Slow Burning Rage

I slide silently through the streets feeling the rage burning within me as I consider just how close I have come to capturing Sebastion and how very bitter the failure was for being so close. Twice now, the first time stealing my armor and beating me unconscious and the second time using another smoke bomb to escape. I ran up and down that street and search it carefully but nothing. I am not on duty and so what am I to do with my time? I train, I will get stronger, faster I will do everything I can to beat him next time we meet. I want to be ready.

I feel the reassuring weight on my back as I stride through the streets considering my options and what I want. When I spoke last to the captain, her words sparked something in my mind that has only grown with my recent experiences.  I realize I have not truly had a purpose beyond a foolish little girls dream. In this world how could I ever become a knight? The men who run this city will never allow such a thing, they need to feel powerful and important which means they could never let a woman have a position to kick their asses. I snort at the thought. Oh yes, we must protect our precious egos, except I do not feel I have much of one anymore. Too much has happened for me to feel like I need their approval. I admire certain people now, like the captain, but honestly I want to become a warrior in truth. I want to serve with a purpose and I am beginning to wonder if my current career will offer that. Oh I protect the city, that is true, but I protect it from drunks and thieves. I want to be a force of good, to strive for something greater than self, how can I do that catching pickpockets and brawlers? Not that I am doing any of that right now. I kick a wayward bottle into a wall where it shatters into brightly sparking shards and I look up at the sky. What use am I now?

I try and think but am filled with self pity and doubt, feeling disgusted with myself I shake the thoughts loose and go to the graveyard to kill more undead. At least they make good vessels through which to vent my rage. I draw my sword for a moment before I enter the gates and stare at the blade a moment, enjoying the feel of the weapon in my hands and marveling at the fact that I can legally wield it, that I can learn to use something that feels so right. Something inside me surges, a focus I have never before known centers my thoughts and I feel ready to take on anything. As I enter the graveyard and begins my hunt I begin to feel the joy of the fight but honed with that intense focus into something more and I leave a trail of twice dead bodies in my wake, each wearing the face of Sebastion in my mind.