evilhisus
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Hell could be peaceful for some but cruel for others. It would burn some, leaving their skin charred and melted. Majority, it would devour, tearing skin and drinking their blood like wine.
But for a select few, it would leave them expressionless and alone under a starry blue sky with sand beneath their feet.
Ymir had been involved with Hell in more ways than one, however, love covered the violence with a gentle embrace.
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Historia spent almost every day for the past eighteen years under the grace of God, from the prayers that were given to her whilst she was developing in the womb, the baptism she received barely a week after she was born, to the strict consistency of attending church every chance she could. Historia has always been under the seemingly loving stare of God.
Only for that sanctity to be challenged by a goddess, she was tall, tanned, freckled, and beautiful. The ultimate match for Historia's 'perfect' life.
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Ymir thought back to that day often. She often wondered what would've happened if Marcel never fell victim to such an unfortunate end so young. She wondered if she would die young, before she even got a chance to have a proper look at life and experience it to the fullest.
She thought back on that time where she escaped the cult after coming to terms with the fact that she wasn’t more than a tool for them, someone who wasn’t see as human, just pretend goddess that was forced upon her. Somebody who was used and not truly wanted.
She wondered if that was just her inevitable fate, to be unwanted, used for others selfish gain.
If it was Marcel's fate to die so young.