Hey! This is M.C TWDF, bringing you the sickest beats this side of the universe! A multi-chapter fic! Can I hear a W00T! Enjoi! Share! Opinionate!
I do not own the sick yarn used to weave this tale. All characters belong to the M.C Hussie.
Now that the legal stuff is out of the way, (to reappear every 4th chapter or so) let's begin!
Ch. 1 Meeting?
Fira's first memories after The Haze were of a white room. He remembered the doctors, the experiments, and death. So much death. It had begun as a trickle- a cough here, a sneeze there,- until one by one, doctors stopped visiting him, being dead or terrified. He remembered when he first wanted to escape, the immeasurable amount of time spent planning, stopping only when the computer men flooded the room with knock-out gas. He (vaguely) remembered breaking out. It was easy, really, once he found the cameras. It was just a matter of destroying them; the computer men weren't going to come after him, not after what he had apparently done to the doctors. He still didn't know what he had done himself. And since then, and now, he walked.
Fira never stayed in one place too long. His "ability" only would allow him to stay until the first coughs were heard, until the first person died. Then he had to move on, or be persecuted for "witchcraft" or "demonic behavior". His eyes didn't help either.
Fira had heard from the doctors that his namesake had come from his eyes, but, as he never had had a mirror, he hadn't known exactly why. Then, when he escaped, he caught a reflection of himself a rainy afternoon. Then, he knew. He had thought, for a moment, that his eyes were really hot embers there in front of him, and that he would be able to keep warm during the wet, chilly night. Until his hand passed through said "embers", that was. He usually found sympathetic people that were willing to take him in, eyes and all, although in the last town he woke up tied to a bed, eyes about to be gouged out by a priest chanting, "Demon, be gone!" He had escaped, and was currently escaping in the forest, where he knew the villagers wouldn't follow after dark.
As he wandered the forest, he heard, through the evening silence, a faint rustle. As it didn't persist, Fira didn't think much of it. Until he tripped on a rock.
"Hey! I'm trying to sleep, you know!" THE ROCK TALKED.
...Or maybe not a rock. But who would be in the forest at this time of day? Fira decided he needed to find out. It might still be a rock, you know.
"Who are you?" Real smooth.
"John. An' you?"
"Dave." Fira felt that after the fiasco of the last town, it would be probably safer to change his name. "What are you doing in the forest at sunset?"
"Me?" No, the log you're sitting on. "Pshh. Totally not lost, if that's what you mean. Either way, I could ask the same of you."
"I'm headed for the next town. You from there?" Fira thought it'd be good to get some guidance. No matter how lost this kid is.
"You mean Thorneville? Yeah." Likewise, John thought it would be a good idea to get help from someone. Even this strange stranger.
"Cool. Well, Mr. I'm-not-lost-but-please-save-me-my-heroic-knight-of-time guy, let's go then."
"Saved by the likes of you? Not likely, 'Knight of Time'." John blew, -or tried to blow- a raspberry at Fira's face. It ended up being more like just blowing, however.
"What was that?! That's it, you are now 'The Windy Boy'. Let's go." With that, Fira started walking again, John trailing behind cautiously. A bit later, Fira felt something (glasses?) being pushed into his hand. He only had to wait a moment before John offered an explanation.
"I like your eyes, but where we're going, people would kill you for your 'demonic' eyes". John wiggled his fingers in air quotes, despite the fact Fira couldn't see them.
"Hm." Fira slipped the shades on, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness before continuing onward, pushing through the dense brush crowding the trail.