, eliciting a yelp from her throat, triggering her to release the handle. Pushing forward, Siobhan opened the door to the study, jiggling the handle when it wouldn't turn. Finally peeled her hand from the handle, the pain turning into an undertone. Turning her palm up to her face, Siobhan stared at the red and white skin with blisters already leaking clear oil. Down the hall, there was a crash of noise, scaring her into a jump. Siobhan needed the key, where was the key, where did her father hide it?
Siobhan nearly laughed aloud when she realized she was looking for the sole key that was made by a trusted friend of the family and her father always kept on his person. Very well then. Drawing her body back into the position her teachers taught her, bending at the waist slightly, Siobhan tucked her right elbow behind her body as she twisted slightly. One deep breath, and then a quick lunge forward, the wood splintered, her hand reaching through to the other side. Immediately the alarm blared, nearly deafening Siobhan. Using her foot, she kicked the rest of the door in, right fist throbbing from the hard punch. Stepping through, she rushed over to the desk, using her not burned hand to search through the neat papers. Her head turned back and forth, eyes scanning over multiple headlines and titles. The alarm was still going, although it was quieter in the study.
Where was it? Standing up, she yanked open every door, overturning the books on his small shelves beside the desk. Turning to the larger bookshelf propped against the wall, Siobhan ran over and pulled out the entire shelf of books on the third rack. They clattered to the floor, hiding the small whirring of the machine behind the bookshelf. To the far left, a panel slid open on the wall, revealing weapons. A quick check, and there were no papers. Flicking her head to the other side of the wall, Siobhan went over to the small keypad on the wall beside the large window above the lounge couch. Pressing in the code quickly, Siobhan bounced on her feet while the safe revealed itself from behind the wall. Her father had not given her the code to the vault, so Siobhan was left with one choice.
Praying the papers were hidden in the vault, she yanked it from the small alcove in the wall, turning and heading back for the doorway. Siobhan stopped before stepping through the shattered door, turned and went back behind her father's desk. There was an entire cabinet covering the entire wall, stocked with all of her father's favorite liquors. Propping the vault up on her hip and left arm, Siobhan opened one of the glass doors, pushing a heavy glass bottle aside to reveal another keypad. Pressing in the deactivation code, the alarm faded away, leaving only the roaring of the fire. Turning back to the door, Siobhan paused before stepping out, hearing a muffled noise. It was similar to shuffling, obviously someone trying to conceal their movements. Siobhan tilted her head, looking down the right side of the hallway first.
The flames were outlined in black, and in comparison to the left side of the hallway, someone was waiting around the corner of the hall, out of sight. Sighing, Siobhan readjusted the vault, taking care to be silent as she stepped through the door. Pausing for a brief moment, she sprinted down the left side of the hall, knowing that a balcony was just to the right off two intersecting hallways. There were footsteps behind her, someone was chasing her, knowing that Siobhan had found what they were looking for. Well, it explained why they didn't kill her in her sleep. Rounding the corner, a person stepped out from behind a large plant. Not pausing, Siobhan slipped down another hallway. The smoke was thickest here, indicating this was where the fire started.
Siobhan was forced to slow down, unable to breathe any longer. Footsteps were searching for her, and Siobhan staggered forward, blind except for the grey and gritty smoke irritating her stinging eyes. No, no, she couldn't be caught, the future of the Arden family was in this vault. Besides the papers, many official documents were inside the vault. Siobhan heard a clatter almost beside her and took two quick steps forward.
The air suddenly went up, her body turning weightless and the vault slipping from her hands. Siobhan's clenched eyes opened, viewing an endless repeating scenery of orange and yellow splotches. And finally when her body hit the broken and charred wood at the bottom of her flight down, the vault crashed right beside her head, nearly killing her. Even so, her mind was groggy, body heating up not just from the flames but from the inside as well. Sliding her right arm forwards with the little strength that was slipping away, Siobhan's fingers reached out for the vault. One finger pressed against the cool metal before her mind shuttered into the darkness.
~~*~~
There was no white gauze lining her arms, just medical tape plastered on top of hard wrapping to support her sprained wrist. No burns, just bruises and a hoarse cough to hurt her chest. Siobhan blinked and examined her hand again. It was fascinated, the smooth skin no longer blistered. The fire was just last night, and Siobhan had examined her right calf. The blistered imprint from the ember was gone, just the soft plane of cream skin. At first, she was baffled, but now, Siobhan realized that whatever ability she had come across was quite handy. Without it, she would have died. Speaking of which, Siobhan looked up at the clear liquid in an IV bag. That wasn't your normal saline. Siobhan had been given altered medications since her childhood, all directed towards improving her weak body when she was younger. Now, she could withstand a fall from the second story onto burning wood.
Siobhan was aware that it was probably unnatural to be able to survive such feats. If anything, there had to be a mistake, or exaggeration somewhere. But here she was, sitting upright in a hospital bed, the oxygen mask discarded to her left and completely unblemished hand. The smoke's effects would last for a while and dehydration problems were being addressed. As far as Siobhan knew, there were no side effects to this newfound ability. Dropping her hand into her lap for a moment, Siobhan reached up and squeezed her IV bag.
A heavy weight sat upon Siobhan's body, dragging her down into drowsiness. Siobhan flexed her left hand again, dropped it, and then settled back on her pillows. A wash of dizziness covered her, body feeling as if it was rolling while free-falling.
Only when Siobhan was slipping into a deep sleep did she wonder if, in fact, by her falling through the floor meant that the vault and all other papers were safe. Siobhan didn't get an answer.
"What are you waiting for Siobhan? Do it."
The deep voice with the husky accent forming guttural words presses against the edge of her mind, suppressing her terror. There shouldn't be any hesitation. The heiress to the Arden family should not be a stranger to death nor killing. It is meant to be a natural reflex. It is what she tells herself, but Siobhan's shaking of her arm turns into harsh shuddering. No. No. Pull the trigger, do it, do it, do it. The man's head lolls back, the light shining onto his face. His features make her stomach twinge with guilt and remorse. A flattened nose, swollen cheeks, lumps for eyes, all of it an angry mottled red with purple patches forming. The longer Siobhan stares, the harder it gets to convince herself to kill this man, to end his life, take away his future, rip him from those who might call him family.
A foggy eye latches onto her own wide ones, recognition of his situation taking some time for him to process. When it does, a small grunt escapes his lips, body falling sideways once more. Siobhan tries to squeeze the trigger. He is pushed back upwards on his knees once more, head falling onto his shoulder. Looking to her face again, he murmurs, "Golden". The gunshot rings as loud as the silent screaming in her head. Following the next line of the scene, Siobhan's arm falls back to her side, the gun now limp in her hand. A weightlessness in her hand surprises her, dragging her attention to her feet. There is the gun, suspended if only for a moment, holding itself there long enough for shock to morph her face. Then it drops down, Siobhan's reflexes not faster than this stretching moment. The only thing she can do is stiffen her body as it clatters to the floor.
There is another bang. The gun faces the left wall. How strange, Siobhan thinks as a dark splotch widens from the size of a quarter to a baseball. But the gun, was facing another direction, and the bullet is...
A chuckle of throaty laughter lifts her chin to the man across the room. He hides in the shadows, shoulders shaking. Siobhan doesn't need to see his face, that voice is familiar enough. Suddenly she feels claustrophobic, the air thinning and room shrinking in on her. Where are the guards? Siobhan's head turns behind her, searching for the familiar round shape of her father. Startled by the empty space, her eyes travel the length of the dark floor and upwards. The figure is black, but soon the darkness lifts slightly around him, revealing the man she just shot hanging from the ceiling. Blood drips from his limbs, into a shining pool of ink. Her breath turns into simple exhales that shudder her entire body. Siobhan didn't do that to him.
She tries to move. Her body doesn't budge. Siobhan can only turn her head in terror back to the man who has recovered from his laughing fit. Now half of his body is seen in contrast to the lighter color of the walls that trap all of the carbon dioxide both figures breath in the cramped area. One step forward, Siobhan would've tripped backing up, shaking her head fiercely. Her body doesn't move, only tightening in itself further. Smoke is filling her lungs, silent screams burning her throat the entire way down into her chest. Another step and his body is visible from the neck down. Siobhan is struggling to stay standing, but she isn't sure she could drop to the floor if she wanted to. At this moment, her mouth will not open to give her a chance to spit out the smoke trapped in her lungs. Her mind is numb from fear, unable to even bring up suggestions that could pull her from this sticky situation. So she stands there, waiting for his move.
Siobhan can only watch his hand slip into his pocket, reaching in for something. What would it be, her hopes, dreams, future? All of it could be crushed in his hand like wildflowers that were handpicked by Siobhan herself. Instead something small is in the cusp of his palm, hidden from her. His hand curls away from her, sliding the small object up. There is a snick and one flame bursts upwards. In the light of the flame, a feral grin is stretched across his face, amusement and hunger etched in the lines of his teeth. All at once, the smoke in her lungs broils, chest capsizing and eyes flying open.
Tears have dried to her cheeks, eyes further watering and blurring her vision. Siobhan slides her arms up to lift her body up, unable to see through a grey film over her eyes. Taking a moment to wipe at her stinging eyes, Siobhan inhales deeply, before tapering off into a fit of coughs. Her throat burns as if she has been screaming, lungs tired and hoarse. The coughs escaping her throat wrack her upper body, the hand pressed to her mouth growing wet from whatever she has been coughing up. Is she sick? Siobhan's eyes water fiercely, sinuses feeling dry and parched. Blinking tears from her eyes, Siobhan catches a glance of an orange light flickering underneath her door. Is her father still up?
Sliding from her sheets, her bare feet pad against the wood floor, reaching for the door handle. The handle is hot to the touch, scorching her fingers. It hurts, the stinging is from undoubtedly forming blisters. Siobhan blows on her fingers in rapid puffs before shaking her hand. Glancing around the room, she spots a jacket cast on the back of her desk chair. Walking briskly to grab it, only when her fingers curl into the material does Siobhan think that opening the door might cause an explosion from the sudden rush of oxygen into the hallway. Fear leaves her indecisive, but Siobhan will not sit in her room and wait for death to claim her. Siobhan turns sharply, taking a few steps towards the door. Will she need anything? Casting a look down to her patterned black and white fleece pajama bottoms and simple black tank top, Siobhan figures a change of clothes would be in order. She doesn't have time for that, soon the fire might eat her door away and then what?
Grabbing the hems of her pants, Siobhan yanks them up over her thighs, frantically looking about the room for her shoes she kicked off last night. The smoke is growing thicker, Siobhan's eyes burning from the lack of water. She blinks multiple times, dropping to the floor to cast an arm underneath the skirt of the bed. It is easier to breathe, and the stale oxygen hiding underneath the bed clears her muddled thoughts. Her fingers brush her felt fabric, flat-bottomed shoes. Pulling them out and stuffing her feet in them, Siobhan stands, moving to the right of her doorway. Flopping the jacket on the door handle, Siobhan grabs the top and twists. Slowly, taking her time to open the door in intervals of inches, Siobhan pulls back, allowing the oxygen to escape the room in measured amounts.
Finally she steps around the door, looking into the hallway. Flames dance around her doorway, reaching out for her wooden door. Coughing harshly at the thicker smoke, Siobhan manages to see the entire right wing of the house is coated in oranges and reds, sometimes black when the paintings on the wall clatter down in a flurry of half burned ash. Testing her first step out the door, Siobhan steps out into the hall, casting a mild frown at the burning banister and stairwell. There goes one exit. Turning and heading for the left wing of the house, Siobhan rubs fiercely at her stinging eyes. She makes it a few steps shy of turning the corner when Siobhan remembers her father's study. Siobhan had overheard the angry conversation with one of the more prominent members underneath the family's control and her father. The conversation circled around the dangerous records Siobhan's father had obtained and was keeping as blackmail material.
If the fire had managed to spread this far, it was likely the staff had been slaughtered. Others would be searching for those records, which were hidden in her father's study. Rubbing her arms as if she had gotten a chill, Siobhan headed back in the opposite direction, stopping at the burning banister to try and glance down. Black shadows danced, but there was no noise over the sound of crackling wood and burning walls. Moving away from the intense heat, Siobhan blinked again, throat scratchy and stinging. Taking long strides down the end of the hallway, trying to stay clear of both sides of the burning walls, it grew increasingly more difficult to sidestep the small patches of flames eating the carpet.
The flickering tongues of flames singed her ankles, face and hair collecting more soot and ash. Siobhan turned the corner, backing quickly from the onslaught of heat. The entire hallway was coated in a bright orange light, yellow flames eating all four sides of the hall. At first, Siobhan hesitated, but after steeling herself with the command of, "You are the heiress, it's your duty", she dug her toes into the hot carpet. Holding a hand up to cover her nose and mouth, Siobhan sprinted through the column of flames, the uncomfortable heat underneath her feet turning into a painful burn. Damp sweat turned into flying droplets as Siobhan dropped hard on her left foot and jumped into the intersecting hallway. Rushing down the hall, Siobhan's eyes were trained on one upcoming door. Coming to a sharp pause before the door, Siobhan's foot slipped on powdery ash rubbed into the carpet, her left leg collapsing under her.
A harsh burn flared on her right calf, tossing Siobhan back onto her feet. A glowing black and white ember had left an angry red imprint on the back of her leg. The pain was distracting, forcing Siobhan to rush forward, grabbing the handle firmly. The metal burned into her soft palm, eliciting a yelp from her throat, triggering her to release the handle. Pushing forward, Siobhan opened the door to the study, jiggling the handle when it wouldn't turn. Finally peeled her hand from the handle, the pain turning into an undertone. Turning her palm up to her face, Siobhan stared at the red and white skin with blisters already leaking clear oil. Down the hall, there was a crash of noise, scaring her into a jump. Siobhan needed the key, where was the key, where did her father hide it?
Siobhan nearly laughed aloud when she realized she was looking for the sole key that was made by a trusted friend of the family and her father always kept on his person. Very well then. Drawing her body back into the position her teachers taught her, bending at the waist slightly, Siobhan tucked her right elbow behind her body as she twisted slightly. One deep breath, and then a quick lunge forward, the wood splintered, her hand reaching through to the other side. Immediately the alarm blared, nearly deafening Siobhan. Using her foot, she kicked the rest of the door in, right fist throbbing from the hard punch. Stepping through, she rushed over to the desk, using her not burned hand to search through the neat papers. Her head turned back and forth, eyes scanning over multiple headlines and titles. The alarm was still going, although it was quieter in the study.
Where was it? Standing up, she yanked open every door, overturning the books on his small shelves beside the desk. Turning to the larger bookshelf propped against the wall, Siobhan ran over and pulled out the entire shelf of books on the third rack. They clattered to the floor, hiding the small whirring of the machine behind the bookshelf. To the far left, a panel slid open on the wall, revealing weapons. A quick check, and there were no papers. Flicking her head to the other side of the wall, Siobhan went over to the small keypad on the wall beside the large window above the lounge couch. Pressing in the code quickly, Siobhan bounced on her feet while the safe revealed itself from behind the wall. Her father had not given her the code to the vault, so Siobhan was left with one choice.
Praying the papers were hidden in the vault, she yanked it from the small alcove in the wall, turning and heading back for the doorway. Siobhan stopped before stepping through the shattered door, turned and went back behind her father's desk. There was an entire cabinet covering the entire wall, stocked with all of her father's favorite liquors. Propping the vault up on her hip and left arm, Siobhan opened one of the glass doors, pushing a heavy glass bottle aside to reveal another keypad. Pressing in the deactivation code, the alarm faded away, leaving only the roaring of the fire. Turning back to the door, Siobhan paused before stepping out, hearing a muffled noise. It was similar to shuffling, obviously someone trying to conceal their movements. Siobhan tilted her head, looking down the right side of the hallway first.
The flames were outlined in black, and in comparison to the left side of the hallway, someone was waiting around the corner of the hall, out of sight. Sighing, Siobhan readjusted the vault, taking care to be silent as she stepped through the door. Pausing for a brief moment, she sprinted down the left side of the hall, knowing that a balcony was just to the right off two intersecting hallways. There were footsteps behind her, someone was chasing her, knowing that Siobhan had found what they were looking for. Well, it explained why they didn't kill her in her sleep. Rounding the corner, a person stepped out from behind a large plant. Not pausing, Siobhan slipped down another hallway. The smoke was thickest here, indicating this was where the fire started.
Siobhan was forced to slow down, unable to breathe any longer. Footsteps were searching for her, and Siobhan staggered forward, blind except for the grey and gritty smoke irritating her stinging eyes. No, no, she couldn't be caught, the future of the Arden family was in this vault. Besides the papers, many official documents were inside the vault. Siobhan heard a clatter almost beside her and took two quick steps forward.
The air suddenly went up, her body turning weightless and the vault slipping from her hands. Siobhan's clenched eyes opened, viewing an endless repeating scenery of orange and yellow splotches. And finally when her body hit the broken and charred wood at the bottom of her flight down, the vault crashed right beside her head, nearly killing her. Even so, her mind was groggy, body heating up not just from the flames but from the inside as well. Sliding her right arm forwards with the little strength that was slipping away, Siobhan's fingers reached out for the vault. One finger pressed against the cool metal before her mind shuttered into the darkness.
~~*~~
There was no white gauze lining her arms, just medical tape plastered on top of hard wrapping to support her sprained wrist. No burns, just bruises and a hoarse cough to hurt her chest. Siobhan blinked and examined her hand again. It was fascinated, the smooth skin no longer blistered. The fire was just last night, and Siobhan had examined her right calf. The blistered imprint from the ember was gone, just the soft plane of cream skin. At first, she was baffled, but now, Siobhan realized that whatever ability she had come across was quite handy. Without it, she would have died. Speaking of which, Siobhan looked up at the clear liquid in an IV bag. That wasn't your normal saline. Siobhan had been given altered medications since her childhood, all directed towards improving her weak body when she was younger. Now, she could withstand a fall from the second story onto burning wood.
Siobhan was aware that it was probably unnatural to be able to survive such feats. If anything, there had to be a mistake, or exaggeration somewhere. But here she was, sitting upright in a hospital bed, the oxygen mask discarded to her left and completely unblemished hand. The smoke's effects would last for a while and dehydration problems were being addressed. As far as Siobhan knew, there were no side effects to this newfound ability. Dropping her hand into her lap for a moment, Siobhan reached up and squeezed her IV bag.
A heavy weight sat upon Siobhan's body, dragging her down into drowsiness. Siobhan flexed her left hand again, dropped it, and then settled back on her pillows. A wash of dizziness covered her, body feeling as if it was rolling while free-falling.
Only when Siobhan was slipping into a deep sleep did she wonder if, in fact, by her falling through the floor meant that the vault and all other papers were safe. Siobhan didn't get an answer.
