The nights hadn’t been numerous since the old Sabertooth guild had been destroyed on that disastrous moonlit night, but they had already taken their toll on the Etherborn’s mind and body. The loss she had suffered during the fight against Prometheus had been harsh, unbearable… Mashyuu’s death had left the young woman scarred, alone, and at some point even afraid. First in rage over his death, which had switched to denial. Wishing she could find a way to ressurect him again, as had happened the last time he had died, Kenna had searched endlessly... even though she knew that this time, there was no way to reverse the fate that had befallen him. There was no body left, nor a soul. Prometheus had destroyed both with such precision that not even a shred of either remained. Once the reality started overshadowing her denial did she dare let the thought in, slowly, until it had consumed her being and left her hollow. Food no longer held taste to her, the things she loved or interested her no longer held any meaning, and her mind had shut down. With it she too had secluded herself from all the others; not wishing to return to the house she and Mashyuu had shared for too short a time, too afraid to gaze upon the happiness that was so brutally taken from her. Kenna even came to believe that the world indeed wouldn’t allow her any happiness for a longer amount of time. Whenever her life took a pleasant turn, it was soon to be disturbed, and this time in the most cruelest of ways. She just sat upon her bed within the guild, staring outside through the blurry gaze her eyes allowed her; bloodshot and red from the crying she’d done. Last night had plagued her with nightmares of that fated day, how his body returned to dust within her hands with no soul remaining to capture of the one she loved. Prometheus had left a shard of his own divine within one of his puppets in the hope to survive, and in a fit of fueled rage Kenna had grasped Akhator’s power and sealed the one she called a fake god within her soul realm. In the deepest bowels of it, and had from then on refused to use her magic even once. And once night fell Prometheus’s captured soul tormented her from within the realm of dreams, actually forcing Akhator to step in and strengthen Prometheus’s seal so his vessel would be granted some rest, be it ever short.
Her nightmares did not vanish, her sleep was often deprived, but at least his torment had stopped. For now. The young woman’s life remained an empty shell of what it once was, even today. She’d woken up covered in cold sweat, tears still flowing from her face as she tried to recollect where she was from within the darkness. Moonlight shone through her window, casting a veil of clear light to illuminate the darkness, and reflected upon the polished blade of Steel Wolf, which had been leaning against the wall near her window. After having laid eyes on the weapon Kenna had failed to fall asleep again, and instead had pulled her pillows up against each other to support her back as she sat up. Gramr, the large grey hound, had taken the liberty of comforting his master in her sleepless hours, and had curled up next to her, laying his large head unto her lap so she could absently pet him. Hours passed like that; the darkness of night made way for the dawning of a new day. The raven haired maiden had gotten up, taking her time for a cold shower and once dressed in her typical red dress had taken her seat again on the side of the bed so she could overlook the scenery through her window. Her amber-colored eyes started watering again at reminiscing the moment Mashyuu had given her the sword and swallowed a heavy lump. She shook her head and tried to keep her composure, but when feeling Gramr’s warm nose nudging her leg she crumbled and lost. From the side of her bed she slumped down unto the ground, knees pulled up high enough so she could bury her head between them and cried her heart out for the so-manieth time this week, while Gramr protectively laid his head upon his master’s, his own body close to hers in a try to soothe the shocking woman. Her voice was broken, a stuffed nose making her talk rather nasally as she exclaimed her disbelief to the large Church Grim. ”Why? What have I done to deserve any of this? Why did he have to go like this…” she cried against the hound’s rough fur, sobbing uncontrollably. Gramr remained silent and just let out a gentle whining sound while crawling closer to Kenna. ”Am I really worth so little to the world that it has to take the only bit of happiness in my life? I mean... just why?” She lifted her head only briefly to take hold of the sword and gripped it firmly as she cocked her head back against the bed and looked up at the sky through her window. ”Why did you leave me like this?! WHY DID YOU GO AND DIE YOU BASTARD!” The Etherborn shouted as she threw the sword into the wall in a fit of rage, the sound of metal clanging against a solid surface echoing throughout her room as it dropped to the floor. Gramr startled at first and backed away quickly as the incoming sword smacked against the wall, but soon enough returned with gentle steps, pushing his large head into Kenna’s make-shift safe zone between her knees and chest, forcing his big head before hers. The maiden grabbed his head and hugged it tightly, wetting his fur with her tears as she whispered against his face. ”It just hurts so much… The comfort of the large hound’s body seemed to calm her down slowly but steadily, the profound heaving of her chest had diminished greatly while her tears started drying up. Absent-mindedly she stroked the six foot long dog’s fur, leaving the sword on the floor as she stared outside, not uttering a single word more. She just waited like she’d always done. Waited for someone to ease her pain. For someone to save her. For someone to get her out of here.