ok so i hav this tendency to get sections of stories stuck n my head even before i get to the place in the story where it needs to be written, so i write it out anyway to get it out of my head
so i decided to go ahead and put those up for ppl to read and stuff; feel free to comment and criticize in anyway, i want to improve as much as possible
u can also post a story clip of ur own if u want
if you want me to read a story and tell u my thoughts i'll b glad to; but please don't ask me to RP b/c of what u read here i've got too many RPs going and i can barely keep up with the ones I'm n as it is so the answer will b no
also, i have this exact thread on Chicken Smoothie, so i promise i'm not plagiarizing, i just thought i'd share it here too
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(for this RP: viewtopic.php?f=28&t=844959#p21493892)
Quinton jumped away as a goth girl with wolf ears and a tail jumped at him. “Wow,” he taunted with a laugh, “could you be more cliché?”
The girl growled and swung her weapon at him with much more speed than a weapon that size should be wielded. “Die mutt,” she snarled disdainfully as she kept him on the defense.
“Hmm, so who of yours did I kill?” he asked, "or are you just the lackey of the revengee?”
“Kill? You killed no one I know. I’m here to wipe one more abomination off the planet.”
“Mmm, I’ll be glad to go if you pay for it.”
“What are you going on about mongrel?”
Quinton decided to stop letting her think she was winning and grabbed the scythe just below the blade, “You paying NASA for the shuttle to take me off planet. I’ve always wanted to go, both of us get what we want.” Fear showed in the werewolf’s face and she tried to pull her weapon away from him but he easily held on. “So I’m guessing you’ve fought many mutts before?” Quinton asked yanking the scythe out of her hands and kicking her in the stomach, sending her gasping to the ground. “They must’ve been giving you the easy ones, the unlucky few that get the bad end of the deal. The ones that are weaker than the purebreds. Well, we’re not all like that, in fact, most of us get stronger.” He raised the blade over her body, “Much stronger . . .”
“Jayna?” Quinton asked as he pulled the scythe out of the dead werewolf girl. The head of a man came flying through the darkening trees past him, followed by a giggle. He chuckled and jogged towards it. “What was that about not letting me get blood on my nice new clothes?” he said with a smirk.
She appeared in front of him, her back facing him, “Don’t worry, it’s only a couple drops. Plus the shirt is black, so no one will ever notice.”
“Yes, but my pants are khaki, and that large red drop is very noticeable.”
“Don’t worry,” she said spinning around and facing him with a grin, “that one drop will--”
She didn’t finish as that one drop suddenly became very many drops and a surprised look spread across her face.
All the breath went out of Quinton as he felt Jayna’s blood dripping down his face. They both looked down to see a serrated sword sticking out of her chest.
But Jayna wouldn’t go down that easy, she transported away from the blade, showing a small man just behind where she’d been standing. The man locked eyes with Quinton, who was frozen in the spot from surprise and from the multitude of thoughts about the sudden loss of his sister flashing through his head.
The man, keeping eye contact with Quinton, flipped the bloody sword around backwards and pulled his arm forward and thrust back, perfect timing for Jayna to reappear just as the sword cut through where there’d been empty space before. She gasped as the edges ripped through chucks of her stomach, shredding through her insides.
The gasp was just enough to release Quinton from his deer in the headlights moment and he lunged forward.
As Quinton moved forward the man in front of him ripped the sword out of Jayna, spraying more blood and chucks of flesh across the two of them, and flipped it back around to aim at Quinton, he had no worries about Jayna any longer.
But the blade didn’t even slow Quinton down as he knocked it aside, not even noticing the gash it left on the back on his arm, and swung the scythe.
The man quite suddenly realized this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Noticing the scythe was from one of his best fighters, and the mutt before him didn’t even bare a scratch from the fight. He jumped away from Quinton, confused by the expressionless, blood-covered face that advanced towards him. He was kept on the defense, barely blocking and dodging the massive scythe.
He decided to take a chance and, waiting till after Quinton swung, dodged to the his left, then ran at Quinton’s unprotected side, with a taunt that usually made his prey get worked up and make mistakes: “Come on mutt, that’s the best you got.” He swung his blade at the unprotected area just under Quinton’s shoulder, just under his ribs.
Quinton didn’t seem to notice the taunt as he let go of the scythe with one hand and flipped it sideways under his arm so that it came up between the man’s legs and would’ve split him in half but he turned into a puff of black smoke before either blade met its mark.
The smoke moved away and resolidified, the power had obviously taken a toll on him. He was breathing harder but he raised the sword and went after Quinton once more, trying to get on the offensive, but Quinton ripped the sword out of the man’s hands with his telekinesis and threw it far out of reach, then went after him once more with the scythe knowing the man couldn’t keep using his power for much longer.
Quinton continually sliced at the man, keeping him moving backward to dodge the blade. He kept out of it’s way for the most part, but when he couldn’t dodge he was forced to turn into the black smoke, getting weaker each time he used it. He would try and get closer to his sword while in the cloud, but couldn’t keep the form up for long and Quinton was always between him and his weapon. For the first time in his life he feared it wouldn’t be able to win. This mix-breed was like no other he’d ever fought, he realized it was a fatal mistake to kill the half-breed first, she was probably much weaker than this mutt that seemed to have snapped.
Quinton lunged once more, forcing his now slow opponent to turn into a cloud one more time, then, using the man’s own dirty trick against him, he waited till he started to solidify once more and ran at him, slicing the scythe through the half-solid smoke, the man gasped as he felt the slice of a blade for the first time, and the last. He fell to the ground in two pieces as his form took completely solidarity once more. Quinton stood over his fallen opponent, barely breathing any harder than when he’d started.
Quinton stared down at corpse, his mind totally blank, but then there was a small, almost imperceptible groan behind him and quite suddenly the reason he’d killed the man became known again. A horrified look came over his face and he spun around, scanning the ground until he saw her laying there, one hand clutching her stomach, the other her chest. He dropped the scythe and sprinted over to her, dropping to his knees and skidding to her side.
He couldn’t seem to breath as he saw his normally energetic and happy sister gasping for breath and wincing in pain. “Jayna,” he sighed fearfully.
She opened her eyes and smirked at him, “That happened a lot,” she wince and had to catch her breath, “sooner than I thought it would.” Her words were gargled, there was blood in her lungs.
“I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, as he started trying to stop the bleeding, knowing it would do no good.
Jayna grabbed his hand, stopping him and releasing her chest wound, Quinton knew it by itself would be fatal, and he was sure the other was the same, even though he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t believe in fact that she was still alive. “It’s . . . it’s okay . . . Quinton,” Jayna gasped, closing her eyes again in pain.
“No,” Quinton shook his head, “no it’s not, I should’ve--”
“No,” she interrupted him, her voice suddenly getting stronger, “you couldn’t’ve done . . . anything. Do not . . . blame yourself for this. Look at me." Quinton opened his eyes, they were shining from unshed tears. His blue eyes met her normally warm brown or happy purple eyes, but now they were cold and silver. "You couldn't've done anything that would've stopped this from happening."
Quinton nodded, although both of them knew he didn't really believe it, so many different scenarios kept running through his head.
"Mornié utúlié," she said after a moment with a smile and looked expectantly at him. Quinton shook his head, he couldn't finished it, he couldn't believe it. She reached up with the hand on her stomach and smacked him, succeeding only in smearing more blood across his face, "Say it. Mornié utúlié."
Quinton sighed, closing his eyes once more and adding, "Believe and you will find your way."
"Remember that." She closed her eyes and her body went limp.
“Jayna!” Quinton cried out fearfully, gripping her limp hand in one of his and placing the other on the side of her face.
She opened her eyes, “I almost forgot.”
This totally took Quinton by surprise and he wasn’t able to say anything, but he watched her as she slowly brought her knee up and try to reach into the pocket. She winced and sighed, “Can’t . . . get it. . . . Need you to.”
Quinton’s brow furrowed and he reached into the pocket she’d been reaching for and pulled out a small black box.
“Dad . . . Dad told me to give that to you, said . . . it’s been in his family for years. . . . He wanted you to have it.” She sighed and let her leg drop back down to the ground. “I told . . . I . . . told . . . “ she never finished the sentence as she stopped having the strength to hold on and finally drifted away.
Quinton couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and he sobbed as he gripped the lifeless hand in his. His tears falling on her face and washing away some of the blood there.
(this one has entered the story)
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The gun shot ricocheted through the trees and her breath abandoned her as she spun towards the sound, her heart sank as she saw him slam backwards to the ground. She started to run at him but a distinctive click caused her to freeze in her tracks. She turned her head as the barrel of the a gun removed itself from the shadows, slowly followed by a woman with a smirk on her face.
“That would be one down. Don’t you worry, you filthy mutt, you’ll be joining him in hell shortly.”
There was another deafening bang and pain sliced through her chest and threw her to the ground.
The woman stalked forward as she lay there gasping for breath. “I’ve been stalking the two of you for months now.” She pointed her gun down at Eztli’s head. “I don’t really need to waste anymore bullets but I do love to see the pain on your face, and I seem to have aimed just right to keep you alive for a bit.” The woman moved the gun so that it aimed at her shoulder and pulled the trigger.
Eztli screamed as the bullet lodged itself in her shoulder bone and the silver started to spread through her system.
The woman chuckled, “This is probably how your kind feels when they slaughter families.” She cocked the gun a re-aimed it, “You can’t spell slaughter without laughter.” She pulled the trigger and Eztli’s knee cap shattered. Her screams cut through the trees and were quickly followed by sobs of pain as she rolled to her side clutching her shoulder and knee.
The woman looked up as if she heard something and she swore, “It seems I’m out of time you lucky mutt.” She slammed her foot into Eztli’s shoulder and pushed her back to her back. Placing one foot on her wounded shoulder and the other on her destroyed knee the woman stood on Eztli and elicited more screams. “This one will be a painfully slow death,” she aimed the gun once more and slammed a bullet into Eztli’s gut.
Eztli sat straight up with a scream that cut through the entire house.
*the next night*
As she unwillingly slipped back into sleep the comforting shadows were split by a blinding light and her eyes slowly adjusted to see the sun cutting through the leaves and into her eyes. She groaned and rolled away then cried out in pain as her entire body hurt. Then the memories of the gun and the bullets and the woman came back and with them more tears. She forced herself to her stomach and looked around frantically, then she saw him. He was laying there limp and not moving. “No,” she whispered.
Only able to use one arm and one leg and in blinding pain with every movement, she dragged herself over to his body and laid across him taking his face in her bloody hands. “No,” she cried, the hole in his forehead and the blood on his face defied life, but the startled expression looked so lifelike. Surely the dead couldn’t be so surprised. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, as if that would wake him, “No!” She slammed a weak fist on his chest as she said it over and over again. She dropped her head on his chest in defeat as her tears and blood soaked his shirt.
Eventually the shadows closed in on her once more as blood loss and pain took their toll.
(this clip has entered the story)
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With a roar the dragon thrashed and the blue, broken body of Nic went flying.
A rage came over Tala like she'd only felt once before. "No," she groaned. She couldn't let it happen again. Not after what had happened last time. But the dragon didn't care about her past, it went after Nic and the last of her constraint broke. She cried out in rage as her body transformed into her true, hated, self. Her face grew longer, as did her teeth. Her hair joined into thick, scaled strands. Her skin darkened and hardened. Her fingers became claws. She dropped her sword and leapt into the air straight at the beast.
With its attentions on Nic it didn't notice her until her claws sunk in at the base of its neck. With a snarl of pain and rage it turned its anger onto the small black, half dragon figure digging into it. It snapped at her, she was easily able to dodge its attack, and assault its shoulder just below its wing. Unable to reach her with its head, it swung its tail at her. She dodged again and the sharp edges of its tail cut deep into the already red scales like they were a human's weak flesh. Irritated and dripping with blood the dragon was more dangerous now even than before. It thrashed and swatted at her, but she was smaller and quicker and it always wound up hurting itself even more.
Tala somehow wound up about a hundred feet above it and the dragon let out a burst of flame at her.
This was her chance.
Her scales made her fire proof so she dove in, the dragon could not see her through the flames and she dove straight into its mouth, claws extended.
"Tala!" Nic yelled in a hoarse, weak voice. From his angle he had seen everything.
"You need to shift," Ladon snarled flying past him.
"I-I can't," he winced as his shattered bones protested his every movement.
"You can," Dusa growled, limping up to him. "She's going to need you and you cannot do anything for her in this form. It's going to hurt, probably worse than anything you've ever imagined. But you must."
The dragon moaned as Tala dug into its throat from the inside, ripping it to pieces. It was done. She tore out of its throat and spun to watch it. In a final desperate attempt at killing her it spun it's hindquarters around and swiped its tail at her, she wasn't able to dodge fast enough. The huge body crashed to the ground, with a final moan of pain the life melted out of its huge, multi-colored eyes.
"Tal-agh," Nic cried out as his entire body shivered in pain at his getting to his feet. His feet, not his claws. He had to concentrate on remaining in his human form, it would be so easy to just slip back. He took one unsteady step and started to fall as his legs, one broken and the other deeply sliced in more than one place, collapsed under his weight. But Dusa caught him and helped him forward. Ladon was hovering franticly over a mess of bloody ashes and tangled hair. Her body shook as she sobbed, she was curled in the fetal position on her side.
Nic hesitated, "Go to her," Dusa said in as soft a voice as he could manage.
"But, I'm not--"
"She needs you."
"She needs him."
"Well he's not alive," Dusa snapped. "Go to her or don't, but do not pretend to love her and then abandon her when she needs you the most. This is a dark moment for her, a moment the likes of you could never understand and without you she may never come back from the brink."
Nic looked away from the wolf and towards the prone, innocent looking figure of the woman he loved. A side of her he'd never seen. The cold hearted assassin was gone; it had died with the dragon, but was what was left in its place any better. With a sigh Nic lurched forward without Dusa. He took a few shaky steps forward before falling to his knees beside her. "Tala," he reached a hand out to her but with a growl she rolled away from him and into a cat-like, offensive crouch. But only for an instant before she collapsed again. He drug himself over to her and grabbed her arm, she was laying face down and did not move but gave out a very menacing growl.
"The human in her soul is suppressed," Dusa muttered from where he stood by the dragon's head.
"As in, the human in her can't deal with having done such a thing." It was more of a statement than a question.
Dusa gave a snort of irritated amusement, "Have you learned nothing in your time with her?" Nic looked back at him with a bemused look. "The animal in her gives her strength and agility, the ability to fight the way she does. The human in her gives her anger and a need for violence, the reason why she fights the way she does. The animal in her is enraged that this has happened again, especially to one of her own kind, and is suppressing the human. Right now she is the equivalent of a wounded animal, not knowing who to trust, but knowing that she will die if she doesn't and she might if she does. Tread carefully, if she hurts you, she might not ever fully return to herself again."
Nic turned back to her; the fire had incinerated what was left of her clothes and she was covered in bloody ashes, hard to tell how much was hers and how much was the dragon's. But he did not see all of that, he saw a girl that needed someone to care for her, to need her and to be needed by her. He wasn't sure if he could fill in the hole that he had left, but he could try, he had to try. He gripped her arm and rolled her over, with a snarl she twisted and sunk her teeth, still elongated, into his arm. His face screwed up in pain but he didn't make a sound, or try to jerk away. He held still and after a moment she let him go and curled up again. Wincing in pain he gathered her up in his arms, ignoring the growl of protest. He started to stand but fell back to his knees, causing himself even more pain. He sat there and just breathed for a moment until the incapacitating pain faded into just a blinding pain and tried again. Again he failed but as he fell a strong hand caught him. He looked up into the face of Longwei. He could just barely detect a hint of worry in his eyes. Longwei helped him up and handed him Tala's cloak which they wrapped around her. Longwei kept him steady, but did not take Tala from him.
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(this just came into my head, it's not for any certain story)
Falling. Falling. Falling.
Nothing. Nothing.
Abyss.
Everything is dark, the shadow envelops. No, I am not falling, floating maybe?
No, I’m not floating, I just, am.
I am. I am . . . here. Surrounded by comforting shadow, suspended in an endless abyss. Nothing to distract me, everything is as it should be.
Now I can--
SLAM
“I’m home!
Ground, underneath me.
Man girl, why is it so dark in here? Turn on some lights once in a while.
Light, blinding me now.
What’chu doing? Why are you laying on the floor?”
I open my eyes, squinting as they get used to the lamp. Glaring up at the roommate I say, “I was concentrating, thank you for ruining it.”
“No prob,” she replies with a grin, I’mma get some food,” she spun around and headed for the kitchen.
Cary sat up rubbing her eyes, she had almost gotten to the weightlessness that she’d been trying for, for weeks. It was a meditation method her teacher had taught her to get past . . . hard times.
Pushing herself to her feet with a sigh, she headed to her room. “Hey, you ok?”
She turned, her roommates face poking out of the kitchen doorway, with a feeble smile she nodded and turned away. She couldn’t pull away from it, no matter how hard she tried, time was supposed to heal, but it wasn’t helping.
She collapsed onto her bed, she stared at the ceiling for a moment then turned her head to the sword hanging on the wall. Why had he never returned, he said he’d return, but it’s been a year now. Her weekly lessons and her meditations were the only things keeping her from going mad.
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(for this RP: viewtopic.php?f=28&t=844959#p21493892)
Something walked through the forest, it was close to impossible to tell what it was, it had a humanoidish shape, but it was only bone . . . and dust, dust that swarmed around it, collecting moisture from the air and then attaching itself to the being, making the skeleton more solidified and whole.
The thing had started to take form, it had a small, child-like shape. As it walked nearby dead animals would rise and go to it, then the leftover flesh would rip of their lifeless bones and stick to the figure, giving it muscles and tendons.
Finally the skin started to form on the thing, giving it feminine features. A little girl, but there was something ageless about her, an innocence that was at the same time wiser than any being that had been on the earth for centuries. As she walked the ground beneath her feet burned to smoldering embers, in the area around the burnt footsteps flowers sprung up, then died. Small rocks rolled over to line the path and a dead breeze blew around her. Occasionally a dead animal would rise to it’s feet and follow her for a while. Carrion animals would follow her curiously. Blind, milky, white eyes piercing the forest.
Gawain and Fintan looked up at the same time they could feel . . . something out in the wood. It had something to do with the elements, and something to do with the animals, and something else that had to do with absolutely nothing. They started towards what ever it was.
Their slow walk, quickening to a fast run. Fintan struggled to keep up with his vampire brother.
Gawain and Fintan dashed around either side of Amanda, not stopping to consider her concerns. They suddenly stopped as they saw a small dark figure walking through the trees. As it passed through a small patch of light Gawain gasped and started shaking his head, but it was still too far away for Fintan’s human eyes to see. Then it spoke, a voice that was as light as wind, as strong as earth, as powerful as fire, and flowed like water; a voice that had the playfulness of a fox pup, and the lovingness of a wolf mother, but was sly like a hunting cougar, and free as a flying falcon. A voice that was some somehow dead. A voice that, to the two of them, was familiar and at the same time totally alien. “Hello, my brothers.”
Fintan froze and Gawain fell to his knees.
(this one has entered the story)
Last edited by TalaLakota on March 27th, 2013, 2:30:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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(for this RP: viewtopic.php?f=28&t=844959#p21493892)
Suddenly a shadow came over them, blocking off the light. Cavan thought for a moment he had died, was surprised at the painlessness of it. But when he opened his eyes he saw Eztli there, holding up a wall of shadow, protecting them from Lamia’s wave of light. Cavan wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified. “Eztli!” he gasped, “you shouldn’t’ve come, it was a trap.”
“Of course it was a trap,” Eztli laughed through clinched teeth, “but I couldn’t very well let my brother and sister die. Let’s face it, it’s better if I die than if you die. Now please move I can’t hold this forever.”
“Right!” Cavan said, scrambling to his feet, he could argue the dieing point later. He grabbed Kiah’s hand and pulled her away from Lamia and Eztli. As soon as they were clear Eztli dropped into the shadow that her wall created and the wave of light washed over where she had stood.
Cavan looked over his shoulder to see Eztli appear beside Lamia and throw shadows at the vampire. He was torn between getting Kiah to safety or helping Eztli out. He decided Eztli could handle herself alone for a while at least and forced himself to keep going. But he stumbled to a halt when he heard a pained growl and triumphant laugh. He spun around to see Eztli clutching her arm, it was bloody and raw and she was gritting her teeth, he could see a couple other wounds on her head and stomach. She glanced at him and he could swear he saw her mouth “I’m sorry” before she turned to face Lamia again.
Cavan’s stomach dropped and he whispered, “No,” as he watched Lamia form another wave of light. His anguished cry became louder as the vampire threw it at his sister. She tried to dodge it, tried to run away, but her legs suddenly failed her and she fell beneath the onslaught of blinding, white light. Cavan released Kiah and started to run after Eztli but something caught his feet and he tripped and fell to the ground. “No!” he screamed, scrambling to his feet, by the time he got back up the light was gone and so was his sister, his little sister, he’d let her die, he’d failed her. He didn’t even try to stop the stream of tears that burst from his eyes as he turned to glare at Lamia.
Her laughter seemed to pierce his soul and fuel his rage. She was laughing at Eztli, at his baby sister, at his best friend, and he wouldn’t stand for it. He screamed with wrath and torment and ran at the vampire but she brushed him aside with a flick of her hand and a small flash of light, he never even got close and the place on his shoulder where the light had hit him had seared the flesh well down into the muscle. He didn’t seem to notice the pain however and he pushed himself to his feet and charged her once more, again she knocked him aside. Yet again he got to his feet and ran at her, not letting the pain in his shoulder or side slow him, nor the fact that he could barely see through his tears. This time she let him get close, a sardonic smirk on her face, then slapped his fist away from her as if it were no more than a fly. He carried the momentum of her parry into a spinning kick at her head which she dodged then slammed the heel of her hand into his chest. He yelled in pain as his sternum shattered and he was thrown away from her and there was a sickening crack as he slammed into a tree and slid to the ground unconscious.
(this has entered the story)
Last edited by TalaLakota on May 21st, 2014, 2:44:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
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(there's a very good chance of this changing or not even happening at all)
Amaya found an instant of respite in the battle and looked around cautiously, she was suddenly struck by a wave of guilt as she saw and heard so many men dying around her, she realized that she had caused some of those yells of pain herself. She started to shake a bit and looked down at the blood covering her hands when suddenly Brogan dashed out of the melee with a vicious grin.
He yelled at her, “Ha, I was right all along! I always knew you couldn’t be trusted. I can’t wait to rub this in Abdiel’s face.” Amaya was rather surprised at the sudden anger that welled up inside her and as Brogan snarled: “Now you’ll die you dirty Sanguis!” and ran at her, sword held high, she was no longer able to contain that anger, nor wanted to. She took one step forward and swung her weapon, easily slipping through his meager defenses, and splitting him open from stomach to chest like a fruit. She stepped over his body as he fell, reminded now why she’d joined the Sanguis. Any regret she felt was quelled as she forced herself to concentrate only on the battle at hand, she could feel remorse later.
She looked around as she jumped back into the fray, swinging her weapon and destroying lives with a strange ease. She noticed then a black haired Ventus giving Moloch a hard time and she made her way over to them. Not that she feared for the Sanguis’s life, nor that she thought he couldn’t handle himself but hey, why not set his abilities going after more than just one retched Ventus at a time. She moved up behind the man who had all his attention trained on Moloch, a fatal mistake in battle. Lifting her weapon she thrust down into the man’s back, it never ceased to amaze her how easily a blade slipped into someone, like a knife through warm butter. She didn’t stop to consider the ramifications of her actions, not wondering who he might be leaving behind, nor what would become of her actions. She slid him off her blade, glanced at Moloch for a second then turned and continued the slaughter.
Du’an grimaced as he traded blows with the strong Sanguis, he hadn’t wanted to get involved in a duel in the middle of battle, it took too much energy and concentration and he was getting nowhere. He completely changing fighting style, a move he’s seen work on some of the best swordsmen, but it was for naught as the Sanguis continued to keep him at bay. He noticed a change of expression on his opponent’s face, but didn’t ponder it, and kept all of his concentration on Moloch, if he had’ve pondered it it might have saved him a lot of pain, for at that moment a blade suddenly exited his chest with an explosion of pain and blood. The blade was gone just as fast as it had appeared and Du’an sunk limply to the ground. No scream of pain emanated from him as his body slammed into the ground. He couldn’t breathe enough to let one out. With every breath he felt the pain once more, felt the blade going in again, and no matter how deep he tried to breathe he couldn’t get enough air. He knew the blade had split his lung. He started to shake as he knew he was dying. To tell the truth he’d always expected it to die like this, young and on a battlefield before his time, but he hadn’t expected it to be just after he’d started actually wanting to live. A few tears slipped out of his eyes, how could one’s fate be so cruel.
Unexpectedly a pair of strong arms lifted him up off the ground and bore him aloft, flying over the swarming sea of demons and Ventus, but his vision was starting to blur as his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen so he barely even saw their movement. He could however tell when the ground stopped moving like it was water and then started to get closer. There was a small jolt as solid earth could now be felt again and then he felt himself being laid on a hard table. A blurry form appeared above him and as it touched him suddenly everything came into focus and he saw Navi standing over him with a horrified expression. He hated it, hated seeing her as anything but happy, and suddenly he hated himself for making her that way. He grabbed her hand, stopping her from trying to heal him. It was a bad wound and he didn’t know if she could heal it and he needed to say things, and needed her to listen. He opened his mouth to talk but all that came out was a strangled gargle, which sent him into a fit of painful coughing, he barely turned his head fast enough to keep from splattering her with blood. But now when he tried to talk again his air way was clean enough to let out a hoarse voice, “Navi . . . I’m so . . . sorry. I shouldn't . . . have got you . . . into . . ." another fit of coughing, his hand that he'd coughed into dripped with his blood, "into this. I can't . . . Navi, you . . . you've made me . . . actually want to . . . wake up . . . each day, and I," this fit was worse, and lasted longer, it left him gasping for air like a fish on land and it was a while before he could go on, "and I can't . . . handle knowing that . . . I've removed your . . . joy from a sad world. . . . So you . . . you have to promise me . . . that you will smile . . . again. That you . . . will be happy once more. . . . Because Navi, I . . . I need you to know . . . I . . . --” one more fit of coughing but this time he didn’t recover from it, his body shuddered as the blood loss and oxygen shortage finally took their toll and his vision blurred again as the darkness finally pulled him under. The hand holding Navi’s grew limp and fell back to his side.
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(for this RP: viewtopic.php?f=28&t=844959&p=21493931#p21493892)
Eztli glared for a moment at the sunlight she was standing in that prevented her from shadow-porting, then, as she took a step towards the shadow of a tree Cavan darted over and grabbed her wrist just before she vanished. She couldn’t ‘port with him holding onto her or she’d take him too, defeating the purpose of being alone. His voice was pleading as he quietly said her name, “Eztli, w--”
“Cavan,” she interrupted, her voice low, she didn’t turn, but continued to stare at the shadows of the tree.
Cavan flinched at the warning in her tone, but he didn’t let go as he stepped closer to her and said, “I won’t stop you, but please, at least let me redress your wounds.”
She turned just her head to look at him, her expression was hard, hiding any emotions she might be feeling, but after a moment her face softened and she nodded.
Cavan sighed with relief and released her. She stood still as he unwrapped the bandages around her right arm and left wrist, cleaned the wounds from the recent fight with Lamia, and then rewrapped them with clean gauze he pulled out of his back pocket. He looked at her as he finished and smirked, “Do you want to go--”
“Cavan,” Eztli looked at him with one of those “Seriously?” looks. Then she turned her back to him and removed her shirt, revealing to him and Kiah, a black sports bra and a back covered in old scars and bloody bandages.
Cavan shook his head but didn’t say anything as he begun to unwrap her back, eventually exposing a vicious-looking bite mark on her right shoulder and a multitude of deep slices running all over her back and sides, adding anew to the already old scars. There was a hiss at Cavan’s sharp intake of breath. Last time he’d seen the wounds it was dark and he’d just thrown the bandages on there as fast as he could to stop the bleeding while she’d been unconscious, but now, in the daylight, he saw the true depth of them. Most of the claw marks went to the bone and the few that didn’t had shredded her muscles. The bite mark on her shoulder would’ve rendered a human’s arm useless for the rest of their life, as it was he could tell it pained her every time it so much as twitched. “Oh, Eztli, I wish you would’ve let me look at this sooner. I--”
“Just bandage it, Cavan,” Eztli said as if it were no more than a couple of scratches.
Cavan sighed and shook his head, but did as he was told. He tried to close the gapping wounds as much as possible before binding them, but without more tools than some gauze, there wasn’t much he could do.
He finally finished and stepped back as she pulled her shirt back on. “Eztli,” he said softly, almost inaudible to anyone but her. She turned and looked at him, her blank expression had turned to one of pain and sorrow and Cavan frowned and took her hand in his. “You know I love you right?”
She looked at the ground saying, “Sometimes a brother’s love isn’t enough.”
Cavan grimaced and said softly, “Still, you have it, and that’s more than some can say.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. After a second she stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He smiled and wrapped his own arms around her, careful to not put pressure on her wounds.
After a moment she pulled away from him and looked up at him, “Sinka won’t let me die.”
“That won’t help me sleep at night,” he said bluntly.
She flinched and looked down again, “I’m so sorry, Cavan. You’ve done so much for me, and all I do is wear you out. I’m a horrible sister.”
“Nonsense,” Cavan said with a smile and, placing a finger under her chin, lifted her head up to look at him, “you’re the best sister I could hope for. You make me laugh, you make my life interesting, and if I hadn’t grown up with you I probably wouldn’t be able to be with Kiah. There’s no other girl I’d want as my sister.”
She smiled and nodded, “Thank you Cavan, and I love you too.”
She stepped away from him but he grabbed her hand once more and said with a smile, “Atra du sundavar ono varda."
Eztli laughed and shook her head, “You’re such a dork.” Cavan grinned and raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?”
“I’m not letting you go till you do. Atra du sundavar ono varda."
Eztli smiled and shook her head then replied, "Un du garjzla aldri blindr ono."
Satisfied Cavan released her and she stepped into the tree’s shadow and vanished. Cavan sighed, staring at the spot she’d been in before, not feeling very much like the superman Kiah claimed him to be.
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(for this RP: viewtopic.php?f=28&t=844959&p=21493931#p21493892)
(this is a short one, i know, but idc)
“You know, there was a time once, a time when I was totally happy, I was alone, but happy. I didn’t need anyone else, I was fine on my own. Sure I had friends, but no one special. But then, he came along, he was sad, and broken, and all I wanted to do was fix him, make him happy again.” She shook her head and looked away, staring at something only she could see. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t work, maybe because I knew him before and then seeing him like that I would forever be trying to get him back to the before state, which is probably not possible, and he knew that, somewhere deep down, I don’t know,” she shrugged and sighed. “I knew early off though that it wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t stop me from trying, or from loving him.” She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, rested her chin on them, and was quiet a while. Just when it seemed that she wasn’t going to keep talking she opened her mouth once more and more words started to slip out, “And then she came long and his smile reached his eyes for the first time in years, and I was happy for him. I immediately backed off, I’d rather him be truly happy with someone else than to be with me and his eyes always stay grey. But then she hurt him, she broke him again, shattered his heart, and it broke mine to see him like that. He didn’t deserve it, he’s had a hard enough life as it is and to add that to it, it’s just wrong.” She paused again and buried her face in her knees. This time the moment of silence didn’t last as long and anger colored the voice that had so far been just sad, “Then she caught him,” she said the pronoun with a snarl, pure hatred emanating from that one word, “and while I was risking my life to save his, he was going back to the one that had hurt him, the one that had killed his heart. And I know he’s happy again, I know he trusts her to never to it again, but I can’t. I will never be able to see her without thinking ‘here’s the one who hurt the man I love’ and I can’t help but think there’s always a chance she’ll do it again.”
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