Post by ShyDivinity on Sept 20, 2005 11:57:39 GMT 8
Over a Realm away from the meeting taking place...the sea was vast, uncaring, pure and cruel. It is the greatest unexplored tomb in all the world, also, its greatest highway. The water that washed the hundreds of bodies onto the beach, also carried the ships that made civilization possible. Xenith Ahrimal stared out at the water with weary eyes, striving in his tired heart to be like the ocean. Endlessly, enduring, endlessly uncaring. His arm was in agony from the bone-deep wound in his shoulder. It would have felled and perhaps killed any other being than himself, but it was simply one more agony in a life full of war and pain to the once proud warrior. He bore the injury and the sting of the surgeon's needle as he stitched the wound closed without flinching or of complaints.
Forenya Megil lay impaled in a swath of bloodied white sand...the bodies of the pirates lolled back and forth as the waves pushed at their cooling remains. The sun shone bright as it travelled across the sky above, its apex of the waning afternoon, shone down upon the droplets of life that slowly traced their ay down the cold calculating weapon the warrior carried as his only true companion. There had been no sign, no news of Vincent, since the time he had attacked Xenith and Winter. It had been a few days gone now since he had walked out on Winter back at their last meeting. " Relax,' the surgeon ordered, his voice cutting through the foggy mist of thoughts that were creeping in at a slow crawl. His eyes watched...so much blood. Was fighting the only thing he was ever going to find?
The surgeon was completely unnecessary...but for all sake of appearing as a simple mortal well trained, he sat upon the piece of driftwood as the needle sank in and out of his flesh between the skilled fingers that probed and sewing shut the cleaved flesh. His body would heal in time of its own...much quicker than what would be expected. A few hours, after a night's rest. He was more concerned with finding a tailor to repair his coat which lay draped over his legs. Shadows were beginning to elongate, as the sun moved onwards across the horizon. The sparing rays shining down upon the curves of his lean back, the broad bare shoulders as the fingers of ebony stretched forward down the length of his torso, following the etched muscles and dried stains of his own blood.
The untimely arrival and attack upon the seaside village had the stench and planning of Seraph written all over it. His twin brother had been taking a great risk...though it had only been to serve a purpose. Was he really uncaring as he was leading himself to believe? Perhaps? But then again, just when the pirates had thought they were to have complete control and cooperation of the village and its people...Xenith had curbed his waning pride, swallowed his fear of returning to battle and engaged the enemy. One on one they hadn't stood a chance against the seasoned warrior of many ages. They quickly grew smart enough to overwhelm him to the point one had snuck in amidst the group that rushed at once and landed the blow that ripped through his flesh. Arrogance had left him blind.
The wound, the flow of his own blood had seemed to act as that fated catalyst...the very one that removed the veil of arrogant terms. His body had reacted quicker than his mind could process, turning he had struck hard and struck fast, like a venomous serpent. The last had fallen before his thoughts had time enough to catch up with his own reflexes. The surgeon was just about done and finished with the last of the fine stitches by the time Xenith seemed to break away from his own thoughts? For a moment he might have thought, assumed he had felt the Earth beneath his feet crying out his name? It had to be only his over acting imagination. The shoulder still stung as he rolled it forward, then backwards, keeping the arm lose, free of cramps. " Take it easy," the surgeon replied.
Dismissing the surgeon, dismissing himself away from so much violence and unwanted attention. The crowd of villager that waited int he wings beneath the slow trickle of twilight. Waiting for whom they deemed a savior to join them? They would be waiting an eternity. Picking himself up, his coat slipping to lay against the sand, he stepped over it and moved more towards the water's edge. Amidst his own revelations, his awareness had not seen or indicated the small boy which was breaking away from the crowd to run down the slopping dune. His father was a taylor, and the child, no more than eight or nine stole up the piece of material and ran off back into the village depths. Further away from prying eyes he felt the flow of mana, his essence burning, searing, sawing at the stitches.
A sparkle of water, a tiny drop oozed from the hilt of his almost forgotten blade. The crystal tear-shaped drop sung a sad song in a whimpered voice as it slid down the razored-edge. Remaining light was caught in its reflection. Taking a moment and setting it aside for himself, to be remembered later on, he looks back over his shoulder. Again he became distracted by another tremor, another voice of agaony from the Earth below. His eyes, cold and uncaring as ice, narrowed as he was sure he truly felt it that time? Could this mean one of them were close at hand? Had Winter sent for another to try and persuade him into coming back? " Never," his voice was chilled, his tongue to the point of freezing with anger. Fingers curled inward toward the palms, creating fists.
The foam spraying edges of the lapping waves about his feet seemed to shift with the sudden rise of his ill-fated temper. Not only was Seraph part of this nasty brewing equation...but perhaps his warnings had not been heeded as requested to Winter before? Though he could not be absolutely sure, nonetheless he was positive the Earth had cried out his name. The sun began its descent, casting one long ray to slip over the watery surface as the blazing ball slid towards the edge of the known world. By now the villagers began to retreat, one by one. There were things to mend and to rebuild. There busy mundane lives had been interrupted enough for one day. Possibly the stranger would feel more welcomed after time alone. The sounds of the waves were calming enough, for now.
Forenya Megil lay impaled in a swath of bloodied white sand...the bodies of the pirates lolled back and forth as the waves pushed at their cooling remains. The sun shone bright as it travelled across the sky above, its apex of the waning afternoon, shone down upon the droplets of life that slowly traced their ay down the cold calculating weapon the warrior carried as his only true companion. There had been no sign, no news of Vincent, since the time he had attacked Xenith and Winter. It had been a few days gone now since he had walked out on Winter back at their last meeting. " Relax,' the surgeon ordered, his voice cutting through the foggy mist of thoughts that were creeping in at a slow crawl. His eyes watched...so much blood. Was fighting the only thing he was ever going to find?
The surgeon was completely unnecessary...but for all sake of appearing as a simple mortal well trained, he sat upon the piece of driftwood as the needle sank in and out of his flesh between the skilled fingers that probed and sewing shut the cleaved flesh. His body would heal in time of its own...much quicker than what would be expected. A few hours, after a night's rest. He was more concerned with finding a tailor to repair his coat which lay draped over his legs. Shadows were beginning to elongate, as the sun moved onwards across the horizon. The sparing rays shining down upon the curves of his lean back, the broad bare shoulders as the fingers of ebony stretched forward down the length of his torso, following the etched muscles and dried stains of his own blood.
The untimely arrival and attack upon the seaside village had the stench and planning of Seraph written all over it. His twin brother had been taking a great risk...though it had only been to serve a purpose. Was he really uncaring as he was leading himself to believe? Perhaps? But then again, just when the pirates had thought they were to have complete control and cooperation of the village and its people...Xenith had curbed his waning pride, swallowed his fear of returning to battle and engaged the enemy. One on one they hadn't stood a chance against the seasoned warrior of many ages. They quickly grew smart enough to overwhelm him to the point one had snuck in amidst the group that rushed at once and landed the blow that ripped through his flesh. Arrogance had left him blind.
The wound, the flow of his own blood had seemed to act as that fated catalyst...the very one that removed the veil of arrogant terms. His body had reacted quicker than his mind could process, turning he had struck hard and struck fast, like a venomous serpent. The last had fallen before his thoughts had time enough to catch up with his own reflexes. The surgeon was just about done and finished with the last of the fine stitches by the time Xenith seemed to break away from his own thoughts? For a moment he might have thought, assumed he had felt the Earth beneath his feet crying out his name? It had to be only his over acting imagination. The shoulder still stung as he rolled it forward, then backwards, keeping the arm lose, free of cramps. " Take it easy," the surgeon replied.
Dismissing the surgeon, dismissing himself away from so much violence and unwanted attention. The crowd of villager that waited int he wings beneath the slow trickle of twilight. Waiting for whom they deemed a savior to join them? They would be waiting an eternity. Picking himself up, his coat slipping to lay against the sand, he stepped over it and moved more towards the water's edge. Amidst his own revelations, his awareness had not seen or indicated the small boy which was breaking away from the crowd to run down the slopping dune. His father was a taylor, and the child, no more than eight or nine stole up the piece of material and ran off back into the village depths. Further away from prying eyes he felt the flow of mana, his essence burning, searing, sawing at the stitches.
A sparkle of water, a tiny drop oozed from the hilt of his almost forgotten blade. The crystal tear-shaped drop sung a sad song in a whimpered voice as it slid down the razored-edge. Remaining light was caught in its reflection. Taking a moment and setting it aside for himself, to be remembered later on, he looks back over his shoulder. Again he became distracted by another tremor, another voice of agaony from the Earth below. His eyes, cold and uncaring as ice, narrowed as he was sure he truly felt it that time? Could this mean one of them were close at hand? Had Winter sent for another to try and persuade him into coming back? " Never," his voice was chilled, his tongue to the point of freezing with anger. Fingers curled inward toward the palms, creating fists.
The foam spraying edges of the lapping waves about his feet seemed to shift with the sudden rise of his ill-fated temper. Not only was Seraph part of this nasty brewing equation...but perhaps his warnings had not been heeded as requested to Winter before? Though he could not be absolutely sure, nonetheless he was positive the Earth had cried out his name. The sun began its descent, casting one long ray to slip over the watery surface as the blazing ball slid towards the edge of the known world. By now the villagers began to retreat, one by one. There were things to mend and to rebuild. There busy mundane lives had been interrupted enough for one day. Possibly the stranger would feel more welcomed after time alone. The sounds of the waves were calming enough, for now.