Leviathan's Daughter
GoldenEagle
Author's Note: Hey, has anyone noticed how it's hard to get into FF.Net these days? Oh, another thing. I recently read a profile on Folken and there is a lot of stuff, especially with the dragon, that are not right from previous chapters. And in the future, I can say the same. But just look over it, pleeeassse? I'm trying my best and it is my story, so me, being the all powerful writer I am, can make changes. Right? *sweat drops* Oh, also, one of the section here, the one with Chawner, hopefully isn't too confusing. If it is, just say so and maybe I can explain in the next installment. Anywho, on with the story!
Chapter Twenty
She moaned. Fire. Why was she still on fire...?
"She's still running a fever, Lord Folken. Infection has set in. We can't seem to bring it down."
So thirsty... Her throat was dry, and yet her mouth was continually filled with hot, thick liquid...
"We can't get any food in her. We can't get any water to her. Apparently, the arrow punctured both her stomach and left lung. She's constantly coughing up blood. We can't stop the bleeding."
She was cold, and yet hot. Her body shivered, then wrenched violently into great shaking convulsions. Somehow, when she had lost control of the fire, she had lost control of a piece of her body and mind, as well...
"She's lapsing into constant seizures. They're draining the energy from her. Plus, they're getting more violent. We're afraid some of the spasms could kill her. Snap her neck, stop her breathing, affect her heart... It's all just a matter of time now."
Death paced in the back of her being like a prowling cat, coming forward in the worst of her pains, tempting her to reach out to it. And, many times, she would, but draw her hand back suddenly. But the seductive dance still was held and she realized dully that, when she was weakest, it would spring upon her, taking her, tired of giving the chance of her coming willingly. Still, it whispered her name. But she would not listen. There was a voice still echoing in her mind far sweeter and seductive than its own...
"But, it is quite amazing. A miracle she's still alive. She barely has any blood in her. She should have been dead long ago. It's like she has reached past her fate and has a firm, if small, grasp on immortality."
Through her veil of sleep and fever, she felt a warm, soft touch against her face. The chains of near death kept her from reacting physically, but inwardly, her soul trembled with longing to return the touch. 'Folken, wait for me. Don't leave me...'
Folken lifted from her, his lips warm from the touch of her fevered cheek. He sighed and sat back in a chair, not having slept since awaking from his loss of consciousness the day before. The doctors gave him a questioning look, but he made no movement. "I'm waiting for her to wake up. I'm staying here. With her."
*********
Long, callused fingers pressed against her neck, then opened her eyelids, checking her vital signs. They slid down the side of her cheek and the unconscious girl flinched at the familiar and painful memory they brought. They passed momentarily over her cracked and dry lips-
"Agh!" The man cried out as an iron grasp curled around his throat and he was pulled away from the girl. The tips of sharp talons punctured his skin. He looked up wildly at his assailant, clawing at the metal hand wrapped around his throat. His mouth opened silently in search of breath, but received none. A pale and long face met his, the eyes glowing with a protective rage, the lips set in a thin and rigid line. Dots of blackness floated into his vision as he felt his body begin to fade.
"Lord Folken, what the hell *are* you doing?!" The grasp loosened on his throat and he fell, coughing and sputtering on the floor. The man looked up at the creature that had just attacked him with a burning rage in his gaze. But Folken didn't seem to notice, his gaze focused on the speaker standing in the opposite direction.
"Who are you?" He said in a low, calm voice, his gaze floating down at the man gasping on the floor momentarily.
The silhouette in the doorway seemed to demand respect, giving off an unearthly amount of power. Folken saw his mouth twitch in a small quirk. "I'm Lieutenant Guren of the Inner Sector." The grey hair man said as he stepped forward. "Lord Dornkirk has sent us to bring the girl back with us."
Folken eyed the older man suspiciously, but turned quickly when a voice behind him broke him from his cautious gaze. The voice was slightly raspy, still recovering from its earlier onslaught. A tall man, surely not much older than him, stood with his shoulders slightly slumped. Black hair fell over piercing green eyes and he sneered as he spoke. "Lord Dornkirk believes that he can save her when your men cannot. Does this bother you, Lord Folken?" His voice had taken on a sarcastic tone. Folken's distaste in the boy was immediately restored, but he took a quick check of his anger.
"I apologize about my previous reaction. I had awoken to find someone in the room, touching Per- Lord Persephone." Folken said calmly. "I was only trying to protect her from an intruder."
Chawner, for that was his name, smirked in contempt. "Don't worry, Lord Folken. She is in the best of hands now."
"We must leave quickly." Guren said as he called in attendants to prepare Persephone for her travel. Folken was taken a little too quickly by all of this.
"But-"
"Do you want her to live or not?" Chawner growled. Folken gave one final glance at Persephone's form, which had taken to another seizure and nodded, the exhaustion clear and consuming in his eyes. He had done all he could for her. And it wasn't enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
Folken rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the migraine that was pushing and confusing his thoughts. "Look, I'm working on finding and correcting the small glitches in the invisibility cloaks. You need to give me more time." He growled, looking up through his bangs at the officer on the screen in front of him.
"This project was given to you three weeks ago, Lord Folken. I don't know what is on your mind, but you better get it resolved. I'm not seeing any more potential in your work thus far besides some shady promises. I expect to see results by next week." With that, the transmission ended.
Folken groaned, his head in his hands. Things were getting worse. His concentration was shattered, but he didn't know why- Hold that thought. He *did* know why, but it was a thought he did not want to contemplate. And yet his mind ticked off the numbers quickly, the facts, the doubts and fears.
Three and a half weeks ago, taken. He visited her often, the position his ship held only about a thirty minute flight from the base. Reports told of her health improving, but the seizures continued. She was weak. She was in some other ship, with strangers. Had she awaken? No. She had been in a coma like state from the beginning. Hopes were running low on her ever waking up. Folken slammed his metal fist down on the edge of his iron chair, denting the cool surface. He had to get a grip! Why did it matter so much to him? She was just another soldier. Sure, she had saved him, befriended him, trusted him... But so had his family, so had Fanalia! Did he stand around moaning and groaning about that? Yet still he couldn't push it out of his mind, her pale face clenched as she went into convulsions. He gritted his teeth. Why... Why should it matter? Why did it matter? She was just another person... Just his savior... Just Persephone... But he couldn't help but *just* loving her.
************
Moonlight streamed down, a woman stood, her babe in her arms. 'Two worlds, two fates, caught in-between. Trusting and doubting in the unseen. Child of mine, galaxies apart. Two worlds, two fates, one heart.' The song echoed through the recesses of Persephone's mind, the image of a woman's face staring down at her, two hazel eyes looking out through long, straight red hair. And above, in the distance, two moons, one a deathly white, the other a lively blend of green and blue. Persephone stirred in the back of her being. 'Mother...?'
Flashes burst into her mind, mostly of death and fire and blood, of those like her and their own betrayal. But in the end, she saw that young, gentle face looking down on her, tears falling from her wide, sad eyes. Wings of flame erupted in the background and then a white light surrounded them. She felt her form, so small in the vision, being lifted up, her mother's arms lifted up to her in a desperate and yet untrying plea for her. The last sight was of the attack from behind, the sword piercing the woman's side, but still that sad smile was there, for her. This red haired creature had admitted her defeat, falling to the ground in a pool of her own blood, her attacker staring up at the quickly disappearing babe. Persephone felt a violent upheaval swirl within her. 'No!' Her eyes flashed open and she sat up, only to fall down again, gasping for breath weakly. She focused her eyes quietly, trying to figure out where she was, the dream already fading from her immediate attention.
The room was dark and machines of all kinds whirred around her, the slightest beep of her pulse. Where was she? "Folken." She whispered, her eyes wide. She forced herself up, panic sweeping her as the familiarity of the room sunk in. "Folken!" She cried out, her fear all too evident. No answer came and she was left there, shivering and awaiting whatever may come next.
***********
Folken stood quickly from his chair, a very serious, very boring meeting taking place in the darkened room. Several sets of eyes focused on him from behind video screens, their voices going silent. Finally one spoke.
"Lord Folken, what *are* you doing?" The voice said quickly, annoyed.
"Excuse me gentlemen. I'm afraid I have some important business to take care of." He rushed out of the room, and once outside the door he broke into a run, a bizarre grin on his face. He skidded past a gawking soldier but turned quickly, almost falling on the slick floor. "Declare an order for the preparations of my guymelef." He said plainly before heading for docking. The young soldier's mouth hung open for a second.
"Ye-Yes, Lord Folken." With that, the boy ran over to one of the communication centers nearby and let out the order.
Folken felt giddy. He had felt a sudden consciousness in his being, a thing that he had not realized was missing till it had returned. He knew full well what it was, and his soul screamed her name wildly. 'Persephone! She's awake!' He felt like a child again, a part of him asking how he could be so sure by just a feeling. But he knew. And he was going to bring her back. Bring her back to him.
GoldenEagle
Author's Note: Hey, has anyone noticed how it's hard to get into FF.Net these days? Oh, another thing. I recently read a profile on Folken and there is a lot of stuff, especially with the dragon, that are not right from previous chapters. And in the future, I can say the same. But just look over it, pleeeassse? I'm trying my best and it is my story, so me, being the all powerful writer I am, can make changes. Right? *sweat drops* Oh, also, one of the section here, the one with Chawner, hopefully isn't too confusing. If it is, just say so and maybe I can explain in the next installment. Anywho, on with the story!
Chapter Twenty
She moaned. Fire. Why was she still on fire...?
"She's still running a fever, Lord Folken. Infection has set in. We can't seem to bring it down."
So thirsty... Her throat was dry, and yet her mouth was continually filled with hot, thick liquid...
"We can't get any food in her. We can't get any water to her. Apparently, the arrow punctured both her stomach and left lung. She's constantly coughing up blood. We can't stop the bleeding."
She was cold, and yet hot. Her body shivered, then wrenched violently into great shaking convulsions. Somehow, when she had lost control of the fire, she had lost control of a piece of her body and mind, as well...
"She's lapsing into constant seizures. They're draining the energy from her. Plus, they're getting more violent. We're afraid some of the spasms could kill her. Snap her neck, stop her breathing, affect her heart... It's all just a matter of time now."
Death paced in the back of her being like a prowling cat, coming forward in the worst of her pains, tempting her to reach out to it. And, many times, she would, but draw her hand back suddenly. But the seductive dance still was held and she realized dully that, when she was weakest, it would spring upon her, taking her, tired of giving the chance of her coming willingly. Still, it whispered her name. But she would not listen. There was a voice still echoing in her mind far sweeter and seductive than its own...
"But, it is quite amazing. A miracle she's still alive. She barely has any blood in her. She should have been dead long ago. It's like she has reached past her fate and has a firm, if small, grasp on immortality."
Through her veil of sleep and fever, she felt a warm, soft touch against her face. The chains of near death kept her from reacting physically, but inwardly, her soul trembled with longing to return the touch. 'Folken, wait for me. Don't leave me...'
Folken lifted from her, his lips warm from the touch of her fevered cheek. He sighed and sat back in a chair, not having slept since awaking from his loss of consciousness the day before. The doctors gave him a questioning look, but he made no movement. "I'm waiting for her to wake up. I'm staying here. With her."
*********
Long, callused fingers pressed against her neck, then opened her eyelids, checking her vital signs. They slid down the side of her cheek and the unconscious girl flinched at the familiar and painful memory they brought. They passed momentarily over her cracked and dry lips-
"Agh!" The man cried out as an iron grasp curled around his throat and he was pulled away from the girl. The tips of sharp talons punctured his skin. He looked up wildly at his assailant, clawing at the metal hand wrapped around his throat. His mouth opened silently in search of breath, but received none. A pale and long face met his, the eyes glowing with a protective rage, the lips set in a thin and rigid line. Dots of blackness floated into his vision as he felt his body begin to fade.
"Lord Folken, what the hell *are* you doing?!" The grasp loosened on his throat and he fell, coughing and sputtering on the floor. The man looked up at the creature that had just attacked him with a burning rage in his gaze. But Folken didn't seem to notice, his gaze focused on the speaker standing in the opposite direction.
"Who are you?" He said in a low, calm voice, his gaze floating down at the man gasping on the floor momentarily.
The silhouette in the doorway seemed to demand respect, giving off an unearthly amount of power. Folken saw his mouth twitch in a small quirk. "I'm Lieutenant Guren of the Inner Sector." The grey hair man said as he stepped forward. "Lord Dornkirk has sent us to bring the girl back with us."
Folken eyed the older man suspiciously, but turned quickly when a voice behind him broke him from his cautious gaze. The voice was slightly raspy, still recovering from its earlier onslaught. A tall man, surely not much older than him, stood with his shoulders slightly slumped. Black hair fell over piercing green eyes and he sneered as he spoke. "Lord Dornkirk believes that he can save her when your men cannot. Does this bother you, Lord Folken?" His voice had taken on a sarcastic tone. Folken's distaste in the boy was immediately restored, but he took a quick check of his anger.
"I apologize about my previous reaction. I had awoken to find someone in the room, touching Per- Lord Persephone." Folken said calmly. "I was only trying to protect her from an intruder."
Chawner, for that was his name, smirked in contempt. "Don't worry, Lord Folken. She is in the best of hands now."
"We must leave quickly." Guren said as he called in attendants to prepare Persephone for her travel. Folken was taken a little too quickly by all of this.
"But-"
"Do you want her to live or not?" Chawner growled. Folken gave one final glance at Persephone's form, which had taken to another seizure and nodded, the exhaustion clear and consuming in his eyes. He had done all he could for her. And it wasn't enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
Folken rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the migraine that was pushing and confusing his thoughts. "Look, I'm working on finding and correcting the small glitches in the invisibility cloaks. You need to give me more time." He growled, looking up through his bangs at the officer on the screen in front of him.
"This project was given to you three weeks ago, Lord Folken. I don't know what is on your mind, but you better get it resolved. I'm not seeing any more potential in your work thus far besides some shady promises. I expect to see results by next week." With that, the transmission ended.
Folken groaned, his head in his hands. Things were getting worse. His concentration was shattered, but he didn't know why- Hold that thought. He *did* know why, but it was a thought he did not want to contemplate. And yet his mind ticked off the numbers quickly, the facts, the doubts and fears.
Three and a half weeks ago, taken. He visited her often, the position his ship held only about a thirty minute flight from the base. Reports told of her health improving, but the seizures continued. She was weak. She was in some other ship, with strangers. Had she awaken? No. She had been in a coma like state from the beginning. Hopes were running low on her ever waking up. Folken slammed his metal fist down on the edge of his iron chair, denting the cool surface. He had to get a grip! Why did it matter so much to him? She was just another soldier. Sure, she had saved him, befriended him, trusted him... But so had his family, so had Fanalia! Did he stand around moaning and groaning about that? Yet still he couldn't push it out of his mind, her pale face clenched as she went into convulsions. He gritted his teeth. Why... Why should it matter? Why did it matter? She was just another person... Just his savior... Just Persephone... But he couldn't help but *just* loving her.
************
Moonlight streamed down, a woman stood, her babe in her arms. 'Two worlds, two fates, caught in-between. Trusting and doubting in the unseen. Child of mine, galaxies apart. Two worlds, two fates, one heart.' The song echoed through the recesses of Persephone's mind, the image of a woman's face staring down at her, two hazel eyes looking out through long, straight red hair. And above, in the distance, two moons, one a deathly white, the other a lively blend of green and blue. Persephone stirred in the back of her being. 'Mother...?'
Flashes burst into her mind, mostly of death and fire and blood, of those like her and their own betrayal. But in the end, she saw that young, gentle face looking down on her, tears falling from her wide, sad eyes. Wings of flame erupted in the background and then a white light surrounded them. She felt her form, so small in the vision, being lifted up, her mother's arms lifted up to her in a desperate and yet untrying plea for her. The last sight was of the attack from behind, the sword piercing the woman's side, but still that sad smile was there, for her. This red haired creature had admitted her defeat, falling to the ground in a pool of her own blood, her attacker staring up at the quickly disappearing babe. Persephone felt a violent upheaval swirl within her. 'No!' Her eyes flashed open and she sat up, only to fall down again, gasping for breath weakly. She focused her eyes quietly, trying to figure out where she was, the dream already fading from her immediate attention.
The room was dark and machines of all kinds whirred around her, the slightest beep of her pulse. Where was she? "Folken." She whispered, her eyes wide. She forced herself up, panic sweeping her as the familiarity of the room sunk in. "Folken!" She cried out, her fear all too evident. No answer came and she was left there, shivering and awaiting whatever may come next.
***********
Folken stood quickly from his chair, a very serious, very boring meeting taking place in the darkened room. Several sets of eyes focused on him from behind video screens, their voices going silent. Finally one spoke.
"Lord Folken, what *are* you doing?" The voice said quickly, annoyed.
"Excuse me gentlemen. I'm afraid I have some important business to take care of." He rushed out of the room, and once outside the door he broke into a run, a bizarre grin on his face. He skidded past a gawking soldier but turned quickly, almost falling on the slick floor. "Declare an order for the preparations of my guymelef." He said plainly before heading for docking. The young soldier's mouth hung open for a second.
"Ye-Yes, Lord Folken." With that, the boy ran over to one of the communication centers nearby and let out the order.
Folken felt giddy. He had felt a sudden consciousness in his being, a thing that he had not realized was missing till it had returned. He knew full well what it was, and his soul screamed her name wildly. 'Persephone! She's awake!' He felt like a child again, a part of him asking how he could be so sure by just a feeling. But he knew. And he was going to bring her back. Bring her back to him.