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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
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Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Feb 21, 2016 2:15:17 GMT
Aurora swept her way into the empty place, a hollow moon hanging lowly in the cloudstrewn sky. The stars above were half-obscured by all the cirrus forms about, wispy ghosts of weather's faded glory, diffusing the lackluster glow about on the shadowtorn grounds. There was no wind. There were no sounds. Not uncommon for such a chilly eve, but still unnerving nonetheless. The Justicar wrapped her cloak about her shoulders and pulled helplessly at her hood. It did little to stall the oppressive, sinking cold that seemed to have no justifiable source outside of superstition.
An arena. This was an arena. At least, that's the best the girl could make out, even with her aural vision. Rows upon rows of seats, an open, sprawling center field, the faint remains of blood and dirt and scuffle spread helter-kelter. It was wholly unshocking to find an arena in a land of heathens. As much as Aurora knew, they might send children in here to beat each other senseless, or maybe pit criminals against beasts as a form of punishment. That's the sort of thing godless savages did, after all.
A noise alerted the justicar to another's presence, which surprised her; usually aura was the first flag. She spun on foot, Penance unfurling from her wrist to its full length, held at a slant before her in both hands.
"Who's there? Are you here to try and kill me?"
Funny, how that was the girl's first thought.
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Fang
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October 2015
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Post by Fang on Feb 22, 2016 7:11:07 GMT
It had been a restless night from its inception, and Wake could no longer stand casting about for sleep when it was so intent to elude him. He walked the streets of Etirath alone, the large, baggy shirt and wide breeches loaned to him while his own clothing dried making soft swishes with there step. A fountain gurgled nearby, and without paying attention Wake followed its mutterings and found himself staring at a distorted image of himself, the green of the shirt was muted and stained, and the colors of his skin and hair illuminated by the low slung moon between the clouds merged with that green in dizzying patterns while the fountain played its tune.
Wake chuckled and turned away from the fountain with a sigh. He didn't like being so melancholy, but the night seemed to bring him more of that wretched cynicism than he knew he possessed. From a pocket of the pants he produced a small apple, and as he mindlessly wandered he slowly chewed each piece he bit away.
It was that Justicar that had put him into such a dismal state. Remembering the past with her order always set him on edge, and her appearance proved beyond a doubt that he had indeed spat in the face of a large establishment, intentional or otherwise. Viscously he took another bite of the apple and looked up, amazed to find that he had wandered toward one of the largest structures he had ever seen. Massive stone walls encircled... something that Wake could not see from outside them. Gates larger than those of the Temple of the Fist stood open to the empty street.
Without hesitation Wake followed his suddenly flowering curiosity, walking through the gates with a smile on his face despite the worries he held mere seconds ago. The tunnel was long, longer than he would have expected by judging from outside, and every few feet it would slope upwards. After several minutes of walking Wake was finally deposited several stories above a sandy pit, among the thousands of benches that he now saw traversed the inside of the wall.
The moon cast a single, glittering ray of its full brilliance to the center of the arena, it's fragile light illuminating a woman who reflected it nearly as well as did its source. Wake leaned over the bench in front of him, straining to make out the figure of the woman with an eager look his eye. She had not noticed him, but with her back to him he could not make out who she was nor what she truly looked like. He leaned a little further, a spark of recognition shining bright.
It was the Justicar!
He lost his balance in that startling moment of realization, and unfortunately he tumbled down several rows of pews before finally falling a dozen or more feet down to the sand below. A whoosh of air escaped his lungs as he hit the ground, dust billowing up around him as he took a few seconds to catch his breath.
"Who's there? Are you here to try to kill me?"
Wake chuckled as he got to his feet and the wind blew the dust he had disturbed away. He patted his pants and stretched backwards with his hands on hips before answering, a loud crack preceding his words.
"Now why would anyone want to kill a Justicar from Harbor; especially one who is so blessed to have been given a Stigmata?" His voice was accusatory, an unspoken question underlying the one he voiced. The last time they had spoken he was still out of sorts, and few words were exchanged. This certainly seemed the best opportunity to have a proper conversation.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Mar 15, 2016 18:20:36 GMT
Whatever the martial artist's intentions might have been, good, vile, or plainly neutral, Aurora already had notions forming in her mind. That was a part of who she was; even as a child, she formed her opinions with a form of deathly certainty that might certainly spell her death... or at least get her into a fair share of trouble. It was a trait that made her invaluable to the dogmatic ranks of Harbor, but nary in endearing herself to those outside of her trusted circle. To be honest, it made her come across as a bit of an ass.
"Now why would anyone want to kill a Justicar from Harbor; especially one who is so blessed to have been given a Stigmata?"
"You would do best to heed my words, fighter," Aurora warned, for it was indeed the fighter from before. She could almost taste the waves of color coming off of him, the suspicious resonance of the one she had decided must be a criminal. How else would he know of Harbor, and of the Justicar order? And it seemed he regained command of his vocabulary, because he now correctly and astutely pointed out her Stigmata. Aye, it was a blessing, but from his deviant mouth it seemed an insult to say it. Almost like he was mocking her. That was certainly it! He was mocking her, egging her on, trying to provoke her into a senseless fight. The ignorant ass. She was a Justicar, not some lowly Novice. She would not be provoked.
"I am indeed a Justicar, ordained and raised in my order to defy the forces of evil," the angelic being continued, "trained in ancient arts that far exceed the power of the common man. Tell me this; do you really wish to challenge me? Do you really seek a fight? I will not shed blood without reason, but my mind believes your past bears reason enough, fugitive. You are a fugitive, do not deny it. I know it. Now, confess to your crimes, so I may give you a speedy and just punishment."
The girl was almost shaking, both from the thrill of the power rush and a rising anxious tension. This was her first encounter, her first field tribunal with her blade as the sole judge. The pressure to perform with prime ability, to mirror the lessons and ideals she had learned, was quite strong in her perfectionist mind. She will not fail this.
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Fang
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October 2015
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Post by Fang on Jul 19, 2016 20:10:52 GMT
Wake could not repress the resentment he had held in wait from that fateful encounter years ago. He had seen injustice done in the name of Harbor, and though he had eliminated those who were responsible he still felt that the entire order should be held accountable. Despite the beauty the blind girl possessed he was no longer attracted. It wasn't the horror of her eyes, but the horror of her beliefs, which he felt did not need to be inquired after. Wake's fists clenched as she spoke, demanding to know his crimes and allow her to enact her twisted justice.
"I have only committed a single sin," he said in a voice trembling with rage." That sin was allowing you and your ilk to continue roaming the world after the evils I have seen you commit."
Wake wasted no time, his energy within fueled by the red wash of rage. He needed no time to concentrate, spent no precious moments gathering his strength. With the barest movement he flicked a single shot of concentrated energy toward the Justicar, following behind the small concussion in a flurry of motion, his legs taking him across the distance in a split second. He had to avoid that massive blade, and he knew that being unarmed was putting him at a severe disadvantage. The girl was lighter, and though the weapon appeared heavy Wake instinctively knew that Aurora could wield it as if it were no heavier than a switch.
In the last foot before he reached the young woman, indeed before even his energy had reached her, Wake slid, under his energy and to the girl's right. The result of his motion was such that the energy had sent reached her at the same time that he did. With any luck the girl would need to deflect the concussion with her blade, leaving Wake to attack er from behind. Though it wasn't the most honorable tactic, it was prudent, and honor did not factor into a fight fueled by anger.
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