|
|
Post by Reverie Fuyuhana on Feb 11, 2010 8:45:14 GMT -5
 It was late in the dead of night – eleven p.m., to be exact. The stars were not shy today, out glistening in the night sky, twinkling and showing off their minute but powerful lights. Alone it would not be sufficient, but together, they dominated the heavens with their numbers, which reached millions, if not more. No one could ever truly master their population, even the wisest of Seelie would go as far to say “infinite amount”, and not much else. There was still no clear indication, but what one did know was that they were innumerable presences, like gods watching over both the mortal realm, and the magical realm. Together with them was the moon itself, a crisp circle of light that served as the mother of night. Although she served to accompany the stars in their nightly plights, she also functioned as a beacon of hope and light in the still darkness. She reminded everyone that, despite how dire the situation was, there was always a way out, and one needed to do nothing more than look up and ask her for guidance. Or that was how some magical beings saw it; that was how the pink-haired girl saw it.
She was travelling at this late hour of her own accord. She’d seen fit to move around and return to the mortal realm, rather than being stuck in Vildia. She’d had her daily magic “class”, a few quick lessons on how to cast spells, where to concentrate your mana in said spells, and so on and so forth. It was all in all a tedious lecture, one that had been taught to them for who knows how long. Still, she did rather well – not top marks, but average. It was quite sad, come to think of it. Being a summoner meant that the Magi in question had to be strong, had to be quick, and had to be able to come to terms with magic easily. Sure, she learned quickly, but sometimes, it just didn’t work out for her. It was at that realization that she’d learned the true burdens of being a summoner, and how pathetic she must be compared to the others. And because she didn’t exactly feel like shoving herself in a corner over this, she’d travelled to the mortal world for some peace, for some sense of normalcy that, for some reason, Vildia could never give her, although it was where she had been birthed.
Soft, almost inaudible footsteps trailed her, and Reverie looked up. It was her spirit, the Assassin. Her name was Nehayat, but in order to protect her identity, they’d agreed on the name “Sabra”, instead. Ever since being summoned, the woman had never left Reverie’s side, as was her duty to protect the human. She was a strong, somewhat independent spirit, and Reverie respected that, allowing her to go on some trips by her lonesome (as long as she didn’t stray too far, of course, as the spirits were the summoners main physical prowess). As was usual, Sabra was at her side, quiet as usual, never having been much of a talker. At once, she felt a surge of pity and dismay; would she really be good enough for both of them? What if she would fail?
“Say, Sabra”, Reverie started shyly, not stopping her slow pace. “Am I really going to be good enough for this war? I don’t want to fail you and fail myself. I just feel...” She sighed, unable to continue her sentence. Hopefully, her spirit would be able to offer her some words of wisdom, words that she desperately needed to hear right now.
A slight tingling in her gut startled Reverie, much like a static shock when touching a doorknob after having rubbed one’s feet on the carpet. It wasn’t painful, merely foreboding. An inner sense that told her something was off – something was up. But what could possibly give her such a feeling? If not human, then it had to be one of her kind, a magical being. Although it was friend or foe, she could not tell. It was important then, not to let down her guard.
Without breaking her pace, neither slowing down nor speeding up, Reverie kept her head up, her eyes scanning the area as she tried to discern what this “feeling” was about. To her spirit, she merely said, “Sabra, be wary. Something’s coming.”
[/size][/font][/color] ooc: posting order, myself, Eif, then Tsu~ |
|
Yuril Artwaltz
Magi
Littlewood?s Law[M:0]
i'm sipping on some sunshine
Posts: 13
|
Post by Yuril Artwaltz on Feb 11, 2010 14:33:44 GMT -5
Danger is a bit of a drug.
There’s something in the way danger presents itself, a rush incomparable to anything else. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, heightening every sense, and making every movement pure art and exhilaration. The sound of your heart, beating strong and true in your chest, the constant drumbeat that sets the tempo for your exhibits. The utterly invincible feeling that grips you, that which makes one laugh in the face of the overwhelming, the fearful, and the uncontrollable. Yes, danger is a bit of a drug, one which Yuril found himself in the thrall of as he zipped in between tree trunks with expert timing and precision.
Moonlight shone through the foliage above, illuminating all beneath in a pale white light which played across Yuril’s smiling face. He sat easily, leaning forewords as if to meet the trees before him head on, his staff gripped tightly in his hands beneath him. Despite the speed he was flying at, he seemed completely relaxed, as if he’d done all this before. Indeed he had, many times, not just in the forests of Shiretoko, but in places all over the world, both in the mortal and magical realms. It was a test of skill, a chance to push his limits as an Aeromancer, a challenge he took on with great relish. Every tree he passed was another obstacle overcome; every near miss as he barely skimmed past a trunk (so close he could make out the every detail of the bark, and feel it scrape against his coat) was a success. Yuril was in his element here, quite literally. The wind rushed all around, pushing past him, and propelling him foreword at ever faster speeds. Never would anyone feel as alive as him, except by being as close to death as he was at any one moment.
Rounding yet another tree, Yuril allowed his mana to pour out into the air around him. In response the wand he was riding shot forward at an incredible speed, the wind sounding like a tornado in his ears at it pushed past him. He was blur now, a white flash flitting back and forth through the underbrush. Branches whipped past him, battering at his coat as though trying to push him off his staff. At the speed he was going at if he were to hit a tree it would probably kill him instantly, or at least shatter a good portion of the bones in his body. It wasn’t a very pretty thought, and so Yuril didn’t permit himself to have it. Instead he concentrated only on what was ahead of him, pouring all his effort into manipulating the wind and prevent himself from dying a horribly painful death.
In the end it was that concentration and a combination of adrenaline fueled reflexes and experience that ended up saving both him and his unfortunate victim from what would have been a much worse incident. Bursting through the foliage of a tree, Yuril was suddenly confronted with something he’d been entirely unprepared for. Another human being. Time seemed to slow down in that moment, allowing Yuril to take in all the details. Before him was a girl, a person who shouldn’t be there but was. At the speed he was going, he’d end up impaling her on the end of his staff, which would be very much a not good thing. Because of the trees, he didn’t have enough room to maneuver around her, and even if he were to pour all his mana into reversing his direction, it wouldn’t be fast enough to stop him from hitting her. As the moment came to an end, Yuril made a decision. Leaning foreword, he pushed down with all his strength, digging the tip of his wand into the ground, stopping it dead. Unfortunately, due to Newton’s laws of motion, Yuril did not stop. Consequently even as his staff came to a stop, Yuril continued foreword, straight into the girl.
The impact was hard, hard enough to knock the girl off her feet and backwards propelled by Yuril’s motion. Instinctively Yuril wrapped his arms around the girl, cradling her against his body in an attempt to lessen whatever damage was done. The next thing Yuril knew, the world was spinning violently around them as they crashed through the underbrush. A few seconds later the spinning stopped, leaving Yuril and the girl tangled together on the ground.
Then there was silence. At least until Yuril felt the need to mutter a single word. “Ow.” |
|
|
|
Post by Nehayat Vakili on Feb 11, 2010 20:19:38 GMT -5
 --- i've seen angels fall from blinding heights ,.[/color][/size][/font] ( BUT YOU YOURSELF ARE NOTHING SO DIVINE )[/center] Nights such as this almost put Nehayat at ease. The lack of background noise made it simpler for the Assassin to monitor the surrounding environment and keep an eye on her Summoner, Reverie. Reverie was still quite an engima to Nehayat. The girl seemed at unease with the notion of the Holy Grail War, with the idea of having to fight against other Summoners and their Heroic Spirits. Nehayat could not share her plight. Even in life the Assassin had relished the fight, the joy of success that came with a successful kill. And even though she was weaker at close-combat there was still a sort of happiness to be found in melee battle. Nehayat would do her duty as a Spirit; the weak opposing Masters would be her first target, and she would battle their Spirits if unable to kill the Summoner. And she would enjoy it. Reverie was of a different matter, but if Nehayat did her job properly, hopefully the girl would never have to engage in direct combat.
Speaking of which...Nehayat had trailed Reverie to her magical classes, in Spirit form of course. Watching the mage students struggle had taken the edge off her boredom, but throughout the classes she had studied her Reverie most carefully. The girl was studious, but not a genius. Nehayat approved. Too often the naturally gifted were caught up in their own talent, and became weak. It was better to work for a goal and establish yourself by increments. That was how Nehayat had improved. But the classes had barely ended before Reverie rushed from the room. And now they were going to the mortal realm. Nehayat was uneasy about that. She would rather have waited in the shadows, monitoring the other Summoners, letting them weaken and kill each other off. Such was her nature; she hated to force her hand or expose herself with unnecessary reason. But she would follow Reverie's commands.
Even as she trailed off in her musings, her Summoner spoke. Nehayat blinked in suprise as the girl kept walking, though her voice was worried. Worried that she wasn't good enough? Low self-esteem was troubling in a warrior; it made for hestitation in battle. Nehayat had never been very good at comforting people though she would give this her best shot. “It is true that your personality isn't very suited for battle,” the Assassin admitted. “You tend to care too much about other people, and from what you've told me of yourself, you seem unwilling to resort to violence except as a last resort. However, your ability to manipulate light is unqiue and powerful. I've never seen magic like yours; in fights your enemy will be taken unaware and thrown off balance. But besides that, hopefully you will never have to engage the opposing Spirits and Summoners. That is my job. I will do my best to take out the Master without you ever needing to dirty your hands.” Nehayat sighed and clenched her fists. This was difficult. “Besides you were the one who said that “fate” has called us together. If this was against the will of the world, you never would have had the ability to become a Summoner. But you do, and that must mean something.”
Nehayat had barely finished speaking when Reverie declared the warning. The Assassin didn't slip out of Spirit mode, but raised her head; someone was coming. She checked her daggers: two in her boots, four in leg sheaths, two at her waist, four hidden in her sleeves and one just below her neck. All accounted for then. Easing her short sword out of the sheath, Nehayat tilted her head. There was a sound, like a rustling. Someone moving towards them...or just the wind?
Both her guesses were correct, apparently. A man on...what was he on? No matter, that wasn't important flew towards them wildly. At the last moment, whatever he was riding dug into the ground and stopped half a foot from Reverie's face. The man himself wasn't as lucky and collided with the girl. The two bodies flew backwards, the man wrapping his arms around Reverie. As the two disappeared into the foliage, Nehayat snarled and flung herself after them, still insubstanial. She found the two of them on the ground, entangled, the man moaning something that sounded like a whimper of a pain. Nehayat seized up the situation; the opponent was far too close to Reverie for the girl to defend herself without also being placed in danger. The perfect attack.
Sliding into her physical form, Nehayat made her move. The man was ripped from his place ontop Reverie, the Assassin's hand gripping his collar as she pushed her Summoner behind her, making sure that her own body was a shield for the girl against any magic or hidden weapon the man might have. Pushing the strange man against a tree, Nehayat dropped her grip on his collar, though her knee hovered dangerously close to his groin. Unfair? Perhaps, but you had to play to your enemies weaknesses. The Spirit pressed the tip of her sword agaisnt the man's neck, careful not to draw blood, and placed her other hand on the tree beside his head. “Who sent you?” she asked, her tone dangerously cold. “And what do you know of us?” He had better have some good answers, for his own sake.
[/size][/font] |
|
|
|
Post by Reverie Fuyuhana on Feb 12, 2010 11:37:02 GMT -5
“Ow.”
It was the first word that left the young girl’s mouth, accompanied by a low groan that served to evaporate all the pain in her body. And her first thought: What just happened?
Although it was nice to know that her feeling of foreboding had not given way to mere suspicion, Reverie had not expected the subject in question to be so... abrupt. One moment, she’d heard naught but a slight rustling in the trees, and the next, she’d seen nothing but a blur of white, fluff, and blonde hair. In that split second reaction, it was unmistakeably a person that had hit her, colliding into her with such force and speed that her brain hadn’t had enough time to formulate the reflex of dodging and just getting out of the way. A look of surprise flitted across her face, and that was it. The next thing she knew, her body was being thrown in complete disarray, rolling and tumbling on the not-so-comfortable ground, causing dust to fly everywhere. Her sense of up and down was lost, and all that she could see were streaks of green and black, accompanied by the stranger’s own blonde and white. All in all, it was very disorienting, to say the least.
Within what seemed like an eternity, the rolling had finally stopped, and she’d had sense of where the ground was once more. Her cry of pain echoed the stranger’s, her body throbbing from both the adrenaline and pain it had most likely caused for both of them. She had landed on her back, sprawled diagonally with the stranger’s hands around her. A high-pitched “eep!” escaped her lips as she tried to untangle herself, but all in a futile attempt. It led her to wonder what the stranger was doing: was he protecting her, or was did he have something entirely different in mind? All good questions, but nothing in the light of what had just happened. Before she could even once more attempt to remove the stranger from her torso, he was already off, flying elsewhere and into a tree.
Well, not so much as flying as being lifted by the collar and slammed into a trunk. Reverie rubbed her head and stood up, still shaky from the “flight”, groaning. She was more than relieved to have the burden lifted off of her, and found that she could breathe once more. Flitting her eyes open, she came to the slow realization that she had landed quite a few feet from where she originally was, thanks to... whoever had hit her. Speaking of which, where did the person go?
It took her eyes a while to make sense of it all; having one’s brain mixed and jumbled around wasn’t one of the many pleasant things Reverie would recommend. After a few slow seconds, cerulean eyes traced the greenery around, made black by the lack of light in the sky. It didn’t take much to find the white outline of the stranger, held up against a tree by the – and much to her surprise – solidified Sabra. All Reverie could hear from Sabra’s mouth were questions, valid ones that she herself died to know, although she would have gone about it in a more civilized route. Either way, she took this time to study the person who had hit her, since it had been too much of a ride for her to note the stranger’s features.
It was a male, clad in white and dressed extraordinarily... fluffy. There was really no other word for it. He had blonde hair cascading from his head, just barely reaching his eyes as they parted towards his ears. His blue eyes were something to be marvelled, matching Reverie’s own cerulean ones, but with just a different tint to it. And all good five or some feet of him was currently being latched on to a tree by Sabra, an unmistakeable defence mechanism and a look of pure fury on her face. Ahhh, this was not good, not good at all.
Slightly panicking now, Reverie jumped up from her spot on the floor, and was rewarded with a wave of nausea as the earth tilted around her. She struggled to get herself upright, and when she had, she wished she never did. But that didn’t matter; now wasn’t the time for relaxation and frivolities. Knowing Sabra’s nature – which she sort of did – things would not end very well for the man if he didn’t satisfy her questions. True, she was also itching for some answers, but she wasn’t about to threaten him for them. At a snail’s pace, she trudged towards Sabra and the man, a look of concern and utter confusion on her face. With her palms held out, she waved them in a back and forth motion as she said, “A-ah, Sabra, please be careful. Don’t hurt him... I’m sure he meant well.” It was out of complete kindness and concern for the man that she said these words, completely forgetting about her own wounds and pain. She was worried more of his state than she was of her own. A motherly look crossed her features as she patiently waited for the man to respond. "A-are you alright?"
[/size][/color][/font] |
|
Yuril Artwaltz
Magi
Littlewood?s Law[M:0]
i'm sipping on some sunshine
Posts: 13
|
Post by Yuril Artwaltz on Feb 13, 2010 1:49:25 GMT -5
Ok, the danger wasn’t so addicting anymore.
Waking up that morning, Yuril hadn’t imagined anything as strange as the situation he was involved in now ever happening to him. It had all started out so normal. He’d been rudely awakened by his two youngest siblings, the twins Iris and Penelope, as per usual. From there he’d gone about his normal routine, cooking breakfast for the entire family, followed by the rush of getting ready for work, school, life, etc. After dropping the twins and Alyssa off at school, he’d returned home and started on the arduous task of cleaning up the house. All and all, just another normal day.
So this begged the question of just how in the world he’d ended up pinned to a tree, a sword pressed to his throat, and a delicate part of his anatomy in danger of being pulverized. After his impromptu crash landing, Yuril had wanted nothing more than to lay there for the rest of eternity (or at least until his bruises stopped aching). After all, the ground was so soft, and he felt wiped out both physically and mentally after such an ordeal. Unfortunately no such reprieve awaited him, as he’d barely had a chance to mutter his one word of pain before he was roughly pulled back into the air. The world spun once more, the trees above only letting a few pinpricks of moonlight through their leaves, illuminating the form of his victim momentarily. He had nothing more than a snapshot, a blurred image of pink hair and a dazed look, before his back was slammed into the trunk of a nearby tree. His cry of pain stuck in his throat as he felt the prick of cold steel against his neck. Suddenly, he had an overwhelming urge to swallow.
Peering down the blade, Yuril found himself face-to-face with his assailant, a dark haired woman who immediately began submitting him questions. Questions which made him even more confused then he’d already been. Nobody had sent him, and he knew nothing about the pair of them, except maybe that the one holding the sword was possibly some sort of homicidal maniac. A…Rather pretty looking maniac, but a maniac all the same. He’d just opened his mouth to say as much (excluding the homicidal maniac part since he was sure it would get him run through) when the woman’s partner and Yuril’s unfortunate victim walked up. Finally given a chance to observe the both of them, Yuril took his time running an eye over the both of them.
They certainly made a strange duo, what with the dark-haired woman wearing what appeared to be some sort of ninja like outfit, and the other with her fantastically pink hair. It made Yuril think of all the pink things he’d seen in life, like strawberries, bubblegum, and cotton candy all wrapped into one. So entranced was he by her hair, it took him a moment to realize she was talking. To him. Scrabbling against the trunk behind him, Yuril tried to straighten up a bit before answering, which turned out be a bad decision as he felt a sudden increase in pressure from the blade on his neck. Still not enough to draw blood, but the meaning was clear enough.
Taking a deep breath, or at least as deep of a breath as he could manage while having a blade pressed against his throat, Yuril put on his best smile before replying. “I’m fine…Mostly, thank you for asking. I’m sorry about running into you like that, I’m not used to seeing anybody else but me when I come up here,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant. “As for who sent me, that would have to be nobody. I come here to practice magic you see, the trees make for an interesting obstacle course.” he continued coolly, not at all troubled by the fact that he’d admitted to the existence of magic. If these two were mortals, then the fact that they’d seen him flying in the first place had already landed him in deep trouble, so best to just admit the truth and roll with whatever trouble came later. He didn’t think they were mortals though, simply because the woman holding the sword was much to dangerous to be a mere mortal, and the pink-haired girl seemed to be giving off vibes that marked her as a magi of some sort.
“As for your final question, my answer would have to be nothing. I know absolutely nothing about either of you, what you’re doing here, or why you deem it necessary to threaten me in such a manner,” he finished, sliding down the tree a bit as though the mere act of speaking had tired him out completely. “Though I do know that if first impressions were anything to go by, yours would be decidedly lackluster.” |
|
|
|
Post by Nehayat Vakili on Feb 18, 2010 21:41:59 GMT -5
 --- the streets are all violent, with murderous excitement ,.[/color][/size][/font] ( THE HUNTER AND THE PREY ARE DANCING EVERY DAY )[/center] As she kept an eye on the strange man she had pinned against the tree, Sabra listened to her Summoner. Reverie didn't seem to be exceptionally injured from her fall, aside from the expected dizziness from such a hard impact with the ground. As the mage climbed to her feet, she began to speak. Sabra was slightly disappointed the kindness in Reverie's words, but at the same time they inspired a fierce protectiveness in the Assassin. Didn't the girl know that this man could be an enemy? They were in a deserted area, but he had barreled into them. If Sabra had been a moment slower getting through the trees, the man could have killed Reverie three times over. Whether Reverie liked it or not, the moment she had summoned Sabra, she had entered both of them into this war. There was no going back. There was no pretending that her world was still safe. Anyone could be an enemy. And if Reverie wouldn't accept that and protect herself, Sabra would protect her twice-over.
But the moment the man began to speak, Sabra's attention whipped back towards him. To any rational, trusting person, the answers he gave would have been considered “right”. But Sabra hadn't gotten as far as she had by being rational, much less trusting. If he came here often, then he knew the environment and surroundings better than Sabra or Reverie could hope, which would give the edge in a fight if he struck first. He didn't seem overly concerned about revealing his use of magic; was he a fool, or simply powerful enough that he didn't worry about being caught? Either option was troubling. And though he claimed to know nothing about them, Sabra still felt a prickle of unease. If traveling between the realms was going to be this troubling and unsafe, she'd have to talk to Reverie about sticking one spot to stay. The Assassin would feel much safer in a well-fortified base with at least three verified escape routes.
As the man slid down the tree slightly, Sabra had to control her automatic response to skewer his throat at the unexpected movement. Although, with the words that followed his dejected slumping, the Assassin decided she might have been better off with following through on that instinct. “I can't imagine why I should feel the need to restrain you,” she said dryly. “It isn't as if you were barreling through the woods in the middle of the night with no care for anyone around you. It isn't as if you sent my companion flying back several yards and could have severely injured. I can't imagine why I might take any precautions.” But as she said this, Sabra released the man, stepping back a few feet. She didn't sheathe her dagger however, but merely swung the blade in a lazy circle. “Well, if you don't have anything to do with us...” She looked at her Summoner. “What do you want to do, Reverie?”
[/size][/font] |
|
|
|
Post by Reverie Fuyuhana on Feb 20, 2010 14:09:16 GMT -5
Dizzy, dizzy. So dizzy. These were the thoughts that swirled around the twenty-year-old’s head. Ah, geez. She hadn’t this to happen at all, but then again, who would? Having someone crash land into you when you were just taking a mindless stroll through the forest wasn’t exactly a plausible thought, now was it? It reminded her of the time when she’d almost fallen off a cliff, only to be saved by a mysterious, red-headed stranger who barely knew anything about. It felt like she had been involuntarily pushed into a corner of surprises, never knowing what exactly was just around the corner, and having her butt saved all the time. Not exactly a comforting thought, to be sure. It was more of imposing on her saviour than it was her getting hurt. Some would argue her insanity, but that was how she was built. Somehow, this thought made her feel like she would never belong in the world. But now wasn’t the time to get depressed. There was a different matter at hand, and one that involved flying men.
Even before he spoke, Reverie could already feel the magic aura exuding from him, so there was no need for her to doubt him, or ask him of his nature. With this, despite his rather flashy entrance, she felt her tense muscles slightly relax. Ah, at least there was no danger of being found out if she used her magic here and now. That was always one of her biggest worries. The Council of Magi were rather strict about keeping magic’s existence a secret, what with the delicate balance between humans and those of a different “nature”, one could say. According to them, it would mean the end of the world, seeing as how humans had already tried to imitate their magic but had failed (thankfully, imagine what would happen if magic fell into hands that were unused to such power?). It seemed something straight out of some horror-sci/fi book with these extremes, but there was no doubt it would come to that. This was why the Council’s main job was to ensure that their kind was kept a secret, and to those who were found out... Reverie really didn’t want to think about. She’d imagined something along the lines of execution or some sort of memory wipe, but really, she’d rather not dwell on that side of things. Sighing, the girl couldn’t help but let a small grin escape from her lips despite her unstable condition. At least that detail was out of the way.
Now there was just the matter of the man. Under this light, his features weren’t too clear, but she suspected that he was rather good-looking... even pinned up against a tree like that. Reverie breathed easier when she heard the man’s reply; at least one of them was. “Ah, that’s good. I’m... sorry to have surprised you like that. I didn’t know someone else used these woods. Please forgive me interruption and trespassing.” She bowed, signalling her respect and regret. But really, it was her fault he’d bumped into her. If she’d consulted around as to who came here regularly, he would have never crashed into her and gotten hurt. So the bottom line was, it was her fault. She felt truly guilty, and this much was obvious on her face.
“It’s fine, Sabra”, Reverie muttered, her voice containing a high-pitched tone that almost made it look like she was ready to cry. “We were at fault here; we shouldn’t have come to this forest.” She turned to the man, her eyes wide and innocent as she silently begged in her head for his forgiveness. “I’m really, really sorry! What can I do to make it up to you, mister...?” Ah, shoot, she’d forgotten to ask him his name. She was really going crazy now, wasn’t she? First, she’d trespassed, then had Sabra interrogate the man, and now she had forgotten her manners. She was just messing up today big time, wasn’t she? “U-um... please don’t feel bad about this whole thing, it’s my fault, really!” She looked at the ground, prodding it with her foot. This really wasn’t her week, that much she could say.
[/size][/color][/font] |
|
Yuril Artwaltz
Magi
Littlewood?s Law[M:0]
i'm sipping on some sunshine
Posts: 13
|
Post by Yuril Artwaltz on Mar 3, 2010 19:46:33 GMT -5
//we were the KINGS and QUEENS of promise\\ -::WE WERE THE VICTIMS OF OURSELVES::- - - - - - - - - - Feeling the sword tip leave his throat, Yuril let out a sigh. At least the ninja woman had deemed him safe enough to remove her sword. Definitely a step in the right direction.
Stepping away from the tree, Yuril rubbed his neck a bit, partly to annoy the Sabra woman, and partly to make sure his head really was still connected to his body. Once assured that he wasn’t in fact headless without his knowledge, Yuril set about straightening up his appearance. His clothes had become rumpled and twisted, and his coat was smeared with dirt. He also seemed to have twigs stuck in his hair. All and all, he looked a dreadful mess. The pink-haired girl looked pristine in comparison; more rattled mentally than physically.
Yuril sighed again; it’d take forever to remove the clutter by conventional methods. Thankfully being a mage meant he was anything but conventional, thank the gods. Pointing one hand at his hair, he focused his mana, creating a concentrated stream of air from his fingertip similar to a blow-dryer which he used to remove the twigs from his hair. Once done, he repeated the trick with his coat, removing the dirt in a matter of seconds and returning his coat back to its normal fluffy white condition. A quick twist of shirt and pants, and he was back to normal, except for the numerous bruises now covering his body.
Once done with his preening, Yuril turned his eye on Sabra. Her words unnecessarily mean to say the least. Yes, he had been flying through the forest faster than what was considered safe, and yes, he had managed to hit her companion rather hard in the process. In the end though, neither action had enough bad karma behind it to warrant being threatened with a sword. “Look Miss, I’m terribly sorry for inconveniencing both you and your friend,” he said, taking on a more practical tone to show how serious he was.” I’ll admit I was being reckless, and because of that recklessness your friend almost got hurt. But, I would like to make it perfectly clear that, to my knowledge, no one other than myself was known to frequent these parts. So I hope you can understand why I might be a bit miffed at being ruffed up a bit and having a sword put to my throat.” Not to mention the danger to his privates. Dirty tactic if ever he’d seen one.
Hearing Reverie’s voice, Yuril turned away from berating Nehayat to give the girl his full attention. “Trespassing? Why my dear, you’re not trespassing at all. I don’t own these woods if that’s what your thinking.” He said, suddenly all sunshine and smiles again. “Miss, you have nothing to be sorry about. None of this is your fault. Truthfully I am loathe to admit it,” here he paused a moment, shooting Sabra a glance, “but your friend there is right. This is all my fault. As I said before, I was being reckless, and that reckless behavior put you in danger. Please accept my most humble apologies.”
He paused, waited long enough for his words to sink in and have effect, and then he was off again. “Now then, I’m afraid we’ve gone and gotten off on the entirely wrong foot. So, maybe we could try this whole ‘first meeting’ thing again, eh? Allow me to introduce myself! My name madams, is Yuril Artwaltz. A pleasure to make your acquaintance!” he said, finishing his introduction with an elegant bow to the both of them.
Ah, Yuril. Always the melodramatic fool. - - - - - - - - - -::MAYBE THE CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD::- \\betweenHEAVEN and HELL// speaking: Reverie and Nehayat!
words: 592 D:
lyrics: Kings and Queens-30 Seconds to Mars
listening to: Soul-Eater (So Scandalous)-Sphere of Influence
notes: Late post is laaaaate…And new template thingy is dorky. XD |
|
