I'm horrible at being consistent in regards to updates…Oh dear ;-;

Soundtrack: Frozen - Delain [Lucidity]

She had done it yet again: enraged her guardian. It was a common occurrence nowadays for the older woman to be violently angry with her for the smallest of things than even attempt to be remotely pleasant. It was all her fault, somehow…it had to be. No one could be that aggressive towards another human being without a catalyst, right?


Pyrrha's whisper thinly veiled the sob that sought release from the whirling mass of negative emotions entrapped within her petite body. She quickly clapped a hand to over her mouth, fearing that her fellow inhabitant would hear her, only to regret the action immediately as the pain that had dulled to an aching throb sparked like electricity within her jaw. She had punched her. Tira, whose fighting style presented itself like an elegant ballet being performed upon a stage to the highest paying of audiences, straight out left-hooked her in the jaw. The recalling of the incident not only quarter of an hour previously made the Greek girl want to whimper like a newborn puppy left abandoned in an alleyway; anything, anyone, help me, I'm hurting and it's just so cold…

However, the only being who could offer even a teasing glimpse of warmth and companionship to the shivering creature was the very one who had caused the damage. Pyrrha could only be thankful that Tira had not been wearing her armoured gauntlets (Pyrrha cursed those things! She knew her guardian could not afford to lose digits when performing her dance of acrobatics and steel, but still!) at the time and had restrained the force of her blow, having seemingly decided not to break her lower mandible completely. Perhaps letting the bone shatter would be the next punishment Tira would inflict upon her for returning the curt nods of the cursed guards that littered the grounds of Ostrheinsburg; heaven forbid she actually made polite conversation with those malfested grunts in order to calm the ache for social interaction - Tira would probably begin rupturing the healing orifice at regular intervals in order to disfigure her jaw entirely. No malfested creature, let alone male, would look at her again with a twinkle in their eyes or a kind word; the former would fear the wrath of Soul Edge's mistress, 'if she did that to someone she likes, imagine what she'd do to us?', and the latter would look upon her with pitying disdain for the deformed: 'such a shame, she would have been a looker without well, that.' The sheer pathetic nature of the presumed 'positive' outcome of Tira and Pyrrha's latest encounter did not escape the mind of the girl barely out of her teenage years, and only then did the tears fall silently. Melancholy struck the blonde with such force it was as if she had been physically assaulted yet again.

It all just made no sense; seemingly not to Tira, especially not to Pyrrha herself…

In the depths of her heart, Pyrrha could not help but foolishly convince herself that her guardian had some good intentions remaining within. All people had a quantity of purity within their soul, Pyrrha was convinced; and yet the Greek female had not grasped why the word naive and her being seemed to go hand in hand whenever Tira berated her. However, the woman had taken in a sickly, weak, snivelling (in Tira's own words) child with no apparent benefits to herself; such was the mantra that the blonde recited to herself in times of distress to silence the whispers in the back of her mind that would tell her to run away and save herself before it was too late.

It would be several years yet before she regretted not heeding to the not-so-subtle demands of her survival instinct; a natural part of the human psyche that Tira had somehow managed to override with gentle caresses and kind words that were applied sparingly in order to achieve the desired effect from the key component to her plans.

It was, essentially, the foundation to their rocky relationship: her Mother-figure was capable of human contact but only when she initiated it; thus Pyrrha began to take note of which actions would result in a laugh that resonated kindness and warmth, or something akin to it, and especially those which resulted in the snowy haired being showering her with Motherly kisses and Tira holding her, be it only for a brief moment. Pyrrha would use every opportunity she had to recreate the situations that garnered her affection from her would-be guardian. However, she too was not blind to how the conditions of her childhood changed from receiving a rough shake upon the top of her head that messed up her hair and a joyous giggle at the child's expense at being able to hold a short sword and shield properly, to only a clawed hand on her shoulder and a smirk resonating pride at the grisly destruction of an unfortunate traveller's life.

It had all just become to hard to make the woman appear to have a semblance of happiness in her life. It was a thought that, unintentionally, struck Pyrrha yet again where it hurt most and she almost wished her Mama Bird would just out-right punch her again for all it would matter. She wasn't enough to make Tira a happy and content human being…she would leave her for someone who could. Pyrrha could not allow that to happen! Only Tira seemed to have the ability not to be harmed around her, and Pyrrha longed to keep that connection, despite how destructive to her being it actually was.

Pyrrha sighed, somewhat relieved that the pain in her jaw was beginning to subside even if just a little; she would have to push her luck and ask Tira to have a look at it later to definitely make sure it would heal without a mark or any future problems. The blonde could only hope her guardian's happier side was in charge when she approached, for one, it was usually the chirpier persona that was the giver of attention and affection; the other being that inhabited Tira's body and mind she did not want the attention of, and its idea of affection would most likely end up with stitches being administered.

It always shocked Pyrrha, which was strange because she should be over it by now, that such an ugly being could exist within the eerily beautiful woman as her guardian was. Years ago, when she was just a child, Pyrrha was able to recall that Tira's beauty was of a more natural sort, with her presumed original hair colour being that which resembled the wings of the creatures she adored, easily, more than the child in her care; she also had a hint of colour to her skin tone, not much in that she was still fairer skinned than most women that inhabited the perimeter of Ostrheinsburg, but at least she did not resemble a dishevelled spectre haunting the hallways of the main castle. Pyrrha tried, in vain, to forget the time she had mistaken the woman for a ghost lurking within the shadowy recesses of the building, with her long white hair mussed up from little sleep, and a dress shirt that matched her hair in colour which appeared to have been tailored for man that would have dwarfed her guardian in height and stature; long story short, Pyrrha had screamed in horror at the idea of encountering a spirit and Tira had slapped her as a reply, and then scolded the child for possibly waking her beloved watchers.

When interactions such as the one recalled were dissected, Pyrrha was pretty sure that military training had nothing on living with Tira. Considering the ex-soldiers turned malfested that patrolled the grounds feared the petite woman possibly more than Pyrrha did, the blonde was sure her theory had a good foundation.

All in all, it was safe to say, in her mind at least, that as the darker side began to dominate her guardian's thoughts and actions more frequently, then the more witchlike the older female's appearance became. Pyrrha absentmindedly had begun twirling a lock of hair that strayed near her face around her finger, a sort of calming action for her nerves. For as much as her guardian's appearance changed, the woman was determined that Pyrrha's would not. For one, she was not permitted to wear make-up, or even allowed to experiment with the abundance of it that the malfested woman possessed for her own use, for the latter appeared to love the brightly coloured cosmetics and the designs she wove with them to create her intimidating appearing foliage. Pyrrha had pouted at this fact, possessing the normal teenage girl want to play with make-up and her hair. Ah, her hair. She was not allowed to dye that either; considering the bizarre colours she had seen her guardian paint her own locks, Pyrrha found this rule very hypocritical. It was as if the older female was trying to preserve something about her, for Tira was hell-bent on Pyrrha having her appearance as natural and pure as possible.

Tira will probably never tell her why such was the case. Sometimes the woman just seemed to stare at her as if she had seen a ghost, which was amusing given the colouring of Tira, before the pigtailed female would shake her head and walk away muttering to herself in incoherent sentences and snippets of words that only she herself could decipher.

Lost in the whirlpool of thoughts and memories that had struck, Pyrrha missed the slight creak as the heavy door swung open as much as it would take for a small person to get through, and if the teenage girl heard it, she gave no sign that she had.

A sudden urge to flinch struck and her body followed suit in this want. The blonde's eyes widened in shock at the sudden cold, but relief flooded her when she realised whose arm was by her side, and whose hand was clutching the wet cloth to her wounded jaw. She felt the bed dip with the new weight first, then the woman's body position itself behind her in a loose embrace with the free limb as the other continued to hold the source of cold to her sore face.

"Tira, I-"

She was cut off with a soft peck to her lower jaw before the cloth was replaced, and despite the pain that the gesture created, Pyrrha could not help but let herself sink into the embrace of her guardian. It was these moments that she would crave from Tira, and she knew that she would bear the pain that the woman was capable of dealing out to her body and mind if only to be sated with her affections a moment later. Their relationship was not conventional in the slightest, granted, but to Pyrrha, it was the closest thing to normality; and the guardian who was always in two minds about all things was the nearest semblance to family that she could remember.

So when the woman's hands, still thankfully clawless, started wandering, Pyrrha was in no position to argue or resist these gestures of apparent affection. Despite being confused at first, Pyrrha knew that Tira was currently not in the right mind to cause her harm, and she relinquished her worries of the unknown and basked in the attention of her protector. Such interactions would be added to the stock of memorised actions and responses within the blonde's mind for later use, and despite her initial fear, Pyrrha would come to relish the products of her pain once her guardian had cooled down.

It was for moments such as these that Pyrrha strove, for only one would remain at her side no matter how many died in her presence or the quantity of lives she ruined, and she yearned for the fruits of her misfortune that the pale woman was only too eager to tend to upon their return to the cursed ruins that only a few had the right to call home.