Well fuck me. I hate ff and its upload system. Idk how the hell he documents got switched. But the chapters were backwards. Im sorry to anyone reading and getting caught in my blunders. Anyway, the chapters have been fixed, and im sorry for ruining shit. For that, i will be posting the fixes, as well s additional chapter to he one that was spoiled, this week. Cuz fuck it, yall need some continuation instead of going backwards. whoever is reading this if anyone, please forgive me.
Oooooooooooooooooo
The Knight ejected from his previous standing in a blur leaving nothing but a burst of sand and gravel behind him. Farther down into the dips of crevices Diarmuid landed, the viper on his heels. His body curled so silver could carve into the vermin.
The move was almost useless given the condition of the weapon. The mere scratch looked like it was made by a cuddly kitten. It was only intrinsically that the blade caught on long fangs driving the raven haired warrior across the landscape. He was deathly close to the redhead's partner.
With deadly force, the warrior jackhammered his club into the soft underbelly hurtling the monstrosity into the rocky cliffside that exploded from the collision. The turf engulfed the length but the immediate crumbling told the two warriors it was a temporary hold.
Intuitive eyes mastered a plan to use geography and the ripped combatant in their favor, and both fighters in the brief respite fired safeguarding glimpses at their Detainers.
"Jaxon… was it?" Diarmuid said, pinning his lowered stare to the enemy who grunted back at him, "Is your strength capable of tossing the creature over the ledge?"
A simple nod told the inquisitive man his answer. His lack of speech reminded the former Servant of his Holy Grail war. This man's approach to battle was similar to that of a berserker: A manic fighting style with little intelligence and language. Even so, the man seemed coherent enough to take orders. Diarmuid could work with that.
The two contenders latched their attentiveness onto the serpent. "Then I shall act as bait to draw it towards the edge, on your ready!"
Azure orbs scrutinized the take off of their Knight. Fast as a falcon locked onto a mouse, the dark haired man swung that sword like a bat, aim wild and random. It only grazed the cobra enough for the wriggling animal to target its attacker.
Haley's leg shifted on the dry land. Is Diarmuid only using one hand? Eyes narrowed for further inspection of the speck that sped across the flat surface of the canyon. The left hand gripped a cracked steel while the other lay limp at his side.
Even with a handicap: it was difficult not to take notice how little the strains of a damaged body weighed the man down. The Knight on the battlefield was like a graceful dancer who had rehearsed the routine day in and out. Perfectly nimble and evasive: the performer gamboled the terrain, leaving dust clouds and wreckage where he once stood.
It was difficult for his partner to keep an eye on his movements, and she doubted their adversaries could as well. Haley wished that applied to the Cobra that was on his tail wrecking the Arena. Every so often its attention shifted, wide head angling to snap at Diarmuid, while the other half grazed the ground in a swoop to keep the other two where they stood. She herself was concealed behind the stonework, only adjusting her position when the snake's back was to her, or threatened to blow her cover to bits.
The view of greenery layering the brook in the gorge confirmed the Irish Knight he arrived at his destination. Few meters from the edge he the land serpent emerged before him and halted, as if understanding in its own miniscule brain the plan. With the burly man's heavy feet that trampled at the rear of the coiled tail, Diarmuid darted for the animal.
Blows were furiously traded with the head of the bared fanged beast. In its fury, acid saliva spread like wildfire and pelted down on. Like a horror movie, shrill shrieks were released from the mottled woman too close to the battle.
As if his companion's scream evoked some sort of lunacy, the stocky man lunged forward. The snake's body retracted backwards. Like a damn laso—which seemed almost impossible given the grand length and smaller frame that whipped it—the snake spun a single time from Jaxon's gastronomic grip.
The dark haired man's eyes bulged. The toss was calculatingly short and low.
Frig hell!
With haste, Diarmuid ducked and rolled from the throw— The ground around his siding frame burst and crumbled under the final slap of the behemoth's tail.
His Master's wale reverberated in the canyon just as he barely nabbed the cliffside's edge with a single, flailing hand. The sword, already a long ways down. Eyebrows scrunched together, and eyes closed from the sweat that leaked into his lids. Diarmuid with a huff, chest burning from the crack it made against the edge, channeled all his strength to his biceps and swung his dangling legs back onto the dusty surface.
If he had been a second, a galling second slower, The Knight's entire body would have been lost to the canyon's pit. That were no accident: the bastard purposefully meant to send him to his spirits' final outcome.
Haley's heart was frozen in time. There was no way she would have made it in time. She was only half way to her mark when the locker to Diarmuid's heart banged against the mountain's edge. Her breath finally went out, but not before the king-sized man hurtled towards her.
Curses left her lips. She was a deer being chased by a tiger but with nowhere to run. That brawny man's weapon smashed the Arena where she departed like it was meat under a cleaver!
"Leave me the hell alone!" Haley snarled, diving out of the way of another massive slam. "Stop it!" she shrieked, just as her insides joined her.
Deranged eyes stared the frail woman down. She was cornered like a mouse, and her gut was on a roller coaster ride. Haley caught only a glimpse of the man's injured Detainer in the back, clutching wounds that required desperate healing.
Haley jammed her eyelids shut. Hope and fear awkwardly mingled together, and her entire being sought for her Knight to rescue her. "DIARMUID!"
In the time it took for the Irishman to balance himself back onto the sand and onto his feet: That damn Jaxon pounced on Haley like a lion. Internally he berated himself for trusting his enemy so closely. He should damn know better after all the betrayal he endured thanks to such things.
He closed the clearing in seconds, shielding the girl who cried his name. Diarmuid threw up his damaged arm and bones cracked from the collision of steel and meat. Against his broken body's objections, he footed the man clean in his exposed entrails.
Not letting up for a second, like a panther he pounced on the recuperating enemy and snagged his own weapon right from its traitorous, unsuspecting hands. His woman's scratchy voice yelped for them to cease their quarrel, but it fell upon deaf ears. The bloodthirst was palpable in the man's blood-red orbs and drool filled lips.
Diarmuid comprehended this deranged look and actually pitied the damn soul. Had he not once looked the same, hell, pathetically even twice ? Course his pathetic countenance had been leaking blood not spit, but the details were unneeded. This man was heavily cursed, and it seemed their skirmish somehow set it off.
Now the Knight could place the familiar face of the foe that attempted to pummel out his innards in reply to being dearmed, but Diarmuid was faster, and he leveled the weapon down on a hard skull before anyone watching could blink.
The two warriors were disconnected, and the battered man thought to be down from the head wound, bounced back like a spring.
Diarmuid practically growled as the sheer movement required disastrous reflexes on his part. Swinging his arm to clobber the swat the fiend in the jaw felt like swinging lead.
"Stop this—! If you are able, tend to your Master! Should she not come first considering her state?!" Haley's Knight reasoned, as the dislodged jaw clicked when the man shakily brought himself to his feet.
Fatigued steps traveled to the woman gripping marred flesh through the melted, crimson dipped green tank top. "Call him off! This… this is pointless!"
The woman's cherry locks shook calmly, "I can't. When he is like that…" The woman paused, as if recollecting painful memories in the way she topped her shorts, "I can't control him."
"What about a command seal? Can't you—"
Arms lifted over her ginger head and revealed pale, freckled arms, "I have already used the one. That curse..it's... unmanageable ." She said finally with remorse.
Balled up fists quivered at each side of Haley's stringy frame. Could she do it? Should she?
She turned her attention to the warriors brawling it out. Diarmuid had just jerked the weapon into the man's right thigh, bringing him onto his knee. The man easily lashed back at him aiming for throat. He was on a rampage, and Diarmuid was desperately attempting to find means to bring him down without finality she would presume.
So no. Doing so would require getting in proximity, which judging by how fiercely that madman just knocked into Diarmuid's ankles…
Haley took a couple steps back, at a loss of what to do. They were going to kill each other at this rate—or in this Limbo's case—cease body function signalling those horrid Shadows. And for what purpose ?
Before the distraught woman could think on it further: Manic eyes attached to a man hovering over a wrestling Diarmuid skewered hers. Like a dart aiming for its target, the demented man charged to his mark.
Diarmuid rolled into a crouching position and with eyes like an eagle, launched the mallet like an axe. The back of the weapon stampeding the man's skull. It thundered so loud from the strike, even the bystanders of the tournament would probably hear. The man's face snuggled dirt almost instantly from the contact.
A foot away from Haley, Jaxon collapsed face first into the sand with a beast's snarl. The thunderstruck woman's eyes and mouth dropped with him. Was he..? To save her.. was that hit strong enough...?
"No way…! Jaxon you can't…!" The woman who reclined in the sand scurried to her fallen partner. "You can still fight! Come on!" Blemished hands palpated the limp figure, whose eyes flickered, then went dim.
Haley limped over, organs still churning in disdain after being gutted like a pig. That absent stare: she had seen it before, across the features of a stunning woman.
"No… he's.." The words themselves silenced Haley from continuing her statement. There was shame in her sullen eyes, but... that man was beyond help. She would have been killed. Still, that left no room relief, and only remorse filled her heart.
Pure resentment contoured the woman's countenance, and the psychic completely empathized. She too would wear that look if the same happened to Diarmuid, who stood idly at bay.
Haley leveled her bleak stare with the Knight's troubled one. She knew what those dismal orbs were asking her, but she failed to give them an answer. With her partner out of the Round, the woman could strike back. She was a danger to them, just as he was.
However, returning her attentiveness to the pair at their feet, she saw no fight in that beaten woman's amber eyes.
Fists still clenched at her sides, Haley huffed a deciding breath with tightly shut lids.
Fuck this damn place. She thought, and knelt to the cursed man's side. The telekinetic wasn't doing this to protect anyone. It no way impeded on the rules for her to be helpless against the Arena. This act of defiance was against whatever spell casted this man.
A nod to the pair of lovers that aided her despite not having to.
Haley felt the suspicious glare ripping her to shreds. She paid no mind however the woman was mentally ripping her apart. Instead, she focused on her magical circuits, and placed a sweaty hand on the man's back. " Heile diesen Fluch."
"What the hell are you…!" The woman almost snapped, but halted her verbal assaults at what her sight registered.
Infernal magic in a dusky cloud, puffed like myst on a dewy morning. It slowly mystified itself within the red haired woman who lightly trembled from its ferocity. After it channelled through her, a spark emitted from her palms, and the darkness that shrouded the man dissipated into the earth.
Jaxon's muscles twitched, and the wine in his eyes washed away like blood flowing in a river. Emerald eyes brightened before flaps slowly covered them. Eyebrows once mashed together raised, and a long smile spread across thick lips.
Haley choked out a breath, letting her hands fall to her curves. "He… is at peace, now." She said flatly, and then gripped her inner strength to not sway as she stood. "I'm… sorry I couldn't do more."
Crystal eyes locked with their bewildered Knight, and then dropped to the curse healer's hole filled boots. Before anyone could question her, Haley strutted off past Diarmuid, whose gaze only followed her a few steps away. She stopped a far few feet, not really knowing where in the world she was going. She just needed to be anywhere but th ere .
Diarmuid was at a loss for words. What she performed… was.. it even permitted?
His awestruck gander lowered to the woman and her friend. She seemed just as astonished as he, but yet she seemed to understand what had transpired. His Lady had just extracted the curse plaguing that forsaken man.
The quashed woman's gaze snapped to his hands like they were weapons ready to strike when Diarmuid raised his left—and only working—hand to his nape in disbelief.
"Wait..! P-Please.. Just leave us be.." she stuttered, embracing the stiff man beneath her, "Just.. a few more minutes with him.. " that was all she wanted, before the shadows took her brother away. With bitterness seeping into her tone, she added, "And then.. You can finish me."
Mystified again, Diarmuid casually brought his hand to his side. This lady does not know his noble principles. To… attack someone in such a state as herself was not something he would consider, unless she struck first. Plus—his gaze subtly turned to the woman who waited for him then back to her—there was a lady he quite respected who would agree. Even if this chivalrous decision were to bite them later.
He dipped over his arm, "Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you here. It would sully the honor my Master and I have set for ourselves." He spared a final, grieving glance to the man he ended just moments before and then back to the face of the surprised woman, "However, if you choose to target us, we shall do what we must."
The weapon separating the two competitors stared up at Diarmuid, tempting him to lift it into his capable hand. Though another careful look at the woman convinced him with her injuries, she needed it just as much as he.
"Thanks..I guess.." The woman stated in a garbled whisper. His letting her go was a strange decision. She may be maimed in places, but she was not incompastited and without her brother… she was free to attack them as she saw fit.
It didn't matter. When she removed her slant from her kin, the Forsaken only dipped once more and retracted to his Detainer. It was not like she could maneuver through his inhuman speed with her Gandr shots and other projectile tactics, anyway. When she restored her scrutiny to the fallen beneath her, the howling of Shadows lurking behind, she decided not to care.
At least… Jaxon was granted peace he longed for. And she would forever be grateful to that girl for that.
Settling on the wavy, rocky slope, Haley buried her face in her hands. How much more stupid can she be? This was a damn tournament to the death: not a peace rally. She was here for one person, not to aid them all.
But still… That man was being tormented from the inside out. Reduced to pure madness by some of the simplest of curses. Well, at least the Arena didn't reduce her to ashes or something for helping him.
"Are you mad…?" Haley mumbled into her damp hands.
"No…Confused, maybe." Diarmuid hesitated a moment, casting his gaze to the sky that peeled open like a tangerine. The merigold sphere descending in the sky. "What was the purpose of healing that man's curse?"
"I.. It's in my nature. I see a curse, and I want to fix it.. And.." It was so hard to form a coherent thought with the sun beating down on her so hard. "Why not? That man was being eaten alive by it… even if it was for a moment: I could give him the amity he was missing."
Her Knight inclined his head in recognition. "Ah, so out of the kindness of your heart, then?" He smiled.
"Did I make the wrong choice? Should.. We have finished them there instead..?" Haley asked, removing her face from the cups of her hands, exhaustion tugging down on her eyelids.
"It was slightly foolish to go to such lengths, considering the risk that accompanied it. However," Diarmuid forced himself to sit, the ache finally winning the battle over his limbs, "It is who you are. We can sit here and dwell on the matter, or we can move forward and handle what comes our way."
A ripple in Arena's air, similar to that of the oceans' waves propped a bowl of water and a gleaming rock into Haley's thighs. She unfurled the note that was rolled into the fabric.
For Diarmuid's arm and your abdomen. He will know what to do.
Haley looked to Diarmuid for answers to the subtle note and saw a flicker of joy tint his hues, "It is a Quartz crystal. They are from celtic legend, known for healing properties."
"Oh, how do we use it?" Haley asked,peering at the multi edges silver mineral.
"The water absorbs properties from the gem, you can just apply it to the place needed for healing. It is limited, so we should take care with where we apply it."
"Well, they gave specifics, might as well follow them." The solemn woman said, carefully pouring a generous amount of the liquid down the length of his right arm. The rest dampened her midsection, and the items disappeared.
As the round ball of bright light ducked behind foggy plains of auburn columns, Diarmuid's legs crossed over the other on the hills of smooth rocks. He admired the magical essence, waiting for whatever was to provoke them next. Granted, weapons were scarce, and he undoubtedly wished the remainder of their final day were quiet. That the lowering sun would grace them more than just beautiful views.
"I think this terrain is my personal favorite. Well, in terms of landscape, anyway." Haley admitted, standing next to the cross legged Knight. Even if her spirits were still dampered, she wanted to at least try to lighten her and his mood. "You kind of get lost in the vast space."
"Indeed. I've transcended time and space, and yet still it is nature that captivates my heart, imitation or no."
Admiral colors batted away residual warmth, replacing the overcast with peppered light, and coyotes sun songs to the rising moon. Rumbles were carried in the canyons, and Diarmuid spotted flickering lights across the way. Adversaries must be in battle. He thought, as hairs pricked.
Haley hunkered behind the raven haired man, pressing her back against the dampness of his own. Torn legs arched while she folded her hands over her knees.
With nothing else left to do but wait for the conclusion of the round, Haley conversed with her Knight. After observing that quick glimmer of hope from the kick back to celtic times, she was curious to hear stories of his land and era. Their events to this moment in time have always centered around her or the haunting past that plagued Diarmuid's mind: so naturally she wanted to be gifted with tales of the Irish Warrior that granted him his own peace.
Diarmuid's heart quickened against his ribcage, thinking of stories of his time on earth to bess the lady with. What would satisfy her curiosity? Might he tell her the comedic stories of himself and the Knights of the Fianna? Maybe a hardy tale to lift her her heavy heart? Definitely not his journey with Grainne, even if his heroism in the modern era were centered there. He believed she knew enough of those events from his memories, anyhow. "What.. would you like to know, my Lady?"
"What do you want to tell me? I'll listen to anything." She whispered softly, trying to manage her growing drowsiness.
Anything… He echoed in his thoughts, dreaming of great wines, his brothers hardy laughs that brimmed the chambers of the castle. Hunting trips across the wilderness in Ireland, and the small lodges that sheltered them in their travels. The time he truly had been in love.
No, even that were a tale he was mildly known from. Surely she was gifted with that recollection as well. So he gazed at the stars above, and told her of the battle at the Gord alongside his fellow Knight, Conan Mhaol. While Diarmuid stood Guard, three Kings asked to cross the Ford with threat to his great Lord, Fionn.
Diarmuid rebuked quietly that he shall only grant them to pass if they allowed him to slay the King of the World. Against their army of six hundred men, the Knight fought the warriors, easily taking them down.
"That magical Island had some great battles." He stated simply, realizing that the Lady was not too fond of his… dealings against the enemy.
"It's crazy incredible how strong you are. A single man taking down armies," Haley shook her head in disbelief, "What else? I.. I want to hear everything."
Joyful recollection of the Irish man's valour soothed Haley's troubled mind. It felt like time was at a standstill whenever she was with her Knight. She could harmonize when he recounted his days until Earth stopped spinning.
Diarmuid was euphoric in his retelling and she was enamored by how much of a chatter box he actually was. A couple of hand jerks and signals emphasizing his stories of passion, battles, and adventure. His posture was easy going and invited the world around him to join his happiness.
Haley swiveled. Hands from her side relocated to the rough ones telling of the best berries that a Giant looked after and intertwined them together. She felt him still, but curled their intertwined fingers to his rising sternum.
"So.. these berries…?" She said gently, resting her forehead in between his damp shoulder blades that finally how the desert heat even warmed his cool body. More happiness filled her soul when his fingers gave in, and relaxed upon hers.
Heterochromia eyes traced the milky way. This was not the first time he held her hands, so why had this particular moment turned him into jelly? Make his heart quiver like a coward? Diarmuid refused that idiocy. He was retelling his life, and never were he so.. Reluctant. He allowed his fingertips to knead the top of her knuckles. A mellow display of his fondness.
The knight carried forward to tell her of Ireland's best fruit. All the while, he made a decision. He may be a Spirit long passed, but he was also Diarmuid ua Duibhne. He grew tired of resisting what his heart told him.
He would be true to himself and who he was trying to be. And it all started, with the woman pressed against him.