Post by Lord Cyber on May 1, 2005 14:30:11 GMT -5
This one's a little darker than my standard fair gang...
He was sobbing loudly. His face was pressed up against the cold moist bricks of the dark alleyway. He kept saying things over and over again like, "why Lord...why me..."
Miriam was screaming at him to shut up...she was beyond reasoning with him that it was his choice to enter the preliminaries...but she was too afraid to move any closer to him...to see what was behind the trash and filth of the alleyway that blocked her vision of him.
The match was over...
Miriam had won...
Her opponent had run out of Furyoku...
...and the pool of dark blood stained everything it touched as it seeped out towards her, amongst the debris and cement. Her feet refused to move as the sticky red fluid touched the bottoms of her shoes and continued it's course of saturating the entire ground in red.
She was clutching her pocket mirror so tightly that the glass shattered in her palm.
**********
And here he was again, standing before her in the desert. It had been 3 months ago, but she remembered her first preliminary fight like it was yesterday.
She wanted to tell him she was sorry...
She wanted to tell him how the guilt of that night consumed her...about how she lacked finite control...about how easy it was to let go in the moment...
But she found that nothing would come out of her mouth.
Maxwell's arms were little more than ragged stumps.
The flesh had been torn asunder...but the spirit lived on. He was using his furyoku now to manifest his own spirit. They were ghostly, ethereal limbs saturated in a pale blue light...still clutching the throwing knives he had used that night so long ago.
His footsteps hit heavily against the soft ground as he ran at her. Ultimately, he would do to her what she had done to him.
Miriam pulled herself together just before the first blade came down. Pieces of her hair were the only thing severed as she countered with a sweeping kick.
Instinctively, her left hand pulled out her pocket mirror. Adrenaline was sweeping through her body and she almost called for her spirit...but Maxwell was still recovering from the ground while she had already moved back into a defensive stance.
He was slow at getting up...the two throwing daggers still clutched in those unnatural hands.
She could tell that he wasn't a fighter...he had no skill...no training...she could have easily killed him without any help from her guardian ghost.
"Miriam?"
Gabriel had called her. The rest of her group was returning...and that was enough to send Maxwell running back off into the desert.
She let him go and turned back towards the sounds of friends and companions, knowing well that her guilt would never go away and that she would not be forgotten.
#nosmileys
He was sobbing loudly. His face was pressed up against the cold moist bricks of the dark alleyway. He kept saying things over and over again like, "why Lord...why me..."
Miriam was screaming at him to shut up...she was beyond reasoning with him that it was his choice to enter the preliminaries...but she was too afraid to move any closer to him...to see what was behind the trash and filth of the alleyway that blocked her vision of him.
The match was over...
Miriam had won...
Her opponent had run out of Furyoku...
...and the pool of dark blood stained everything it touched as it seeped out towards her, amongst the debris and cement. Her feet refused to move as the sticky red fluid touched the bottoms of her shoes and continued it's course of saturating the entire ground in red.
She was clutching her pocket mirror so tightly that the glass shattered in her palm.
**********
And here he was again, standing before her in the desert. It had been 3 months ago, but she remembered her first preliminary fight like it was yesterday.
She wanted to tell him she was sorry...
She wanted to tell him how the guilt of that night consumed her...about how she lacked finite control...about how easy it was to let go in the moment...
But she found that nothing would come out of her mouth.
Maxwell's arms were little more than ragged stumps.
The flesh had been torn asunder...but the spirit lived on. He was using his furyoku now to manifest his own spirit. They were ghostly, ethereal limbs saturated in a pale blue light...still clutching the throwing knives he had used that night so long ago.
His footsteps hit heavily against the soft ground as he ran at her. Ultimately, he would do to her what she had done to him.
Miriam pulled herself together just before the first blade came down. Pieces of her hair were the only thing severed as she countered with a sweeping kick.
Instinctively, her left hand pulled out her pocket mirror. Adrenaline was sweeping through her body and she almost called for her spirit...but Maxwell was still recovering from the ground while she had already moved back into a defensive stance.
He was slow at getting up...the two throwing daggers still clutched in those unnatural hands.
She could tell that he wasn't a fighter...he had no skill...no training...she could have easily killed him without any help from her guardian ghost.
"Miriam?"
Gabriel had called her. The rest of her group was returning...and that was enough to send Maxwell running back off into the desert.
She let him go and turned back towards the sounds of friends and companions, knowing well that her guilt would never go away and that she would not be forgotten.
#nosmileys
