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Post by december on Sept 25, 2010 22:40:45 GMT -6
December cupped her hands around a ball of conjured flame as she stepped quietly down a slightly overgrown path. The fire was useful in that it both kept the encroaching evening-time chill at bay and lit up the spaces around her, eradicating whatever shadows she hadn’t already softened. She allowed a spark or two to dance around her fingers every once in awhile, chuckling softly to herself as they gently tickled her skin. She didn’t fear fire. It was her friend. It might have scared her when she was a child, yes, but that was because she didn’t know its quirky, energetic nature and let it grow out of control. Now was different.
A shudder ran through her body. It was time to turn up the heat a little. December let her energy flow into the element. Closing her eyes, she guided the fire with instict, feeling it criss-cross up her arms, around her torso, and down to her feet. The flames lingered for a moment, illuminating her small figure, before disappearing into the night, alive still only in the palms of her hands. A smile graced her lips.
As darkness began to truly settle, December realized that it probably was not a good idea to be wandering about at night. She was quite the helpless little thing, when it came down to it. If anything attacked her, she… well, she wasn’t sure what she would do. She didn’t normally have to worry about it, because nothing ever messed with Calix. But Calix wasn’t here. He had been in one of his moods today, so she left him and did some wandering about. She knew he preferred to be alone and she didn’t exactly want to be around such negativity if she didn’t have to. December loved Calix like a brother, yes, but even the closest family members had to be apart from each other sometimes. Leaving Vala was probably a bad idea, though. December had planned on heading toward the Imperial City for the day, staying the night in a cheap place, then returning home the next morning. She hadn’t considered that she was leaving too late in the day for that to be possible.
A spark of fear ignited in her now, the feeling of dread that started in the pit of the stomach and worked its way up until it constricted the lungs. Without any walls around to protect her, December was fair game to whatever creature--humanistic or no--happened to be roaming the night. Extinguishing the flames, December instead drew the shadows to her body. They were nothing like the fire she so adored. Shadows were cold and unfeeling, insensitive and, well, dark. They concealed her enough, though, that she wasn’t as much of a sitting duck should something be happening her way. Traveling any further or attempting to turn back now were probably not smart on her behalf. Movement of the shadows aroused suspicion, after all, and the last thing she wanted was to be noticed at this point. Staying put wasn’t really smart, either. She was out in the open and had no sense of security about her at all, aside from the shadows.
“Calix, I wish you were here,” she whispered to no one (she hoped). Wish for his presence she did, too. She wouldn’t feel nearly as paranoid with him around. A twig snapped in the distance. December jumped and let out a little gasp, her eyes wide and instantly alert. That small sound was enough to motivate her to try and head back home. But what made that twig crack? It could have been something terrifying, like a vampire, or… or some kind of demon. She knew things like that lurked out in the dark. There were probably other things too, things that she couldn’t even start imagining. It was hard to keep the shadows surrounding her at the rate of her trembling at the mere thought of creatures that were all fangs and claws, just waiting to rip her to shreds. She wanted to be home now, laying in her bed and not nearly as frightened for her life as she was now.
She heard another stick breaking, and another. Seeking some form of comfort, December’s hand dove into her small bag and grasped the miniature doll her mother had given her. It was a plain little thing, yes, and the years hadn’t been kind to it, but that didn’t matter, especially not now. It was something familiar to hold onto as she broke into a brisk walk. She felt some shadows falling away and decided that if something was already following her, hiding was pointless. She kept a small flame flickering in her free hand and safely away from the doll.
This was one of those moments where December really wished that she was only just imagining things.
WORDS: 808
MUSE: Inside the City of Glass - Katatonia
TAGS: open
NOTES: be nice please ._. or be mean, whatever. :P
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Post by tristan on Sept 29, 2010 12:47:15 GMT -6
Vala...Truly, this was the most comforting place Oran Creed could hope to be found in. There was always a measure of distress, some inner turmoil to be found within its confines, the high walls concealing some unknown treachery within. It was...refreshing, almost. It reminded the ranger that he was still human; still part of a world that tore at itself for something as simple as right and wrong. It was why he never cared for it-- never chose a side for which to fight, or let himself be bought for something so base a cause as justice. Justice would seek itself. There was no need for a mercenary to get involved in it.
Yet, there was something that Oran did often find himself in the middle of: vampires. For some unfortunate reason, they orbited around him, constantly seeking the trouble of his sword. For what ultimate fate had he drawn such lots in life, he was unsure. What he knew, however, was that it seemed appropriate that he be watchful in such a city as this. As it was in the times when he'd pass through Odantton, there was always a creature who would seek to wet his fangs on what he thought was weak and unwatched. Oran always had eyes for the prey of his prey...
Even now, he smirked inwardly, watching the young woman play with a soft flame, spinning it, melding it, warming herself needlessly with it. She was drawing far too much attention to herself than necessary. His cloak was drawn around him, his features shrouded behind the olive drab hood that fell about his eyes. Oran kept himself close, his steps careful and quiet, watching the cretins that lined the city streets, their eyes gazing dully up at the seemingly fragile woman. She had not witnessed one of the figures rise. As she quickened her pace, the assailant also doubled his. He was not careful, nor did he seem to care. She was a woman, she was alone, and he clearly thought himself the better for his selection on his hunt.
His steps crushed twig and branch underfoot, and the longer his chase continued, the more flustered the woman seemed to be. He watched as the creature slipped through a back alley, escaping into shadow. Oran glanced to his surroundings, then followed in a sweeping turn.
“Calix, I wish you were here,” Oran heard the woman's whisper, which rang out clear in the quiet of the night.
"Calix not here. You all alone..." The cackle of her clumsy stalker came from the shadow of an alley. "And Gremton is hungry."
The fiend stepped to the open, cutting off December's desired path. He faced her, his pale-grey skin shining in the moon's ray of light. His eyes were deep and blood-shot, his hair a wild mess of charcoal strands, and his lips curled into a devil's grin. The creature could smell fear. He could sense the fragileness of her spirit, the softness of her skin, and even imagine the taste of her warm blood.
"So very... HUNGRY!" Gremton leapt at her, his bony hands extended towards her, hoping to ensnare her. His jaw extended, fangs bearing in a sickening yellow hue. It seemed his meal would have been secured, and, yet, before the creature could even fathom a cry, he was seized.
The hooded ranger had emerged from shadow, moving with speed unlike most any other man. His hand wrapped around the vampire's throat, bringing him back to the reality that he was not the only hunter within Vala this night. Gremton struggled, but to no avail. His attacker quickly brought him against the stone wall of an adjacent building, forcing him against it and holding him securely with but one hand, which gripped about his trachea. Cold blue eyes pierced him with a glare, and the creature shrunk back.
"I-I sorry! I not know! I not know!" Gremton struggled, pulling at the man's hand in an attempt to free himself. "..Was..only a bit of...fun!" He managed between gasps.
With his free hand, Oran shrugged the cloak off of his shoulders, exposing the handle of one of the shortswords holstered over his back. Gremton seemed to register the weapon quickly, for his struggling increased dramatically, small fits of "no"'s and "don't"'s emitting pathetically from him. In his flailing, the hood that shrouded the man fell, revealing the long, thick strands of sandy-blond hair. His face was young enough, but weathered, and held a constant calm in his features, seeming completely undisturbed by what was currently happening.
The sword came free of its sheath. The devil managed only one final cry before his head was cleanly severed, the body falling into a heap as Oran released him. The ranger turned on his heel, wiping the rotten blood from his sword and onto his cloak. His eyes then appraised the woman before him, his gaze stern and commanding. "Do you not know any better than to draw attention to yourself?" He asked flatly. "These walls are filled with creatures like him. It is not safe to wander the streets so freely." He chastized her briefly, but then turned to the more important matter. "Are you unhurt?"
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Post by december on Sept 29, 2010 21:43:05 GMT -6
December only thought she knew fear. It was something she faced often, but her cousin was usually right there to save her from whatever peril she set herself to. This time, he wasn’t here. He was probably at home. He might not even be worried about her. He would figure she would have the sense to keep her nose out of trouble, especially in this town. She had spent the majority of her life here, after all.
The girl stumbled back as a terrible creature leapt before her, barring her way. She hit the ground, though any pain she should be feeling was numbed. A shriek, ending as quickly as it began out of sheer terror, escaped December’s throat as her soft gray eyes grew as wide as a set of dinner plates. She felt her heartbeat begin racing faster than the swiftest of steeds, and her breath came in short, panicky gasps. She could only stare at the monster before her, knowing full well its intentions. No one would ever know what had happened to her. Calix would tear the town apart looking for her if she never came home. Well, she hoped so. He might have just assumed she moved elsewhere.
As the creature lunged for her, she felt the faintest brush of his fingers against her forearm. It was colder than ice on the most frigid of winter days and sent a shudder through her body. She knew what this was. And she knew what would warm it. Her blood. December was quaking almost uncontrollably now, trying to resign to her fate. It was her own fault.
It never really crossed her mind that a vampire was vulnerable to the one thing she cherished above all else. Had her wits remained about her, she could have disposed of this vile thing with a quick burst of her flames. She just had no courage and faltered in the face of danger. It was quite pathetic, really, and she hated herself for it.
Curling into a ball and squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for the worst, but it never came. A bit bewildered, the girl’s eyes opened to see her savior, just in time to hear the strangled cries and witness the execution. Her stomach clenched and reeled, and she had to close her eyes once more. She was such a coward. She didn’t dare look past her eyelids again until she heard what she assumed was the stranger’s voice, scolding her. She shrank back further and pulled her knees tighter to her chest, casting her gaze to his boots. In her hand, the doll remained, constricted by the vice grip her fingers had around it. “I-I’m sorry. I normally… I’m not thinking clearly tonight,” she managed to babble out, her voice shaky as she tried to slow her breathing. December analyzed herself, and other than the small patch on her arm that was still oddly cool and some scrapes across her palm and knuckles from where she had fallen, she was fine. It had barely touched her.
“I’m… fine. I’m okay. I‘m okay,” she replied, though it was more to reassure herself than to answer his question. She spent a moment in silence before deeming it safe enough to stand again. Rising to her feet, she murmured, “Thank you for saving me. I would surely have perished, as you know, if you hadn’t been here.” December looked away shyly, eyes settling on her hands. She remembered the doll and hastily placed it back in her bag, freeing her fingers. “Would you mind if I asked your name?”
WORDS: 600 (tired + writing = fail)
MUSE: slipknot
TAGS: oran
NOTES: i love you for replying <3 this could be fun :3
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Post by tristan on Oct 3, 2010 2:30:56 GMT -6
Oran’s eyes flitted in either direction of the street, his gaze falling on the curious onlookers that milled about, here and there. His piercing eyes quickly told them, however, that their attentions should fall elsewhere, and he and December became invisible once more. This was how it should be. This was the natural way of the city. Trouble would seek those it could find. It was a learned art to be both seen and unseen, and it seemed that this stranger had a rather good mastery of it all. Still, he had done more than he should have. He had stayed. He should have slain the vermin and left. It would have left December without suspicion. Too many eyes had seen them, already.
Vala was a city bathed in misery and anxiety. Each soul that passed through these walls was marked by one individual or another. Each soul was assessed, given weight to strength, usefulness, power, or influence. There was something about each that could either be destroyed, stolen, or used for benefit. Creatures fed on the weak, the gainsome looked to expand their house or clan through the added strength of a new ally, the dark looked to steal what joys they could from them. In every case, however, each wore the same face; that same haunted expression, as though something were chasing them. Save for this stranger…
It was what made him so very dangerous in their eyes. A man whose sword could not be kept through morality, or bid to fight for justice. A man who did not fight for queen or country, nor fame and power, or anything other than the gold that would supply his needs…Such a man was incomprehensible, and what one did not understand was feared. A man with no allegiance was dangerous. Whispers of this human…this “Bard”…were large in scale. The tales that surrounded him and his exploits often sent shivers down the spine. It almost made Oran laugh, for he was but a man, and a man whose nature was not nearly as dark as many would like to believe. His outward visage, his countenance, the simple way he wielded himself was a warning, and nothing more.
The world devoured the weak. It hunted them, fed on them, drove them to madness. If you were weak, you were prey, and Oran Creed was prey to nothing. He was the hunter, and he would hang the world by a noose before he let it consume him, or any he felt undeserving of such a fate. That was why his actions could never be seen as justice. Mercy, perhaps, but never justice. Justice was dead on this world. Mercy was either served with a quick death or a life of servitude in exchange for a meager existence. He’d given Gremton his allotment of mercy, and he’d likewise given this young woman her life back.
As he surveyed her, his eyes assessing her condition slowly as he took in her features, Oran sheathed the shortsword and knelt in front of her, settling the cloak back over his shoulder to guard the hilt of the weapon from sight. “I’m… fine. I’m okay. I‘m okay,” the ranger nodded to her slightly, his agreement clear on that part. It did not take long for her to regain much of her composure, and she stood. Oran followed her movements, his eyes taking note of those that lined the streets, again. “Thank you for saving me. I would surely have perished, as you know, if you hadn’t been here.”
“You need not thank me, miss.” He spoke quietly, “Vala is no place for a young woman to walk alone, nor go without protective eyes.”
Gremton’s last moments had been pathetic, and Oran knew why. It was also why he knew certain passerby had taken curious eyes to them. They knew this ranger by deed and reputation alone. He was a man whose weaknesses were unknown, and few dared to cross him in an attempt to find them. What was known, however, was that he was no enemy you wished to have, and the very few that earned his trust and befriended him were protected. Gremton, clearly, must have thought December to have been close to him when he had apologized profusely. The judging eyes that had followed the encounter told Oran quite a similar reaction to this deed was taken by the rest. This did not bode well.
“But you must leave this city. You must not remain in Vala…” the ranger’s eyes were solemn as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. If she stayed, there would be those who sought to use her as leverage against him, thinking her someone of great import to the mercenary. Why else would he have acted on her behalf? Oran would not allow the same mistake to repeat itself. Such a fate had already befallen another, and there was little Oran could do to save that life twice.
His eyes had taken note of the small doll that she so hastily stowed. Most had a keepsake. Something to remind them that the world wasn’t always so dark. For Oran, it was the brooch that clasped to his cloak, just above the center of his collar bone. It had belonged to his mother, once upon a very long time ago. The intricate, metallic leaf was wrapped in silver thorns, the lining pure against the dark green of the cloak and paint of the leaf, itself. It was often the smallest of objects that brought the most joy to others. Oran did not even wish to question the poor woman on what that doll meant to her.
“Would you mind if I asked your name?”
The ranger paused, his head turning to advert his gaze from her. His name had been something secreted so well, that very few actually knew the mercenary as anything more than “The Bard”. Those that did knew better than to compromise the man, for he was a friend, and a powerful one. It was better for his identity to be his own. Slowly, however, Oran stepped to her, the distance between them closing so that he might whisper to her ear.
His voice lowered to nothing more than a breath as he spoke, “The name Oran Creed will be both known and unknown to you. Speak it only when there are no ears to hear it, save for I.” He paused, his eyes scanning what they could of the street. “I am the Bard. I am a man of many enemies, and those enemies will now think you a friend to me. You must leave…”
Oran thought for an idle moment. December was young. She was clearly not versed in the ways to which one should use to survive in this world. He had the suspicion that she rarely traveled alone, which brought to the point that she would not make it very far without his additional aid. “…Name but one place. A single destination, and my sword and bow will guard you until you are safely there.” Oran so disliked charity, but he disliked the idea of letting this young woman become the subject of misfortune on his behalf a great deal more. He would do what he must.
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