He felt the sensation of being thrown. He tried to regain control. Tried to spread those wings, feeling only burning pain and confusion as he realized he couldn't. He had lost the abilty to speak and now the ability to survive. The earth hurtled closer. He closed his eyes. He was given the peace of hearing one thundering crack before the black consumed his vision.
Sounds clouded his mind. Every other sense was lost. He groped in the darkness, weakly twitching as his body leaked out the last of its energy. He did not know how long he lay there, memories floating in and out of his broken mind. Every sound seemed aplified. The singing of the birds became screetching, the dance of the flames became the atonal beat to some horrific symphony. Yet one thing arose above the cacophony; the voice. That twisted, scracthy voice that penetrated his mind. It pulsed and pounded like a headache, giving him images of teeth gnashing in the black. "You exist only to kill. Get the fuck up. You exist only to kill."
He struggled to stand, his body refused. He could not obay that one sole command that so consumed him. A sound suddenly absolved the rest in white, the screetch. Make it stop! Make it end! No! No! No more! It stopped, everything stopped. The voice even rested. All his senses where lying in wait, looking towards what had just occured like a frightened animal, unsure as to what to do.
Then she saved him. Her voice. Her sweet, sweet voice. His soul calmed, and he became complete. He left his mindless body behind, and soared. Then it broke. The chain snapped and his wings could no longer carry him, he was sent back to his broken body and his broken mind.
Stand! Kill them! Shards cut deeper. Let the blood flow. Fire! Fire! Let the fire go. Let them burn. Burning flesh? Ahaha, yes. Yessss. Look at her. Look at her fear. She wants to kill you, Three. She wants you to die. Slip away, never speak again. Die for her. Die for her and she'll be happy. Die! Die! You'll only kill her! You don't love her! You can't love! Gnashing teeth, animal's cry, the sky's burning! No! No! No! End it all! End it now! Turn that staff against yourself. Raise it high and bring it down! Smash it out! Smash me out! Kill me! Kill yourself! Die! Die! Die! You exist only to ki-
He awoke. The world was blurred and painful to look at due to the harsh light. He blinked a couple of times, becoming aware of words and images. He had dreamed, he didn't know what of. Shards had passed through the blank canvas, continously cutting into his vision and piercing his mind with an image should the shards come together. He didn't understand. Suddenly he felt a needle or something penetrate his back. He shurred, arching his back and tensing his fingers. He heard someone say something about "putting it in too early".
Suddenly, he realized who it was. Crying out in the sudden rage that consumed him, he turned on his oppressors. He knocked the one off his back, grabbing the litte red creatures neck and slamming him down on the floor. "WHY?" he screamed, the only word he could think of that summerised everything that he felt.
The claw slammed into Thorn's throat, thrusting all air from his lungs and pressing him hard against the wall. Zorn cried out in protest but was overrode by the Black Waltz's roar. Thorn's mind was turning hazy. Breathing would be really nice right now. The claw ripped him from the wall and threw him to the ground. This brief reprieve allowed Thorn to breath, yet again, he lay winded against the hardened mud of the plateau.
As Thorn attempted to rise to his feet Zorn stepped forwards.
"We are responsible for your rebirth!" came his angered cry.
"Resp ... we ..." rasped Thorn slowly.
Zorn gave Thorn a bemused look and pressed a finger to the jesters red-tinted lips. Continuing his rant, he spoke again.
"As your effective makers and masters, We demand you be silent and be still!"
Sensing he was getting nowhere with words, Zorn raised his arms into the air, glowing veins spread across them forming a spring of light at his finger-tips.
"Thorn," he grinned, "Flare power."
The light cast towards Thorn in a magnificent beam, wrapping around him like a glinting spiderweb. Thorn's hands now began to glow with a malicious crimson fire. His arm raised weakly into the air and fell to directly face the Black Waltz, causing one of his shoulder's to begin smoldering in a way that could be really, really irritating if
you let it burn for a little while.
"Rebirth? Makers? MASTERS?" he laughed, wings beating as he felt his full power rising and churning within him. Never had he felt so strong, never had he felt so capable of killing. Never had he felt such lust to destroy the two before him. He had always so longed for the taste of freedom, for the taste of mastership. He hated being on a leash, being a little attack dog for that foolish queen. That queen who had sent his brother and his sister to death, never changing her plans. "Find the princess, kill the others, bring her back," that was all that fat useless mouth had murmered too him. Those death words that had cut down his brother and had caused his sister to faulter.
He had not been suprised when one had fallen. Though he was perhaps the most intellegent of the three, he was patthetically weak, always hiding behind his precious Sealion. A complete an utter fool who could not see that the Sealion was his weakness, was probably the reason why he had died. Three would admit this too no one else, but uttered within his soul was pangs of sorrow when he heard that one was gone. He had been his only release, the only one with a mind set on self-satisafaction that he could communicate too.
When two had embraced death, he had been suprised. She had always been his rival, always been so close too his power. When they had trained he had always lost to her, it had only been recently that he arose over her. He had loathed her, treating her with the least respect. She was scum who remembered loyalties and clung onto weakness because of this. She would die for such loyalties, and no doubt would cling onto them with her last dying squeel. Gods how he had loathed her, the eternal taunting swelling of her chest, that hypnotic breath that had always said his own name in contempt. He had struck her so many times, and would have done so so many more had she not been dead.
Yet as both plans had failed, that whale-beast had uttered the same damned plan again, and again he was sentanced to death like his brother and sister. By the words Zorn and Thorn had chosen it was obvious that he had infact, died. He gripped his fist tightly, talons cutting into his own flesh as he felt the pangs of anger unfurl and absorb him.
Then he noticed he was burning, eyes narrowing as he watched the fire dance in contempt. "What power.. Is this? Why have I not been shown this magic? It is not like humans such as yourselves would be able to contain the sheer power that only a Black Waltz would be able to do! Show me!" he demanded, flinging his hand out as he slapped the air.
The Flare was truly starting to pick up now, making his shoulder tense and burn with all kinds of alliments. He ignored the pain, far more fixated in destroying the innocelent jesters before him.
"You call this fire?!"
He lowered himself, lifting the battered staff from the ground, holding it high above him. Waving it lightly, he brought it down with force, pointing it at the two jesters as the flames licked around the edge of the staff. In the center a white hot glowing orb formed. Dragon heads seemed to form as the Fira built up, before it was finally unleashed from the staff, twisting around the two jesters like a tornado, the flames snapping at their heels.
Thorn still struggled to breath properly and the ash in the air wasn't helping. Zorn gazed pitifully at his counterpart but his expression quickly changed to shock as the flames began to converge, drawing to the centre in a massive conflagration.
Seeing the look of panic on Thorn's face, he shielded him with his body, taking most of the pyroclasm upon himself.
The flames dispersed leaving the two charred jesters standing shakily. Thorn, a look of fear on his face, Zorn a look of anger. The Black Waltz was powerful. Maybe too much so for the two of them. But each was determined to prevent the other being hurt.
"Far from human, we are," Thorn spoke. A look of rage crossed his face for the first time in a long time.
"Do it properly this time, Thorn," the blue jester said, a mixture of mockery and malice on his lips.
Their palms touched and power coursed through both of them. Once more, Thorn pointed to the Black Waltz, this time with energy. Crimson flames sprung up around the Waltz, holding him in place with its terrible heat. At the same time, Zorn pointed to the sky. Clouds parted to make way for the gigantic object falling to the earth and a shadow began to expand at the feet of the Winged Demon. A thunderous crunching sounded as the meteor came closer and closer. Thorn grinned viciously as impact became imminent.
He had no time too move as it smashed against him, sending him falling to the earth, crushed under the sheer destructive might of the firey ball. He felt his stitches break, stuffing falling out. Feasthers scattered everywhere as he took critical damage, his back arching as he struggled to stand. Images filled his mind of her. Filled his mind of her soft body pressed against his as he forced his way in. The tears and the blood only to end in the final gurgling kill scream.
He forced his way up, knowing he could not win this fight, no matter how strong his power was. He submitted, if only for a little while. He allowed himself to drift into thought as he planned revenge. Wings fluttered as the flames still licked his body.
He collapsed too his knees, taking heavy breaths as he bowed towards the other two, sacrificing pride for the sake of his life.
Three remembered the reason why he was fighting. He was fighting for her. Oh how could his lust be this great, how could it bring himself so close to his knees. How could this desire for her, this desire to be free, be so unbound and so great now. Why was he born with this black heart? This malicious and malignent desire to rip, to shread, to kill?
Why did he long for her so? He imagined she would whine like two would, little starled cries that would only encourage him to continue. Little whimpers of fear, pleading between the tears. Yet still those hot breaths would spill out, still her lips would speak of desire. Though her body may convulse in rejection, her fingers grabbing onto his feathers and her nails scratching across his chest, he knew the pleasure in those cries. He could smell it off of two as he wiped her satisfaction off her precious little face. Wiped off that superiority that she had once had over him. So too would he do the same to the little princess, only with her he would do something he reseved only for those he so loved.
He would slit that little whining throat wide open, squeeze out her accursaid singing. The pain upon her face would contrast the smile upon her throat that would be red raw.
"I.. Conceed" he said bitterly. "But such... Power. Let it become mine, let it be so I may destroy all those within your way... Tell me where the Princess is... I will return her too you"
He lied.
Thorn began to ready a second flare spell, with Zorn's help. As the dust from the impact cleared, the jesters has a clear view of the Winged Demon ... on his knees? He had surrendered. The super-powered killing machine, Kuja's masterpiece of black mage construction, had surrendered. Perhaps he was not too powerful after all. Zorn glanced questioningly to Thorn who pulled him away and began to whisper.
"Unusual action for a Black Waltz this is."
"Indeed it is unusual. Shall we accept his help? He may turn out to be useful."
Considering the events so far, his answer would have to be no. After reviving the Waltz, he decided to try to kill them. Now he is obviously trying to trick them. Surely nothing that 'EXISTS TO KILL,' would surrender so easily? Then again, he never said he existed to die. Making his mind up, he whispered quietly to his brother.
"An interesting plan, I have."
Zorn raised an eyebrow.
"If, to claim from the castle what is ours, we are. A distraction we may need."
Zorn grinned for a moment then replied, eyes widened slightly.
"And his other request, Thorn? Do we really give him such power we have developed over so long?"
A difficult question. It was unlikely the Waltz would accompany them unless they were to give him their power. However, meteorite and light flare were complicated and destructive spells. Giving them to one who could easily betray them would not be wise.
"Perhaps too, to trick him, we are," he smirked.
Before waiting for Zorn's reply, he turned to the crippled Waltz.
"Fix you again, we must. But then, accompany us you can. Once we find the princess, yours, will be our magical secret."
After handing the needle and thread to Zorn, he began to gather up all the spilled stuffing, cog-wheels and other internal ... organs ... placing them back into the Waltz. The jesters began to stitch, uncaring of how much it pained the creature.
"Ah, brother. We are foolish," Zorn stated after several minutes.
"Foolish, we are, Zorn", Thorn agreed with a look of exasperation for himself.
Three chose not too speak, only inching closer so the jesters could repair him. Sitting down, he sighed, bowing his head. His eyes narrowed in contempt as he felt the needles threading through him. He glanced disintrestedly as they pushed his stuffing back in, twitching in pain every now and then.
He had wished they had had the curtosy as to shut off his nervous system, but he permitted the pain. Closing his eyes and twitching every now and then as a needle proded a particullarly sensitive area, he remembered that it was all worth it. Tightening a fist, he allowed himself to relax.
For the second time, the jesters began to leap up and down, chanting. the Black Waltz once more was repaired.
"In need of the key, are you?" Thorn cocked his head at the Black Waltz. Should he reject their offer, the jesters could be in for another fight. Feeling his legs still shaking and seeing Zorn swaying a little where he stood, Thorn hoped it would not come to that.
He watched silently as the two Jesters talked, choosing too ignore them. Let them contemplate, he would still suck them dry and use them for all they where worth before abondoning them. He examinded his damages, running his talons through his precious wings. Preening himself, he brushed the dust and debris away, desprete to look presentable again.
He let himself drift upwards into the air, enjoying the feeling of flying as he looked down upon the two. Listening too their plans, he simply nodded.
"She will be returned with ease. The mistakes I made last time shall not be repeated. I exist to kill and all that," he hissed, looking upwards. Allowing his wings to warm up for a few more moments, he pushed himself forewards, rising with the air currents as he soared before the castle looming in the distance.