Author's Note: Written for Xirysa's five sense challenge.
Sense One: Sight
--Begin--
She had never despised anything quite so much as this infernal darkness.
Desperate, she turned an imploring look at the staff within her hands, and tried to will it to produce more than the faint glow that surrounded its jeweled tip. But the stave's power was fading, and with its power went the ability to produce light in the midst of this gloom.
She suppressed a very uncharacteristic huff and renewed her efforts to coax more light from the Torch Stave and to pierce this rotten, foggy gloom that surrounded her.
It felt unnatural to be out here on foot, to be in the midst of this smoggy night without her mount. She could have covered much more ground much more if she used her horse, but Rhys had taken a beating in that final battle and deserved his rest.
But rest would be denied her until she found her answers.
Priscilla cast her gaze about the desolation that surrounded her and strained to see her surroundings. The carnage and aftermath of the battle lay on all sides of her, offering mute testimony to the battle that had been fought on this land. Never before had she been witness to such brutality, and she desperately hoped that this would be the end of their champagne. Just as she wished that he had survived.
Priscilla took another, cautious, step forward. The marshy ground buckled under her weight, and squelched as if angry at her presence. The girl looked down, not at the ground below, but at those who had fallen.
A pair of sightless eyes stared back at her from the deceased Morph who lay at her feet. A shudder ripped down Priscilla's spine, drawing a startled gasp from her throat. No matter how many Morphs she saw, she could not help but be taken aback by them each time. There was something about their glowing yellow eyes and jet-black hair that was unnatural in an evil way.
But this Morph was not the object of her search, Priscilla was not here to worry about those that the Elite, Horde and Legion had slain. Those did not matter to her.
The red-haired Valkyrie looked up and squinted into the foggy night. The path only grew more tangled as she moved forward, both in plant and marsh life and in the numbers of the fallen. Priscilla reminded herself why she was here, and pushed herself onward. She gingerly put one foot forward, and tried to tame her rebellious stomach.
The object of her consternation was in one simple fact: the only way she could move forward would be to nudge a fallen Morph out of her way. Priscilla reminded herself about her mission, and steeled herself as she gingerly nudged the corpse aside with her foot. Then she moved forward one single pace and looked about her again.
A dead General and a fallen Pegasus Knight lay on either side of her. Priscilla did her best to ignore the dead stares that they were sending her and tried to look past them. She hated these sights, she hated the way the dead looked at her. The fallen Morphs accused her and her comrades of all the killing they had performed, and cast contentious looks upon her as if condemning their hypocrisy.
The girl hastily shook her head, causing her red hair to fly about wildly. She needed to clear her mind, to fling those thoughts from her brain. What was done was done, and she would have to endure.
Priscilla didn't care for the sight of these fallen. They could not affect her, she had to remember that.
The girl couldn't help but feel a touch uneasy as she shuffled forward another pace. Why had she allowed them to separate in the first place? Why had she accepted his half-baked idea that he could draw of the Morph forces and allow her to escape their onslaught? This had been a crucial fight, a brutal war. They should have stayed together at all costs, no matter what. Now she was lost and alone.
She desperately needed to find him, to put her mind at ease. She had been tormented since he left of things that could have gone wrong, things that might have happened. He was good with a blade, that was true. But was he good enough to stand alone against an army of these unfeeling things?
She didn't know that answer, and until she found one she could not rest.
The Valkyrie forced herself to go on and to take another step forward. Another pair of golden eyes came into the light and drilled a dead man's stare at her. Priscilla looked down at the fallen Morph Mercenary and breathed a silent prayer of thanks that it was not the object of her search. She didn't care how many Morphs she had to look at- she didn't fear their sight. There was only one sight that she was afraid of.
In this field of the dead and dieing, she didn't want to see Guy. She loved him too much. If he had died in this combat, then there was no telling what shape his body would be in. She didn't want to see him desecrated or destroyed. She wanted to see him alive.
The red-haired Valkyrie hesitated. There was something just peeking into her little bubble of light in this dirty sea of night. It glittered in the light from her Torch.
Priscilla stared at it and felt a surge of panic in her chest. She recognized that thing. Its curved blade and gleaming edge was something that she was far familiar with. It was the blade of Guy's Killing Edge- the sword that he never let leave his side. Guy would never have abandoned that blade, ever.
Memories of their first few days together welled up against her will. She could remember how Guy had been playing with the Killing Edge as if he were a child enjoying a new toy. She remembered how fearful she had been at first that he would injure himself somehow, and how Guy had continued messing with his sword until they had received new orders to move out. The Sacean Swordsman hadn't harmed himself at all, against all odds. It just showed how familiar he was with the weapon.
He would never have just left it carelessly in the dirt.
Caution was abandoned as Priscilla darted forward. She winced as her boot came down on something soft and firm, signaling that she hadn't stepped on the ground. She ignored the unease she felt and frantically tried to will some more light from her staff as her sphere of illumination pushed back the shadows around the Killing Edge.
Priscilla couldn't help but plead again that Guy would be alright, that he would have survived. She was frantically praying that his death would not be one sight she would have to see.
Finally, she was able to see everything. Her heart slowed.
The sword lay on the ground in two pieces. A mercenary lay next to the Killing Edge. His hair was as black as a raven's feathers.
Relief flooded through Priscilla. The Edge must have broken during the battle and Guy must have had to abandon it. There was no time for sentimentality towards objects on the battlefield, and one would have to have been a fool to risk one's life for a possession.
She didn't know how to react to that sight. The fact that it was not Guy lying next to the weapon was a source of some relief, but the fact that his prized sword lay on the ground meant that he had been out on the battlefield for some time unarmed. That was cause for concern.
Somewhat relieved and extremely concerned, Priscilla straightened and looked around. She was shocked to discover how close she was to the Elite's camp. In the time that had felt like an eternity, she had only moved forward a handful of steps. Now that she was paying attention, she could even hear Wil's voice being carried across the winds.
At the rate she was moving, she would be out here all night.
The thought sent another shiver up Priscilla's spine. She hoped that it wouldn't come to that.
The Valkyrie moved forward hesitantly, ignoring the looks and stares of the Morphs around her. It was unnerving, but something that she could overcome.
Of more concern to her was Guy's situation. If he had been weaponless on this battlefield, then there was no telling what had happened to him. Guy was extremely fast, and almost impossible to see or hit once he got going, but that meant nothing against these inhuman opponents. The Morphs were the ultimate fighters- they were all faster, stronger, and more cunning than any being had a right to be. And their inability to feel pain or emotion made them that much more deadly. It was all they could do to defeat the Morphs as a group, alone and defenseless there wouldn't be much chance.
An image of Guy, broken and dead on the battlefield came to her, and it was all Priscilla could do to force the thought away. She didn't know whether Guy was alive or dead, but she wouldn't rest until she did know. She just knew that she didn't want to see him if he were dead.
A sharp cry burst from the night, it was immediately followed by a sharp shriek from Priscilla's throat. Slowly, her heart began to calm, as did her breathing, once she realized that she had only heard the cry of a raven. It wasn't the scream of a dieing or wounded man, but the cry of a bird.
In the wake of that experience, Priscilla hesitated, feeling more than a touch concerned. Was this an omen? A raven was supposed to signify death or destruction. Was that what she was going to discover? Guy's death?
No, they had just overcome impossible odds to change their destiny, she could not blindly assume anything. She shook her head again, trying to block out this strange fear and hesitation that had come over her. Nergal was gone, dead... so why was this place making her so fearful? Why was she so afraid that Guy had perished while they were separated?
Another cry rent the air, and this time Priscilla's blood froze in her veins. That had not been the shout of an animal, nor that of a human. It was something that very few heard, but were incapable of forgetting. That was the twisted, shrieking scream of imitation vocal cords and a voice without emotion, purpose or will. That was the cry of a Morph.
Something moved behind her. Some sort of six sense, developed and honed in battle, warned her that something very bad was out there.
Priscilla broke free of her trance through sheer force of will and hurled herself to one side. Her move came just in time, and allowed her to clear the sudden swipe of an axe without injury. The Valkyrie crashed to the marshy ground, and scrambled to find enough purchase on the waterlogged land to control her tumble. Eventually, she came out of her slide and looked up to find a Morph fighter standing over her, with his axe raised high and his eyes emotionless.
As she frantically tried to form a basic fire spell, Priscilla struggled to escape from her attacker. The wet ground slowed her down and the twisted foliage grabbed at her clothing and hands, rendering her unable to move as quickly as she would have preferred. Finally, her spell came together and she was able to launch a blazing sphere of fire at her would-be assassin.
Her fireball, launched half on instinct and half by sight, went wide. The Morph didn't even have to try to dodge it. The abomination took one large step forward, positioning himself before his hapless target, and raised his axe high...
Another cry split the air.
This time it was the cry of a human- a decidedly angry human. A blur of blue motion sped through the air and lashed out with savage intensity. So quickly did this newcomer come and go than it appeared as if there were multiple copies of the same being trailing along in a long line.
The blue blur shot up to the Morph fighter and struck. The fighter didn't even have a chance to respond as he was deftly overpowered. Within a minute, the inhuman abomination crashed to the ground and lay still.
Only then did the newcomer slow enough to reconstitute into the familiar form of a Sacean with uncharacteristically wide eyes and a trail of long green hair.
For a long moment, nobody dared to move.
Then the man broke the stillness. He breathed a ragged sigh of relief and looked around with half-crazed eyes, indicative of a man who has just fought for his life- and barely retained it.
"Guy." Priscilla felt the proverbial wight roll from her shoulders, leaving her free of her crushing concerns. Guy was alive and doing well enough to be standing. Her fears had been entirely unfounded.
It was the best sight she could have ever seen, and she breathed a quick prayer of thanks for being able to witness it.
A sense of calmness settled upon the young Swordmaster, and the crazed gleam in Guy's eyes vanished as his regular boyishness returned. He was no longer fighting to live, the danger was over... and he could relax.
"Priscilla..." Guy seemed surprised, as if he'd only just recognized her presence. "I, uh, didn't scare you, did I?"
"Oh no." Priscilla felt a small smile creeping across her lips. "Its just... you're such a very good sight for sore eyes."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just... glad to see you."
The rest of her statement could go unsaid. She was very glad to see Guy alive and well, this was a sight she would treasure for the rest of her life.
--Fin--
A.N.: Well, there she be. I'm not entirely sure what to make of this puppy since I've never written Guy or Priscilla before, nor have I ever seriously considered their characters. Guy kinda has this 'I have a crush on you but can't admit it' thing going and Priscilla's a little tenacious about hounding him about it so... hopefully they weren't too out of character.
I'm not entirely sure why, but while working on another fic, ideas for all five senses just popped into my head from nowhere. So I'm going to try to get them written out fairly quickly.