Playing God
By GoldenEagle
Chapter Four: Playing Nurse
All was silent, no breeze to carry away the stench of death, no breath to be heard. That is, except for over a stone altar, where two forms lay, unconscious. And then, among the stillness of the scene, there could be seen movement, and there could be heard a groan.
Siren shifted, her eyes closed, her back racing with pain. She tried to move, but couldn't, feeling as if a heavy weight had been distributed over her entire body. She opened her eyes suddenly, afraid that maybe the fall had rendered her paralyzed, but froze. The boy, the strange one, with silver hair and pale skin, lay on top of her, weighing her down. With a bit of effort, she pushed him off. She hissed as her back shot with pain, and she lay there, a few more moments, before she decided to move. She took in a deep breath as she took in the scene around her.
About the altar, hundreds, no, surely *thousands*, of corpses lay scattered about. The battle must have passed a while back, because the smell of rotting flesh could already be detected, and not a soul was left on the field. Siren jumped as she heard a low moan next to her. She turned to look down at the boy, who was now on his back. Her shirt wrapped around his wound had long been soaked in the blood. She contemplated her choices for a moment. Obviously, she wasn't in California anymore. And yet, was there anywhere that she knew of that was going through a war that left so many behind? She glanced up to calm her thoughts, but her thoughts went astray instead as she saw two moons in the sky, one looking strangely like earth...
"So, I'm on a different planet. That's not too weird." She muttered before looking back down to the unconscious form of the boy next to her. 'He'll only get in the way,' she thought. 'I should just leave him here.' But, instead, she let out a heavy sigh before attempting to pick the boy up. She only succeeded in dragging him off of the ledge of the altar. She winced as she heard his head hit the stone below with a loud crack, but continued dragging him, slowly, into the forest. At the edge of the clearing, she let him go and ran back to where they had been, wincing at the pain in her back. She picked up her bag and jumped a little as a small, curious head poked out.
"George." She muttered as the primate chattered and ran up her arm and back around her neck, squealing in complaint at the bad smelling scenery.
***************
Dillandau moaned, opening his eyes. It felt as if fire was coursing through his veins, and he felt so weak that he could hardly move. There was a strange knot on the back of his head, one he hadn't remembered getting. He dully brought his hand to his stomach, where he found the wound that had almost killed him, twice, sown up with a soft, weak thread. He turned his head to the side.
He was surrounded by large, thick trees and soft grass. He could hear the sound of running water, maybe even a waterfall. He lay there a few more minutes before pushing himself up weakly and then standing, the world spinning around him. He blinked slowly a few times before gripping the trees as he started to walk to where he heard the running water. The first rays of dawn were poking their head up over the horizon as he came to the river, or creek, for it wasn't that large. Yet, as he took the scene in more fully, he froze. In the middle of the running water, only waste deep in the water, stood the girl, her body shining in the early morning light, making her skin glow, accenting her curves, her bare, round breasts-
Dillandau found he had stopped breathing and so he hissed in a breath. The slight noise caught the ears of the girl below and she looked up at him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had no clothes on. The fever and shocking scene caused the boy's head to spin and he sat down promptly, leaning a burning cheek against the tree he had been leaning on. Surely... Surely the girl would dress and then apologize-
Dillandau's breath caught in his chest and his eyes widened as she approached him, the water streaming down her bare skin, her silvery blonde hair clinging to her face. He closed his eyes. "Gods, you are such a sexy bitch, you know that?" He hissed out, fully aware that she couldn't understand him. He opened his eyes slowly, only to find an eyebrow cocked and recognition in her eyes. Recognition... of... what he had just... Holy shit...
She knelt down in front of his sitting form. "I'd watch what you say, child. I'm very, *very* off limits, got it?" He looked at her with wide, confused eyes. The fever in his veins wasn't helping him think.
"You-you... can... understand me?" He stuttered, his tongue thick in his own mouth, his thoughts flitting away from him, being enveloped by the heat that was radiating throughout his body from the wound.
She hesitated before answering. "I guess so. I didn't earlier, but... I guess whatever magic brought us here did this, too." She muttered. Dillandau flinched as she drew closer to him, reaching past him. He clenched his eyes closed. The boy's reaction was met with mocking laughter. His eyes snapped open pridefully. "You're sitting on my clothes, child." She said, a smirk on her face. It took a few moments before her words soaked in. He stumbled to the side before sitting down again.
After a few more moments of him trying to ignore the girl dressing next to him and him trying to take control of his fevered body, he just lay down, the sun shining brightly over him. "So... Who are you?" He heard a feminine voice ask brightly beside him. He turned his head to the side and looked at her, only a few inches away, her head propped up by her arm as she lay on her side. She was wearing almost all the same clothes she had been wearing when he had first seen her. Blood was still smeared across her genes. Though still slightly unnerving, he was relieved that she had donned a small top, though only a bra, for her shirt had been used to hold close his wound.
"I am Lord Dillandau Albatou, leader of the Dragon Slayers, warrior of the Zaibach empire." He said. The words were slurred yet still held tones of pride, giving his introduction a comical tone.
"And I'm Siren. I mean," She deepened her voice slightly, mocking his pride, "I am Lady Siren, role model to all aspiring serial killers, the most largely sought out murderer on the West coast of America." She laughed. Her laughter disgruntled Dillandau, for it held an undertone that lacked sanity. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence ensued.
"Ugh." Dillandau moaned, leaning his head up and fidgeting as a sharp pain raced from his stomach throughout his entire body. He put his hand to the wound, feeling the small stitches there, before opening his eyes a slit, the sky above still clouded with smoke from the battlefield he had almost died on. Now that he had thought of it, he could smell a certain unpleasant smell in the air, like rancid meat.
"You... closed my wound?" He asked.
"Yes. I took Home Ec. before... Well, I used to take it. I never go anywhere without needle and thread now, though I doubt that the string I used will do much good for very long."
Another awkward paused passed. He was distracted from his thoughts as the tips of four hesitant fingers touched his forehead.
"You're burning up." Siren stated plainly. "Help me." She muttered.
"With what?!" He snapped, an odd clarity coming over him suddenly. "I'm dying, for the gods' sakes! And you, asking for favors-"
"I need you to help me get you up, you moron!" She snapped back just as testily before pulling him up.
"Oh." He said through a grimace as she pulled him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her, his face down. His cheeks grew even more red as he was faced with her cleavage, a perfect view from where he was. He licked his lips nervously as he noticed her knowing stare on him.
"So," she said as the approached the edge of the water and then stepped in, the cold stream brushing across Dillandau's bare feet. She was helping him lay down on the bank, his head the only thing on shore, before she finished her sentence. "You're a virgin."
The statement pulled Dillandau's pleasant thoughts of the cool water on his fevered body away. He looked up, surprised, only to be met by a smirking face. "I am not!" He hissed.
"Yes, you are. Don't try to lie to me. I can tell." Her voice was a warning that she did not put up with dishonesty from other's she found below herself.
He growled out, half in momentary pain as the cold water bit into his wound and half in bruised pride. "I'm a great soldier in the Zaibach army in times of war. I have no time for such things."
"And I assume you don't have very many girl's around, huh?"
He didn't answer because a small, moving fur-ball had attacked his face, scampering on top of his cheeks and nose and mouth, leaning over and sniffing, placing incredibly small hands forward, gripping the warrior's nose and nasal passages as it pushed forward to stare and chatter at the two wide, horrified, and grey eyes of its victim.
"Get it off! Get it-" Dillandau coughed and spit as he got the creature's fur in his mouth. With a last effort of strength he reached up and tossed the creature from his face. It screeched and ran to its owner, Siren, crawling up around her shoulders before chattering down angrily at the mean boy below him. "Gods, can't you get rid of that damn fur-ball?! I'll kill it myself if I have to and eat its brains for a snack-" His breathing had grown quicker, more shallow.
Siren frowned down at his being so rude to her pet. "It's George." She paused as she noticed how pale the boy was as he opened his mouth to rant some more. "Calm down. God damn it, I said calm the fuck down!" She growled, covering his cold lips with her fingers. He stared up at her, wheezing in, his eyes garnet in rage at her words. "You're temper is going to kill you." She said through a clenched jaw.
"What the hell are you talking about?" He growled through trembling lips, still overpowered with rage. No sooner had the words left his lips that a terrible fit of coughing push through him, horrible, and he turned his head to the side. Blood flowed from his mouth momentarily and he was suddenly dizzy.
"You're over exciting yourself. I'll go out to look for someone to take care of you, maybe even find someone working for this 'Zaibach' of yours. Just relax." She said coldly, as if speaking to an annoying dog that won't quit licking itself in front of guests. He closed his eyes before darkness welcomed him into a dreamless sleep.
By GoldenEagle
Chapter Four: Playing Nurse
All was silent, no breeze to carry away the stench of death, no breath to be heard. That is, except for over a stone altar, where two forms lay, unconscious. And then, among the stillness of the scene, there could be seen movement, and there could be heard a groan.
Siren shifted, her eyes closed, her back racing with pain. She tried to move, but couldn't, feeling as if a heavy weight had been distributed over her entire body. She opened her eyes suddenly, afraid that maybe the fall had rendered her paralyzed, but froze. The boy, the strange one, with silver hair and pale skin, lay on top of her, weighing her down. With a bit of effort, she pushed him off. She hissed as her back shot with pain, and she lay there, a few more moments, before she decided to move. She took in a deep breath as she took in the scene around her.
About the altar, hundreds, no, surely *thousands*, of corpses lay scattered about. The battle must have passed a while back, because the smell of rotting flesh could already be detected, and not a soul was left on the field. Siren jumped as she heard a low moan next to her. She turned to look down at the boy, who was now on his back. Her shirt wrapped around his wound had long been soaked in the blood. She contemplated her choices for a moment. Obviously, she wasn't in California anymore. And yet, was there anywhere that she knew of that was going through a war that left so many behind? She glanced up to calm her thoughts, but her thoughts went astray instead as she saw two moons in the sky, one looking strangely like earth...
"So, I'm on a different planet. That's not too weird." She muttered before looking back down to the unconscious form of the boy next to her. 'He'll only get in the way,' she thought. 'I should just leave him here.' But, instead, she let out a heavy sigh before attempting to pick the boy up. She only succeeded in dragging him off of the ledge of the altar. She winced as she heard his head hit the stone below with a loud crack, but continued dragging him, slowly, into the forest. At the edge of the clearing, she let him go and ran back to where they had been, wincing at the pain in her back. She picked up her bag and jumped a little as a small, curious head poked out.
"George." She muttered as the primate chattered and ran up her arm and back around her neck, squealing in complaint at the bad smelling scenery.
***************
Dillandau moaned, opening his eyes. It felt as if fire was coursing through his veins, and he felt so weak that he could hardly move. There was a strange knot on the back of his head, one he hadn't remembered getting. He dully brought his hand to his stomach, where he found the wound that had almost killed him, twice, sown up with a soft, weak thread. He turned his head to the side.
He was surrounded by large, thick trees and soft grass. He could hear the sound of running water, maybe even a waterfall. He lay there a few more minutes before pushing himself up weakly and then standing, the world spinning around him. He blinked slowly a few times before gripping the trees as he started to walk to where he heard the running water. The first rays of dawn were poking their head up over the horizon as he came to the river, or creek, for it wasn't that large. Yet, as he took the scene in more fully, he froze. In the middle of the running water, only waste deep in the water, stood the girl, her body shining in the early morning light, making her skin glow, accenting her curves, her bare, round breasts-
Dillandau found he had stopped breathing and so he hissed in a breath. The slight noise caught the ears of the girl below and she looked up at him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had no clothes on. The fever and shocking scene caused the boy's head to spin and he sat down promptly, leaning a burning cheek against the tree he had been leaning on. Surely... Surely the girl would dress and then apologize-
Dillandau's breath caught in his chest and his eyes widened as she approached him, the water streaming down her bare skin, her silvery blonde hair clinging to her face. He closed his eyes. "Gods, you are such a sexy bitch, you know that?" He hissed out, fully aware that she couldn't understand him. He opened his eyes slowly, only to find an eyebrow cocked and recognition in her eyes. Recognition... of... what he had just... Holy shit...
She knelt down in front of his sitting form. "I'd watch what you say, child. I'm very, *very* off limits, got it?" He looked at her with wide, confused eyes. The fever in his veins wasn't helping him think.
"You-you... can... understand me?" He stuttered, his tongue thick in his own mouth, his thoughts flitting away from him, being enveloped by the heat that was radiating throughout his body from the wound.
She hesitated before answering. "I guess so. I didn't earlier, but... I guess whatever magic brought us here did this, too." She muttered. Dillandau flinched as she drew closer to him, reaching past him. He clenched his eyes closed. The boy's reaction was met with mocking laughter. His eyes snapped open pridefully. "You're sitting on my clothes, child." She said, a smirk on her face. It took a few moments before her words soaked in. He stumbled to the side before sitting down again.
After a few more moments of him trying to ignore the girl dressing next to him and him trying to take control of his fevered body, he just lay down, the sun shining brightly over him. "So... Who are you?" He heard a feminine voice ask brightly beside him. He turned his head to the side and looked at her, only a few inches away, her head propped up by her arm as she lay on her side. She was wearing almost all the same clothes she had been wearing when he had first seen her. Blood was still smeared across her genes. Though still slightly unnerving, he was relieved that she had donned a small top, though only a bra, for her shirt had been used to hold close his wound.
"I am Lord Dillandau Albatou, leader of the Dragon Slayers, warrior of the Zaibach empire." He said. The words were slurred yet still held tones of pride, giving his introduction a comical tone.
"And I'm Siren. I mean," She deepened her voice slightly, mocking his pride, "I am Lady Siren, role model to all aspiring serial killers, the most largely sought out murderer on the West coast of America." She laughed. Her laughter disgruntled Dillandau, for it held an undertone that lacked sanity. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence ensued.
"Ugh." Dillandau moaned, leaning his head up and fidgeting as a sharp pain raced from his stomach throughout his entire body. He put his hand to the wound, feeling the small stitches there, before opening his eyes a slit, the sky above still clouded with smoke from the battlefield he had almost died on. Now that he had thought of it, he could smell a certain unpleasant smell in the air, like rancid meat.
"You... closed my wound?" He asked.
"Yes. I took Home Ec. before... Well, I used to take it. I never go anywhere without needle and thread now, though I doubt that the string I used will do much good for very long."
Another awkward paused passed. He was distracted from his thoughts as the tips of four hesitant fingers touched his forehead.
"You're burning up." Siren stated plainly. "Help me." She muttered.
"With what?!" He snapped, an odd clarity coming over him suddenly. "I'm dying, for the gods' sakes! And you, asking for favors-"
"I need you to help me get you up, you moron!" She snapped back just as testily before pulling him up.
"Oh." He said through a grimace as she pulled him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her, his face down. His cheeks grew even more red as he was faced with her cleavage, a perfect view from where he was. He licked his lips nervously as he noticed her knowing stare on him.
"So," she said as the approached the edge of the water and then stepped in, the cold stream brushing across Dillandau's bare feet. She was helping him lay down on the bank, his head the only thing on shore, before she finished her sentence. "You're a virgin."
The statement pulled Dillandau's pleasant thoughts of the cool water on his fevered body away. He looked up, surprised, only to be met by a smirking face. "I am not!" He hissed.
"Yes, you are. Don't try to lie to me. I can tell." Her voice was a warning that she did not put up with dishonesty from other's she found below herself.
He growled out, half in momentary pain as the cold water bit into his wound and half in bruised pride. "I'm a great soldier in the Zaibach army in times of war. I have no time for such things."
"And I assume you don't have very many girl's around, huh?"
He didn't answer because a small, moving fur-ball had attacked his face, scampering on top of his cheeks and nose and mouth, leaning over and sniffing, placing incredibly small hands forward, gripping the warrior's nose and nasal passages as it pushed forward to stare and chatter at the two wide, horrified, and grey eyes of its victim.
"Get it off! Get it-" Dillandau coughed and spit as he got the creature's fur in his mouth. With a last effort of strength he reached up and tossed the creature from his face. It screeched and ran to its owner, Siren, crawling up around her shoulders before chattering down angrily at the mean boy below him. "Gods, can't you get rid of that damn fur-ball?! I'll kill it myself if I have to and eat its brains for a snack-" His breathing had grown quicker, more shallow.
Siren frowned down at his being so rude to her pet. "It's George." She paused as she noticed how pale the boy was as he opened his mouth to rant some more. "Calm down. God damn it, I said calm the fuck down!" She growled, covering his cold lips with her fingers. He stared up at her, wheezing in, his eyes garnet in rage at her words. "You're temper is going to kill you." She said through a clenched jaw.
"What the hell are you talking about?" He growled through trembling lips, still overpowered with rage. No sooner had the words left his lips that a terrible fit of coughing push through him, horrible, and he turned his head to the side. Blood flowed from his mouth momentarily and he was suddenly dizzy.
"You're over exciting yourself. I'll go out to look for someone to take care of you, maybe even find someone working for this 'Zaibach' of yours. Just relax." She said coldly, as if speaking to an annoying dog that won't quit licking itself in front of guests. He closed his eyes before darkness welcomed him into a dreamless sleep.
