Bandit Raid [Hilde, Argon, Naitome, Frozen]
Nov 21, 2015 13:15:15 GMT -8
Post by Haru on Nov 21, 2015 13:15:15 GMT -8
Wolf and sparrow, an admixture of frost and warmth, incised their way through broken lands, beneath eyes and ears, beyond thought. They were we as we made our way, making in a way unsensed and unincensed. But that would change. It already had, in truth. Smoke ran across the horizon, noise following in its wake, attesting to some unruly happening in some place distant. I could intuit a shift in the atmosphere, a fall from tranquility into the abyss. Curious eyes met hers, Ayma, who by now had traipsed past for a closer look before turning her head back toward me. My lips made a pale line; my shoulders rose in shrugging uncertainty. It could have been a mere quotidian affair—a house fire, a domestic dispute, anything—but the echoes relaying screams through our company spoke of some terror that belied such an easy reading.
“They will be here before long,” the girl warned, “if it doesn't quiet soon, things may get dangerous.”
There was silence.
“Inu..? Inu, we hav—”
“Okay. We will.”
I let out a sigh, gathering myself. In seconds, a walk of innocuity had become a walk toward death. Life.
“Let’s silence them.”
And then we were away. A sparse sequence of moments and the threadbare settlement lay before two figures, both our eyes peering and our minds nowhere else. The screaming disguised our still-furtive movements, and made actual our premonitions. Cries rang from the depths of their being, subverting the Symbolic for the Real in its pure, undifferentiated chaos. The repetitive, foreboding clangor of what sounded like metal colliding with structures of lesser atomic density dissonated and disharmonized, complementing chilling scenes. I was only a selective choice of steps. I slithered beneath shadows, opening my spirit to the force of the dreadful ambience. My cohort fled in the opposite direction, attuned to the setting the same. The space between my motioning displaced itself gradually, negatively. I began to hurry. While this mist-filled land afforded its inhabitants a guarantee of sound’s ineffectuality in traversing long distances, these beings who stalked us and who we in turn stalked could never be held accountable to the constancies of nature. When we estimated them in the way we estimated one another, we died. They were something else. Or thus it seemed, with recourse solely to what of their kind I’d experienced. Regardless, the movement of time, or its acknowledgement, rather, was the only linchpin through which my own movements could be made sensible, as I pressed myself against the side of a building nearby and motioned to the rhythm of the arrows’ thudding.
The situation gave itself to understanding as I surreptitiously maneuvered about. They were mere outlaws, it appeared. An impetuous, rotten pack of animals merely seeking an obedient meal; and now, they would confront the meal of a lifetime. I would slaughter them just like the livestock they sought. And devour them whole. My teeth clicked in anticipation, and force began to pulsate within my form. And it was then that I struck. One appeared as I rounded the corner, opening myself to a concourse abraded by ammunition. He only had time to look before bone met bone. My blade, a deathly beauty of pure white, composed of wyvern-bone, hilt-and-all, slid through his heart and out the other end, appearing there a length of alabaster and liquid crimson before returning through his limpness. I noticed a woman as he fell in front of me. She sat behind a wall, her seeming lack of fear catching my attention and communicating something mutual. A shinobi? I watched her, looking to make my next move as I remained vigilant and lightly shaded. Death was alive in the air.