*WaRnInG*
{This piece contains some, uh, really weird stuff like about romance and, uh,
heheheh, stuff from Dilandau's little mind. You have been warned.}
Dilandau was bored. There had been no action on the battlefield for
some time now, and he had nothing to do. He had meetings with Folken, of course,to discuss strategies, but other than that, he just stayed in the Vione and ordered his underlings around.
He sat on his throne, tapping his fingers on the table at his side.
He needed excitement, something..new, he decided. Anything would be better
than this, he thought. He giggled for no apparent reason, just to let out
some of his excess energy, and it evolved into a series of high pitched
insane sounding laughs that echoed in the room. He stroked his cheek where
the scar was. *The scar from Van..I will repay him for this,* he thought
hatefully.
His displeasure and hate ran though him and turned into adrenaline
that pumped through his veins. He picked up his wine glass and hurled it
angrily it across the room. It shattered against the far wall in a satisfying
crash. He settled himself down and went back to strumming his fingers on the
tabletop.
He played with the hilt of his sword, pulling it out and then putting the
sword back into the sheath. He fingered an end of his hair, twirling it and
wrapping it around his finger. A loud knock on the chamber's door brought him
back to the focus. Gatti walked in.
"Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken has captured an Asturian spy and wants
you to come immediately.
*A spy..* he thought, licking his lips. He got up and dismissed Gatti and
walked out of the room and down the halls. *I wonder who it is...Allen, perhaps?
Van? No, not one of them..someone new,* an evil grin crept across his face as
he wondered about who it could be.
As he entered the lower part of the Vione, the dimly lit and grey dungeon,
Folken was having the prisoner walked to a room. Dilandau couldn't get a good look
at whoever was foolish enough to cross the border, and it annoyed him.
"Who is it Folken?"
Folken turned around. "It is a girl who claims to have nothing to do
with Asturia or Fanelia," he said plainly.
Dilandau looked surprised. *A girl? Why would they send a girl to spy? It seems
more suspicious than if they sent a male..* Dilandau trailed off when he caught
a glimpse of her. *Ha. This one promises to be fun,* he thought, smiling a
sleazy grin at her.
She was as tall as him, give or take an inch, and had golden hair
down past her shoulders. Her skin tone was darker than his light, paler shade.
She was wearing a dark red shirt and what appeared to be light blue denim
pants on.
She was unbound and then roughly thrown in the room. She stood up and dusted
herself off. She wasn't like any other girl he had ever seen. First of all,
she was different looking, she looked like she could take on the world at
that minute. Her expression was pure hatred and vengeance at she looked at
the guards.
Her face told Dilandau that she was a trained fighter. Who would train a
female, he did not know. Her hand longed to have a weapon in it, and her
palm was curving with her fingers into the shape of a sword's hilt. She
looked from Folken to the guard, briefly resting her eyes on Dilandau. As
she did, her expression flickered with an expression of worry. It was quickly
replaced with one of indifference.Dilandau stood straighter as her eyes
skimmed his face for a moment. Her eyes were the color of the ocean, a deep
blue and a lighter green seemed to be mixing and swirling with it. She sighed
defeatedly and walked to the back of the room and said nothing.
Folken and the guard turned and started to walk away. Folken stopped
and turned back to look at Dilandau.
"Dilandau, I want you to leave the prisoner alone until the questioning
in a few days. Can you do that?" he asked. Dilandau nodded, still smiling.
Folken walked away. Dilandau was left alone in front of the. He walked after
him.
Later that night, as he laid in his bed, the sheets thrown loosely around
him, Dilandau was plagued by the thoughts of the girl in the cell, how she'd
looked at him, how she looked..*Ha. I'll have this girl wrapped around my
finger in one hour. I can't think about her like that- she's the enemy, a
prisoner of war. She's against the Zaibach forces, so that means she's against
me. But the way she looks..it's new. I've never seen a girl so..so..
warrior-like and..no! I can't think about her.* But the urge to do something
new still hung over him like a rain cloud, never going away. He stared at
the tile gray ceiling and thought about her some more. He got up and dressed
himself in the rest of his black leather uniform and walked out the door.
{Well, that's it. I want to know if the people want more of this story, so
I'm waiting to post the rest of it up. All credits and happy things can be
written to me. All flames can go to Dilandau- he'll use them to toast marshmallows
or Van or something in that general area. Moreo, MOREOOO!!}
{This piece contains some, uh, really weird stuff like about romance and, uh,
heheheh, stuff from Dilandau's little mind. You have been warned.}
Dilandau was bored. There had been no action on the battlefield for
some time now, and he had nothing to do. He had meetings with Folken, of course,to discuss strategies, but other than that, he just stayed in the Vione and ordered his underlings around.
He sat on his throne, tapping his fingers on the table at his side.
He needed excitement, something..new, he decided. Anything would be better
than this, he thought. He giggled for no apparent reason, just to let out
some of his excess energy, and it evolved into a series of high pitched
insane sounding laughs that echoed in the room. He stroked his cheek where
the scar was. *The scar from Van..I will repay him for this,* he thought
hatefully.
His displeasure and hate ran though him and turned into adrenaline
that pumped through his veins. He picked up his wine glass and hurled it
angrily it across the room. It shattered against the far wall in a satisfying
crash. He settled himself down and went back to strumming his fingers on the
tabletop.
He played with the hilt of his sword, pulling it out and then putting the
sword back into the sheath. He fingered an end of his hair, twirling it and
wrapping it around his finger. A loud knock on the chamber's door brought him
back to the focus. Gatti walked in.
"Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken has captured an Asturian spy and wants
you to come immediately.
*A spy..* he thought, licking his lips. He got up and dismissed Gatti and
walked out of the room and down the halls. *I wonder who it is...Allen, perhaps?
Van? No, not one of them..someone new,* an evil grin crept across his face as
he wondered about who it could be.
As he entered the lower part of the Vione, the dimly lit and grey dungeon,
Folken was having the prisoner walked to a room. Dilandau couldn't get a good look
at whoever was foolish enough to cross the border, and it annoyed him.
"Who is it Folken?"
Folken turned around. "It is a girl who claims to have nothing to do
with Asturia or Fanelia," he said plainly.
Dilandau looked surprised. *A girl? Why would they send a girl to spy? It seems
more suspicious than if they sent a male..* Dilandau trailed off when he caught
a glimpse of her. *Ha. This one promises to be fun,* he thought, smiling a
sleazy grin at her.
She was as tall as him, give or take an inch, and had golden hair
down past her shoulders. Her skin tone was darker than his light, paler shade.
She was wearing a dark red shirt and what appeared to be light blue denim
pants on.
She was unbound and then roughly thrown in the room. She stood up and dusted
herself off. She wasn't like any other girl he had ever seen. First of all,
she was different looking, she looked like she could take on the world at
that minute. Her expression was pure hatred and vengeance at she looked at
the guards.
Her face told Dilandau that she was a trained fighter. Who would train a
female, he did not know. Her hand longed to have a weapon in it, and her
palm was curving with her fingers into the shape of a sword's hilt. She
looked from Folken to the guard, briefly resting her eyes on Dilandau. As
she did, her expression flickered with an expression of worry. It was quickly
replaced with one of indifference.Dilandau stood straighter as her eyes
skimmed his face for a moment. Her eyes were the color of the ocean, a deep
blue and a lighter green seemed to be mixing and swirling with it. She sighed
defeatedly and walked to the back of the room and said nothing.
Folken and the guard turned and started to walk away. Folken stopped
and turned back to look at Dilandau.
"Dilandau, I want you to leave the prisoner alone until the questioning
in a few days. Can you do that?" he asked. Dilandau nodded, still smiling.
Folken walked away. Dilandau was left alone in front of the. He walked after
him.
Later that night, as he laid in his bed, the sheets thrown loosely around
him, Dilandau was plagued by the thoughts of the girl in the cell, how she'd
looked at him, how she looked..*Ha. I'll have this girl wrapped around my
finger in one hour. I can't think about her like that- she's the enemy, a
prisoner of war. She's against the Zaibach forces, so that means she's against
me. But the way she looks..it's new. I've never seen a girl so..so..
warrior-like and..no! I can't think about her.* But the urge to do something
new still hung over him like a rain cloud, never going away. He stared at
the tile gray ceiling and thought about her some more. He got up and dressed
himself in the rest of his black leather uniform and walked out the door.
{Well, that's it. I want to know if the people want more of this story, so
I'm waiting to post the rest of it up. All credits and happy things can be
written to me. All flames can go to Dilandau- he'll use them to toast marshmallows
or Van or something in that general area. Moreo, MOREOOO!!}