The white noise had gone suddenly to electric, blinding energy. This was no high, he could only think, this is pain.
And it had happened before.
More flashes, and it had been forever since the last of them.
--------------------------------------------
Tunnels, familiar ones. He'd seen them before, below the city, rising too fast to break the surface with explosive, devastating force.
Something that should not be free.
Claws, heavily muscled arms with bands of dark, blooded ink
Noxious fluids and clouds, every putrid yellow, red, green and black pouring, swirling and swelling around and from every movement.
Gnashing of so many teeth, wailing- but not wails of pain. There was no emotion to accompany these screams. Rage, Hatred, Excitement, Determination, Joy... pure bestial roars.
The war cry of Legion.
They were coming, and with their leader in the midst, they had reached the surface, and he could see them, almost free...
--------------------------------------------
But that was to come. He blinked free of the flashing, lancing vision, unsure why it was coming back to him now, showing what he had already seen years ago and never since. The beginning of the end of the world. Of his life. The start of the real fight, the last use of his sanity to help save the world. The fall of cities, of civilization.
Not for Good.
Not to fight Evil.
But just to save the people. Who had no reason to be caught up in the middle.
Those who were caught up in the crossfire, between the Black and the White. Those in the Grey.
Because nobody else would be helping them. Nobody else could.
And if this was all starting soon, if these visions had a reason to be starting again, in so vivid and core-shaking detail..
He was fucked.
Because he wasn't ready yet.
He still had questions, and still didn't understand how to use his own body, or how to save anyone, including himself.
Please let there be answers.
Please let there be more time.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Flow
This was just another one of his low lows, he kept reminding himself.. the pain was superficial, and it was more than likely he would remember none of it in a month's time... But that did not change its pull on the present, and the fact that it was carving holes in his daily life. Without the motivation to begin each day anew, he woke each morning- or afternoon, as was usually the case- with the same dread and aimless longing that had kept him from sleep the night prior.
That nothing helped was nothing new, and hope was a double edged blade, giving him one thing in life to hold his life to the world, and giving his thoughts- and the Jester's words- a target.
He couldn't be sure the thought was his, but the question remained-
"How does one find the energy to continue to live in a world that has so little to offer?"
That nothing helped was nothing new, and hope was a double edged blade, giving him one thing in life to hold his life to the world, and giving his thoughts- and the Jester's words- a target.
He couldn't be sure the thought was his, but the question remained-
"How does one find the energy to continue to live in a world that has so little to offer?"
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Grey
It wasn't as if he wasn't trying.
He'd made his share of appearances for society's sake, not disliking his time spent among others, but never quite losing the feeling that it was all, on some level, just an act on his part. To make matters worse, the empathy that allowed him to pick up on even the most subtle feelings from those around him seemed to be broadcasting his own uneasiness.
As his loneliness deepened, the claws and teeth of his personality grew longer, sharper. So much so, that recently when he tried to mingle to banish those very feelings, he was more and more in danger of revealing his temper letting loose a snarl that would have potential companions backing away in fear. And fear could only add to his resentment.
What he longed for was someone who wouldn't fear him, because she understood the shadows in his eyes stood for. Someone who danced along the same edges of darkness that he did, and did not view the path as veraciously evil. He was so tired of the women who fancied themselves princesses, or had simply reserved themselves to the lives of peasants. Perhaps, he thought, since he was a warrior of sorts himself, he would need a woman who was a fighter at heart.
And he was starting to wonder if such a creature even existed.
He'd made his share of appearances for society's sake, not disliking his time spent among others, but never quite losing the feeling that it was all, on some level, just an act on his part. To make matters worse, the empathy that allowed him to pick up on even the most subtle feelings from those around him seemed to be broadcasting his own uneasiness.
As his loneliness deepened, the claws and teeth of his personality grew longer, sharper. So much so, that recently when he tried to mingle to banish those very feelings, he was more and more in danger of revealing his temper letting loose a snarl that would have potential companions backing away in fear. And fear could only add to his resentment.
What he longed for was someone who wouldn't fear him, because she understood the shadows in his eyes stood for. Someone who danced along the same edges of darkness that he did, and did not view the path as veraciously evil. He was so tired of the women who fancied themselves princesses, or had simply reserved themselves to the lives of peasants. Perhaps, he thought, since he was a warrior of sorts himself, he would need a woman who was a fighter at heart.
And he was starting to wonder if such a creature even existed.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Choice
He ran the stone down along the blade of his sword, narrowing his eyes on the edge he made with each pass. The scraping was doing its part to keep him focused on the idle task. It was just barely enough to keep his mind off of anything and everything that had sharpened his mood more than the blade.
He hadn't heard the door open, but the Jester was in the room with him now.
Face masked by the strange cloak he always seemed to wear, his head tilted oddly to one side, and he purred, "I see you had fun in town the other day."
The Knight felt, rather than saw the wicked grin that was pointed his way, and only offered a grunt in response.
"I guess that explains your mood now. I won't even bother asking."
"You never do." At least his reply had included words this time.
The Jester laughed. "Yes, well maybe you're just a little too predictable after all these years. You hold on way too tightly to hope."
The Knight sighed, and decided he wouldn't even grace that comment with an answer. He didn't have the energy to fight right now.
As he reached for the door to leave once again, the Jester paused, turning back. "So what will you do now?"
The Knight paused, using the back of his hand to wipe the gathering sweat from his brow, and turned to focus cold, determined eyes on the hooded oddity at his door. "What else can I do? Try harder, and keep trying until something happens." The last part of that sentence hung in the air and he tried not wince. It had sounded grim, even to his ears.
The Jester hadn't said anything, and strangely enough, didn't even smile- on the contrary, he looked stunned for a moment before turning back to walk out the door.
The Knight closed his eyes, setting aside his weapon and tools, and exhaling slowly, trying to calm his heart and nerves. "A candle in the breeze either flickers and gets brighter, or just goes out. That's the choice I'll have to make."
He hadn't heard the door open, but the Jester was in the room with him now.
Face masked by the strange cloak he always seemed to wear, his head tilted oddly to one side, and he purred, "I see you had fun in town the other day."
The Knight felt, rather than saw the wicked grin that was pointed his way, and only offered a grunt in response.
"I guess that explains your mood now. I won't even bother asking."
"You never do." At least his reply had included words this time.
The Jester laughed. "Yes, well maybe you're just a little too predictable after all these years. You hold on way too tightly to hope."
The Knight sighed, and decided he wouldn't even grace that comment with an answer. He didn't have the energy to fight right now.
As he reached for the door to leave once again, the Jester paused, turning back. "So what will you do now?"
The Knight paused, using the back of his hand to wipe the gathering sweat from his brow, and turned to focus cold, determined eyes on the hooded oddity at his door. "What else can I do? Try harder, and keep trying until something happens." The last part of that sentence hung in the air and he tried not wince. It had sounded grim, even to his ears.
The Jester hadn't said anything, and strangely enough, didn't even smile- on the contrary, he looked stunned for a moment before turning back to walk out the door.
The Knight closed his eyes, setting aside his weapon and tools, and exhaling slowly, trying to calm his heart and nerves. "A candle in the breeze either flickers and gets brighter, or just goes out. That's the choice I'll have to make."
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A Shot in the Dark
The Knight screamed, and suddenly found himself standing, feet planted securely on the ground.
Moments before, he had been in a free fall, sailing down through the darkness with only his sword, his armor, and his wits, and no way of knowing when or if the pit that had opened up to swallow him would ever end.
And it was aware.
The darkness had moved around him, swirling, brushing against his body with a mind of it's own. The only thing that had kept the panic contained where it tried to claw its way out of his stomach was the feeling that he had something to do. And so, without knowing if she would hear, if his message would reach anyone at all, he did what he had gone there to do.
He screamed her name.
* * *
It had felt like a dream, but he couldn't be sure. Someone stepped up to his side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. There was no emotion to the gesture; It was simply an offer to help stabilize him, now that the visions had stopped. Though their eyes met, the Jester, ever his unbidden companion, had nothing to say. Where he had just been, they both knew, his compatriot could not follow. He could only stand by and simply watch.
Later as the Knight lay back down to rest, stripping his silvered armor to stand bare, he felt... bitter. The loneliness he felt inside would have less of a bite if he could just get some answers.
To say he was lost lately was perhaps an understatement. Because his sword was not needed, he had no place either. And yet he had stayed, telling himself each day that it would only be a little longer.
The townspeople did their best to make him feel wanted and at home, and while he didn't brush off their kindness, neither did he feel compelled or content to stay. They were good enough people, but to settle down among them would feel a little too much like pretending, like losing a vital piece of himself.
He tried not to let himself think on it too much, but every now and again he caught himself wondering if his sword and skill would ever again be needed at all. Things were peaceful now, and he should have felt thankful.
And yet every so often a sense of foreboding would lance his senses, like a terrible warning of something closing in from a distance, insisting he needed to be ready.
It had been so long since he had heard from anyone that may be able to understand or explain what he was feeling that he was unsure of what should be his next steps to take. When he tried to hold onto hope, with it came soft whispers of other emotions, unwelcomed. Like those connected to the Dark Princess.
He didn't want to think about it. He tried not to. It always came back to her.
Sleep was settling in, and he was grateful. Pulling the leash from his mind, it wandered into nostalgia, showing him faces of old friends, taking him back to when he first started preparing for a battle that had never quite come...
Moments before, he had been in a free fall, sailing down through the darkness with only his sword, his armor, and his wits, and no way of knowing when or if the pit that had opened up to swallow him would ever end.
And it was aware.
The darkness had moved around him, swirling, brushing against his body with a mind of it's own. The only thing that had kept the panic contained where it tried to claw its way out of his stomach was the feeling that he had something to do. And so, without knowing if she would hear, if his message would reach anyone at all, he did what he had gone there to do.
He screamed her name.
* * *
It had felt like a dream, but he couldn't be sure. Someone stepped up to his side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. There was no emotion to the gesture; It was simply an offer to help stabilize him, now that the visions had stopped. Though their eyes met, the Jester, ever his unbidden companion, had nothing to say. Where he had just been, they both knew, his compatriot could not follow. He could only stand by and simply watch.
Later as the Knight lay back down to rest, stripping his silvered armor to stand bare, he felt... bitter. The loneliness he felt inside would have less of a bite if he could just get some answers.
To say he was lost lately was perhaps an understatement. Because his sword was not needed, he had no place either. And yet he had stayed, telling himself each day that it would only be a little longer.
The townspeople did their best to make him feel wanted and at home, and while he didn't brush off their kindness, neither did he feel compelled or content to stay. They were good enough people, but to settle down among them would feel a little too much like pretending, like losing a vital piece of himself.
He tried not to let himself think on it too much, but every now and again he caught himself wondering if his sword and skill would ever again be needed at all. Things were peaceful now, and he should have felt thankful.
And yet every so often a sense of foreboding would lance his senses, like a terrible warning of something closing in from a distance, insisting he needed to be ready.
It had been so long since he had heard from anyone that may be able to understand or explain what he was feeling that he was unsure of what should be his next steps to take. When he tried to hold onto hope, with it came soft whispers of other emotions, unwelcomed. Like those connected to the Dark Princess.
He didn't want to think about it. He tried not to. It always came back to her.
Sleep was settling in, and he was grateful. Pulling the leash from his mind, it wandered into nostalgia, showing him faces of old friends, taking him back to when he first started preparing for a battle that had never quite come...
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