This Protector, a Tiny Star in a Sea of Giants.

[Eight-Bit]

"No, no. That is not possible" She ends a thought, musing internally while struggling in despondency to follow Acacea's latest random act of gossip. Today was a slow day; really slow. The kind of slow where each thought seemed to be racing iceburgs to crawl into the heart of thesun. "What if my foot was inverted three inches towards my left, and I shifted my sholder weight to the left one and a quarter. I would of then have not taken the first blow."
[INDENT][INDENT][INDENT][INDENT] And there she was, standing among her frozen image before a Bugbear with her shield raised in panic too low before his axe.Her visage lingered in her mind for a moment, before washing over the scenery, and Acacea looking up at her. There she stood, her hair blowing in the breeze unlike how it never seems to do anymore. The wind just doesn't seem up to it. Pacing around herself, she watched the move, focusing with an intent of an absorbed scholar. A light and delicate music began to fill the air, as brought witha trail of perfume carried by cottonballs aflote in the breeze. Her own voice, singingabsent of her efforts, chimed inlike the light reflects from morning dew, as the sun rises.She gently played with a few, poking them out of their path, to which they slowly returned. It wasas if they were utterly driven to travel to where ever it is that they intended to go.They followed seconds after the music. Are these cottonballs acting in response to the thought, or because they brought the music in the retrospect, before their arrival? She mused in an absent manner. The entire scene fell into darkness, as a light shone from above onto her, nearly illuminating her skin in the depths of theshadows. Of course it is the cotton which brought the music, she thought. A blue symbol formed above her, floating in a complicated matter around nothing, yet it was obvious something must be there for it to move in such a fluid manner. She did not seem to mind. In that instant another visage of her suddenly appeared. She was entirely without eyes, yet she was not hideous nor frightning. She simply appeared as she would, with eyes as any other visage of herself, it was not an issue to her. It is the music, she thought, for it was hearing the music which brought the image of the cottonballs. Hermouth moved to the words, but it did not speak. She did not seem curious in the least why she still heard thestatement.Another blue symbol appeared, entirely unique to the other symbol. It moved into a different orbit, yet passing dangerously close to the other symbol. They react in a manner as if they sought to make an embrace, yet they never moved close enough. Asthe symbolentered it's orbit, seconds after being heard, another image of herself appeared. She was without ears. It was the cottonballs, she thought, for they are what I see. A conflicting yellow image, made in the perfect mirror of the first symbol came into existance, and moved to an orbit reverse of the other blue symbols. Regardless of their orbits, it always remained perfectly on the other side of the first symbol, and at a conflicting flow to the second. I agree with myself; it was the cottonballs which brought the music, she mused with a thouthful nod. A bell suddenly tolled, echoing outward in the darkness, as it was torn away, as if the sound of the bell tore at the shadows as though they were paper canvas. The image of Acacea looking up at her seemed hidden behind it, as she herself looked on the tips of her toes out of a small tear not far from her. It was in that moment that she suddenly was without existance, and the world was once again. . .
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She smiled with a nod down at Acacea.