This is a character I made on Reikin. It's just a drabble, I'm not going to continue it for fear of it becoming a mary-sue fic.
The smell of explosion still lingered thick in the air, the smell of war. Everywhere there was rubble, possessions, walls broken melted glass all meshed together. Even through the rubble there was a small dusty path that had been cleared for the soldiers. You could barely tell it was a country anymore. That people lived lives here that children grew here.
In the area that was once a neighborhood. Sticking out from a piece of burnt wood were two tan, damaged legs. The ground around them was covered in both fresh and dry blood. The wood rocked, then was harshly pushed over from where it was.
There sat a small woman gasping for air. No thoughts in her head, just pure pain. Only her lone body still trying to keep itself alive. There was little for her to think about, actually. But the purpose of a brain is to gather knowledge, to strive and grow from environments and patterns. That striving of the brain was something that could not be helped, that no alchemy could put a seize to. She sat emotionlessly in the pile of rubble. Her red eyes were blank, no confusion, nothing. There was emptiness inside her, an emptiness she did not know how to define. Her eyes slowly glazed over her surroundings. Pretty repetitive, a piece of wood there… a fire here…. Melted sand, they didn’t look like houses, just piles, almost like scenery.
Her now, alive mind managed to send this signal to her body,
Certain things are programmed into a human being, things that require no thought from birth. Moving, eating, talking, sometimes even a name. Relief rushed through her emptiness, as it was now, at least temporarily relieved with the knowledge of what she was called.
“Violet” she repeated aloud what her mind had told her.
She was now on her knees, how much time had passed she did not know. The essence and definition of time she also did not know. She felt light wet drips down the back of her neck; the sensation was so light, so strange. She put a hand to the back of her head; something told her this was the way to make it stop. The wetness dripped through her hand, coming in between her fingers and slowly dripping down her tan arm. With a gasp she took her hand away. Staring intently at the red, watery substance that now stained it.
“This.” She whispered, “This…. is…. blood.”
Call it instinct but somehow she knew the word, the word and the definition. Again, the rush was incredible. Such a warm feeling, a feeling of knowing. She looked down at her bruised legs. Her left one then her ri-… Her eyes widened. Beautiful ink danced across her right leg, patterns, words she did not understand. Another rush was her reward for discovery. It began glowing, a brilliant red. More rushes, more knowledge… so beautiful… so damn beautiful.
This was what gave her the confidence she needed to stand. Her knees rising, her head now high above the rubble, she was up. She stood there, a sad yet craving smile on her face, like a child expecting something good. She threw her arms out at her sides with joy. Allowing her leg to glow… allowing the back of her head to bleed. But there was no rush. She looked sadly to the ground… was it possible to regain the warmth? Was it possible to have it forever be hers? That rush of purpose and belonging. Something in her mind, in her leg, in her heart told her what she had to do. She slowly walked away from her little pile. A light smile creeping across her face. For she knew she had a purpose, a meaning. She must reclaim it… have it forever be hers and then… only then. Would she know for certain where she belonged.