IN: 12 AUG 2008 2347 +8 GMT (Singapore). Disclaimer: I do not own Maplestory. Characters do belong to myself, though concepts of necromancy were borrowed from Randomness From Boredom.
Written specially for Absol Master's Challenge.
Terpsichore: Dance of the Dragon
Darkness settled like a spell of unwavering power, awaiting its time of coming. The forests smelt of fresh rain, the atmosphere being anything but. For some inexplicable reason, people dared not enjoy an evening walk along the branches of the great trees, choosing instead to think of what unfortunate fate would befall upon them should they actually venture out in the supposedly eerie blackness. Perhaps a certain Lupin would greet them with chatters and banana skins, or maybe a friendly little slime would somewhat hinder their journey back home. Petty thoughts, those people held.
Of course, some had valid reasons.
Nadir was afraid. He was afraid that they would turn onto him, that they would pursue him, and that they would eventually kill him for being the traitor so wanted. His hands clenched onto his partner's wrist, the vicelike grip making the victim wince. Despite being a White Knight, Yasuo was still absolutely no match for a person who had dwelled in the dark arts for as long as he had remembered, choosing instead, to make his misery shown.
He hacked as Nadir released his grip, apologising furiously with a barrage of whispers. To Nadir, the Ellinian Nights had never been this frightening. A sense of "disturbia", he had called it, before retreating back into his fearful gaze, hiding behind the member of the Holy Chivalry for protection: protection that he only could wish would comfort him.
"There is absolutely no reason why I did come to Victoria Island with you, Nadir, other than the fact that you are the only friend I have." Yasuo breathed out a sigh as his partner of no class shook his head, eyes glazed. "You're lucky you had your Castanets with you, or surely we would have gotten caught."
Nadir shivered. The pair had been assaulted by a group of head-hunters – paid assassins not necessarily of the said class who, with nothing better to do and money to be earned, were for hire to eliminate any being requested – en route to Ellina from Perion. Surely the necromancers had sent this group, because both of them had felt the stony eyes stare at them, unwavering glares cutting through their souls. It was typical of the guild to place such curses on victims. Nadir had effectively hypnotised them with a simple chant, a flick of wrists and a hop on a dance. Yasuo had delivered them.
This Beginner – rather, a Dancer who chose to abandon his caste – was certainly more experienced that the White Knight, yet Nadir held a certain respect towards Yasuo as a person of might and justice. The latter reminded Nadir of who he had been before he fell: the deep, enchanting emerald gaze; brown tresses tinted crimson; the bronzed skin that showcased a lifetime of training and discipline…
No, Yasuo was a carbon copy of himself.
For a moment, Nadir relaxed, his mind freeing itself of all worries and anxiety to dwell on the thought that Yasuo could very well be related to him by blood.
He jerked at the blaring of a horn – the last ship headed for Ossyria had just docked. His mind whirled at the prospect of reaching home safely and not having to deal with excessive trouble on the way: trouble that could only be met in the skies; trouble that could only be solved through a single method, a single shimmer of something precious to every being.
Yasuo blinked as he examined an old man – probably wise beyond his years – levitating towards the both of them. It was none other than Hines, the leader of the Magicians. He did not speak. Rather, he showed a certain fatherly concern as he touched Nadir on the forehead, magic flowing from his fingertips and cutting off abruptly, leaving the Dancer to shake in the knowing of what knowledge Hines had passed on to him. Knowledge that could only reveal his future, be it soon, or far away.
To Yasuo, the elder gave a package. The Paladin bowed with deep respect, meeting with Hines' gentle eyes that faded into the forest of Ellinia.
"Takahashi."
The White Knight turned to face Nadir. There was only one who knew his family name.
"We're going to be late if we don't hurry."
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The whirring of blades outside the cabin could be heard distinctively over the slight munching of food, Nadir savouring the contents of his Unagi Obento. Yasuo had been done ages ago, a satisfied thanks in Japanese had him excusing himself, leaving Nadir to contemplate on whatever came to mind.
"You need to start taking care of yourself. Even if you were older than me by a hundredfold, you shouldn't be afraid of what they might do to you. You have the Music of the Spheres to guide your heart and protect your soul." Yasuo's firm voice resonated within the chasms of his being, Nadir pausing upon a piece of Unagi, letting salt dwell on his tongue for a little longer, before he pulled the rest of this delicacy in.
The Music of the Spheres. He set his chopsticks down, closing his eyes. He could feel it – even though Pythagoras had stated it inaudible; this music of the celestials resonated within each and every being that held life. The flowers held their own song, and so did the sky. But the most famously-heard among those who were spiritually sensitive: surely it was the Dance of the Dragon.
It was held by none other than the Horned Tail – a mythical beast in the dungeons of Leafre. Three heads held three symphonies, and only one legendary musician had replicated that melody to every precise note. But nobody could imitate the majesty that bestowed upon them on hearing the song of the Dance of the Dragon. It was nature, and nature could not be replicated by mankind, the mere mortals they were. Nadir knew how it was like to face the legend, and listen.
"You have the Music of the Spheres to guide your heart and protect your soul."
He sat to think about Yasuo – the life that had been granted to him as a companion. When they had first met, Yasuo was something of a weak swordsman, with nothing to learn upon, no one to be taught upon. He had been pale, sickly and weak. He had had no knowledge whatsoever. Nadir had taken the swordsman and trained him, using the knowledge he so totally abhorred and giving it to the person who needed it most. Since then, the Paladin had been with Nadir wherever they went. Even to the Nest of the Nine Spirits, this young child – at least to the former necromancer – was the only person who truly believed in change.
It meant so much.
A distinct roar could be heard, Nadir snapping out of his frozen state, ears tuning to the frequencies as he identified them as threats. White pupils squinted and peppery hair flew in all directions as he headed outside onto the deck, his Obento lying on the cherry table, neatly stacked and packed. Wind ran around them, screaming, before his mind set about realising that the passengers were fighting for their lives on the mast, facing the sky pirates that were notorious for their evil magic.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, but he chose to ignore it, restraining the evil that so desperately wanted to fight: the evil that so desperately wanted blood to be shed.
Nadir slipped the pair of Castanets out of his pockets, whispering a chant as he appeared in the Crow's Nest with a flash of sapphire, next to Yasuo, who was fending off Balrog after Balrog with Sanctuary after Sanctuary. The White Knight – some called them Paladins – felt the same, metallic grip on his sword arm as Yasuo Takahashi willed his next charge to die down. The Dancer released his grasp. Beginner or not, he was still who he was – an Artiste.
The beasts gave a roar, their matted fur raising a stench in the moving air, crack after crack of black lightning falling upon the deck, ready to scorch any undeserving being to kingdom come.
Castanets clicked as everyone and everything turned to listen, the lyrics chanted in foreign tongue, the haunting melody astonishing each and every member of the audience. Balrogs ceased their flight, and sat with humans to listen. Yasuo swore he heard the terrible crash of a certain force resounding below them, as if the Horned Tail had revealed itself in all its might and glory. He shook his head, settling himself to listen.
"Cry to me, oh mere mortals
,How could it be that you,
Yes, you,
Try and try again,
Yet never have your hopes dashed at all?
Is it the persistent will
Granted upon you by divinity,
That gives you this light
To a never-ending darkness?
How is it that you dance
In times of desperation and depression?
How is it that you can ask
The King of the Skies to set slower;
The Queen of the Skies to stay longer?
Even the celestials of Ludibrium,
The Gate Keepers
The Dolors of Thanathos
They listen to you.
Could it be that
The power of the dragon
In this serenade
In this dance
Is with you, oh child?"
Nadir ended his song, the Balrogs weeping uncontrollably. The monsters of nature responded always to the call of the Dance of the Dragon: Yasuo felt something tug at his heart with every foreign syllable pronounced, every phrase shot across the deck. It was magical. It was a magic that only the Horned Tail – the legendary beast of power and might – held in its being. Even the songs of The Dolors of Thanathos and Ergoth could not compare. Somewhere in the midst of silence, he heard a mild chanting.
"Leave now, and haunt us no more." The Dancer whispered. A great whoosh of air sent Rangers scuttling for their bows and Hermits for their stars, but Nadir held out a hand, gazing into the eyes of the largest, most intimidating of the beasts. It cowered under his glare, before letting out a beastly roar in attempt of regaining the tense atmosphere, leading its troupe back to where they belonged. Nadir took the Carabella from Takahashi's hands, bashing himself on the head once, before setting it on the bottom of the Crow's Nest, embracing Yasuo in a tight gesture.
"So the legend and celestials did protect you, oh son of the sky…" The Paladin's eyes turned watery as they closed, humming the song of the Dance of the Dragon into his brother's ear, putting him at rest. The rosary lain on his chest glowed, letting its owner breathe a sigh of relief as he laid the Dancer down on a bed, waiting to reach home again.
A/N: ARGH! Random sheet! This was done on a whim. I hope Absol Master likes this, if not I am going to kill myself. I think the idea is a little too abstract and there is not enough interaction between the two characters, but one can surely expect more from the Terpsichore series. I hope you have enjoyed this, and I need critiques, bad, please.
OUT: 13 AUG 2008 0108 +8 GMT (Singapore), EDITED: 27 AUG 2008 0004 +8 GMT (Singapore)
