Playing God
By GoldenEagle
Chapter Five: Playing Mad
Dillandau awoke to the bumping and swaying of the world around him. The disorientation caused by this movement was only added to by the darkness that was shrouded around him. He moaned before moving about him, the slash in his stomach tightly closed but still painful. He went about groping for anything that might make him more familiar with his surroundings. His hand came into contact with something wooden. He moved on. His hand then came into contact with a cold object, drenched in a cold, sticky liquid. He searched forward, trying to figure out what was before him when a hand clamped down around his mouth, pulling him back. He kicked out, struggling, but he was still slightly weak from the wound, and taken by surprise. On instinct, he bit down into the person's hand. A hiss was heard near his ear before his head was yanked to the side, a pain flashing down his neck at the movement.
"God damn it, you little brat! Quit moving around, you little bastard, and if you bite me one more time I'll slit your throat so quick you won't even be able to cry out!" Despite the dark threat, Dillandau calmed at the voice, recognizing the hateful female behind it. He merely nodded and she let loose of him. He immediately pulled away, the pain in his neck enraging him.
"What the hell was that for?!" He snarled.
"Watch your voice, boy. We may not be well accepted by those who surround us." She muttered in the dark, sounding slightly distracted as she listened for any sign that they had been found out. There was a moment of pause as Dillandau still shuffled back, the confusion of their dark scene still getting to him. "Oh, and, Dillandau, was it? Watch your step."
As if on cue, he tripped over something and fell down. He growled out as he realized it was on the previous object he had touched before Siren had taken him by surprise. A match flared next to his ear, giving light momentarily to the scene. As soon as Dillandau saw what he was laying on, he jerked back, taken by surprise.
Two misted over eyes met his, lifeless. Pale, wrinkled skin, mouth agape, and across the throat a deep gash that had long stopped bleeding, the blood sticking to almost every inch of the person's skin. And, on the far right cheek, was the black outline of lips. As the light in the match went out, Siren began to speak.
"We're traveling with a caravan that passed by the creek not too long after you went out. They don't know we're still here, but it was their doctor that sewed you up."
"That man..." Dillandau whispered, drawing away from where he remembered the body was lying in the darkness.
He could almost feel her shrug in the sightless darkness. "He wanted my monkey as payment." There was a level of pride in her voice, a pride of her kill that even sickened Dillandau slightly. His Dragon Slayers were not even as obsessed as this. Perhaps he was, in the midst of battle, but only then. Only when his insanity was strongest. She sighed, obviously annoyed that he wasn't sharing in her joy of the murder. "I heard them speak of Zaibach. I think they're going there to trade. If I heard right, we should be there by dawn."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was the light that awoke Dillandau. The two of them had found their way to a pile of blankets that were, thank the gods, far from the stenching corpse. The disorientation of first wakefulness filled him and prevented him from first realizing why he felt so warm. Yet, as the light continued to pester his sleep-sensitive eyes, he took hold of his current position completely. Something warm and breathing and utterly female was pressed against his chest. He blinked once, twice, as he took Siren's sleeping form in, pressed tightly on him. There was a few seconds of pause before his confusion and pride erupted. "What the hell are you doing?!" He yelped as he pushed her away. She awoke in a flash, realizing where she had just been. She stumbled to her feet, her eyes confused as she tried to figure everything out for herself. Dillandau was more afraid of his image than anything. What if someone had walked in and found them that way? His Dragon Slayers would look at him with a smirk in their eyes for months!
Siren's voice surprised him with it's smallness and childlike quality as she spoke in a confused whisper. "Where... I-I'm sorry. I used to always sleep in my mom's room... I'm used to-" Suddenly, her vulnerability faded and the sharp coldness entered her eyes. The remembered innocence was lost and replaced with freezing precision. She met his eyes fully, the tears of her earlier recall still in them, giving her a glassy look. A snarl suddenly crossed her face. "What do you mean what am I doing? What were YOU doing?!" Her hand flashed forward, her palm connecting sharply with his face. Dillandau was taken by surprise for a moment, taken unaware because no one, much less a woman, had ever struck him in that fashion before.
In the seconds that passed, his head slightly bowed, his pale cheek pink, the rage slowly built itself up. In a sharp, girlish scream, Dillandau retaliated and hit her with the backside of his hand, with much more force and harshness. She stumbled, falling to one knee and holding herself there, breathing deeply, trying to regain her wits as her head spun. The Zaibach general felt rather proud of himself as he stood above her smugly, but he did not expect her next move. She sprang forward, a scream of utter rage roaring from her, thoughts of keeping their location a secret totally forgotten.
She hit him broadly in the chest with such force that he fell back and they both skidded several feet to the edge of the opening to the back of the wagon. The pain that rushed through Dillandau from his stomach was completely forgotten as he tried to hold her hand away from him. That hand held a sharp, curved knife, still stained with blood from earlier kills. There was a primal insanity in her eyes as she stared down at him and he realized with a quickly dispersed fear that she meant to kill him. But he had gone against entire armies, killing trained soldiers by the dozen. He could handle this girl. Or so he told himself. Yet, as he should know full well, insanity makes a person's strength increase ten fold.
The blade inched closer to his face and he gritted his teeth and started to push it away, yet a sharp kneeing to his groin cause his hand to slip away and his complexion to pale. The blade slipped forward and bit into the wood below his head. The wagon bounced over a hole in the road and Dillandau felt himself sliding back slowly, the girl sitting on his hips coming with him. He suddenly felt himself falling and he hit the ground harshly, pain issuing crossing his entire being. He opened his eyes to see Siren's hand back, the knife flashing forward, but the movement was interupted as a black leathered hand gripped her wrist. She screamed out like an animal as her victory was evaded.
Two strong arms pulled her off of him, just as two more pulled him up from the muddied streets of a Zaibach outpost. "General Dillandau!" One of the men yelped as he stood at attention. The other three soldiers followed suite, one still holding an enraged blonde girl in his hands. She writhed and tried to bite into his leathered hands, without avail. Dillandau rubbed his aching back and stitched stomach. A bad tempered grimace was plastered across his face.
Siren gave a quick stomp to the man who held her foot. He merely stumbled a bit and winced, then tightened his grip on her arms. Dillandau watched it with an unreadable look on his face, and the sound of a loud pop reached his ears as it issued from the two. Pain was what drove Siren's insanity away, the redness that had clouded her eyes now replaced with a threatening blackness. A strangling pain issued through her left arm and only increased as the man increased the power of his hold. Finally she let out a cry of pain, her complexion paling fuller.
Dillandau had watched this all with an ethereal and unemotional spirit. After all, she had hit him, tried to kill him... And yet, when her cry rang out, the hatred that had built for her erupted from him on a different person entirely. His fist connected with the soldier's jaw, the one which held Siren, that is. The other two soldiers just stood there, knowing they were unable to interfere. The man stumbled back and released the small wisp of a girl. She fell forward and Dillandau caught her by the shoulders. He could tell that her left shoulder was dislocated, which would explain the loud popping sound of earlier. He was taken unaware as she began to wail like a small child, her entire body trembling. He looked down into her face and saw that innocent and lost look of before return. Dillandau knew how to care for a fallen soldier, but not a child. Her tears were not for the pain, but for some sort of scene she was living out in her head. Dillandau scowled. Her insanity was almost tangible at the moment, and it put him in the worst of tempers.
"Snap out of it!" He screamed suddenly and his hand flashed forward once more, connecting with her right cheek. The sobs were choked out almost immediately and she lifted her eyes up to him, tears fresh on her cheeks, but no longer in her eyes. He saw his garnet eyes reflected in her purple ones, but still she held insanity within them. Laughter flowed from her lips, no, cackling, and Dillandau was somewhat at ease with this new side, for he himself held this quality of insane cackling from time to time. She continued to laugh, laugh at the murderer which held her and he felt it build up in himself as well. A wry grin crossed his face and his laughter met hers. The soldiers that surrounded the two just blinked once, twice, before turning away, ready to inform the others in the outpost to contact the Vione. After all, everyone knew the general of the Dragon Slayers was quite literally mad.
By GoldenEagle
Chapter Five: Playing Mad
Dillandau awoke to the bumping and swaying of the world around him. The disorientation caused by this movement was only added to by the darkness that was shrouded around him. He moaned before moving about him, the slash in his stomach tightly closed but still painful. He went about groping for anything that might make him more familiar with his surroundings. His hand came into contact with something wooden. He moved on. His hand then came into contact with a cold object, drenched in a cold, sticky liquid. He searched forward, trying to figure out what was before him when a hand clamped down around his mouth, pulling him back. He kicked out, struggling, but he was still slightly weak from the wound, and taken by surprise. On instinct, he bit down into the person's hand. A hiss was heard near his ear before his head was yanked to the side, a pain flashing down his neck at the movement.
"God damn it, you little brat! Quit moving around, you little bastard, and if you bite me one more time I'll slit your throat so quick you won't even be able to cry out!" Despite the dark threat, Dillandau calmed at the voice, recognizing the hateful female behind it. He merely nodded and she let loose of him. He immediately pulled away, the pain in his neck enraging him.
"What the hell was that for?!" He snarled.
"Watch your voice, boy. We may not be well accepted by those who surround us." She muttered in the dark, sounding slightly distracted as she listened for any sign that they had been found out. There was a moment of pause as Dillandau still shuffled back, the confusion of their dark scene still getting to him. "Oh, and, Dillandau, was it? Watch your step."
As if on cue, he tripped over something and fell down. He growled out as he realized it was on the previous object he had touched before Siren had taken him by surprise. A match flared next to his ear, giving light momentarily to the scene. As soon as Dillandau saw what he was laying on, he jerked back, taken by surprise.
Two misted over eyes met his, lifeless. Pale, wrinkled skin, mouth agape, and across the throat a deep gash that had long stopped bleeding, the blood sticking to almost every inch of the person's skin. And, on the far right cheek, was the black outline of lips. As the light in the match went out, Siren began to speak.
"We're traveling with a caravan that passed by the creek not too long after you went out. They don't know we're still here, but it was their doctor that sewed you up."
"That man..." Dillandau whispered, drawing away from where he remembered the body was lying in the darkness.
He could almost feel her shrug in the sightless darkness. "He wanted my monkey as payment." There was a level of pride in her voice, a pride of her kill that even sickened Dillandau slightly. His Dragon Slayers were not even as obsessed as this. Perhaps he was, in the midst of battle, but only then. Only when his insanity was strongest. She sighed, obviously annoyed that he wasn't sharing in her joy of the murder. "I heard them speak of Zaibach. I think they're going there to trade. If I heard right, we should be there by dawn."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was the light that awoke Dillandau. The two of them had found their way to a pile of blankets that were, thank the gods, far from the stenching corpse. The disorientation of first wakefulness filled him and prevented him from first realizing why he felt so warm. Yet, as the light continued to pester his sleep-sensitive eyes, he took hold of his current position completely. Something warm and breathing and utterly female was pressed against his chest. He blinked once, twice, as he took Siren's sleeping form in, pressed tightly on him. There was a few seconds of pause before his confusion and pride erupted. "What the hell are you doing?!" He yelped as he pushed her away. She awoke in a flash, realizing where she had just been. She stumbled to her feet, her eyes confused as she tried to figure everything out for herself. Dillandau was more afraid of his image than anything. What if someone had walked in and found them that way? His Dragon Slayers would look at him with a smirk in their eyes for months!
Siren's voice surprised him with it's smallness and childlike quality as she spoke in a confused whisper. "Where... I-I'm sorry. I used to always sleep in my mom's room... I'm used to-" Suddenly, her vulnerability faded and the sharp coldness entered her eyes. The remembered innocence was lost and replaced with freezing precision. She met his eyes fully, the tears of her earlier recall still in them, giving her a glassy look. A snarl suddenly crossed her face. "What do you mean what am I doing? What were YOU doing?!" Her hand flashed forward, her palm connecting sharply with his face. Dillandau was taken by surprise for a moment, taken unaware because no one, much less a woman, had ever struck him in that fashion before.
In the seconds that passed, his head slightly bowed, his pale cheek pink, the rage slowly built itself up. In a sharp, girlish scream, Dillandau retaliated and hit her with the backside of his hand, with much more force and harshness. She stumbled, falling to one knee and holding herself there, breathing deeply, trying to regain her wits as her head spun. The Zaibach general felt rather proud of himself as he stood above her smugly, but he did not expect her next move. She sprang forward, a scream of utter rage roaring from her, thoughts of keeping their location a secret totally forgotten.
She hit him broadly in the chest with such force that he fell back and they both skidded several feet to the edge of the opening to the back of the wagon. The pain that rushed through Dillandau from his stomach was completely forgotten as he tried to hold her hand away from him. That hand held a sharp, curved knife, still stained with blood from earlier kills. There was a primal insanity in her eyes as she stared down at him and he realized with a quickly dispersed fear that she meant to kill him. But he had gone against entire armies, killing trained soldiers by the dozen. He could handle this girl. Or so he told himself. Yet, as he should know full well, insanity makes a person's strength increase ten fold.
The blade inched closer to his face and he gritted his teeth and started to push it away, yet a sharp kneeing to his groin cause his hand to slip away and his complexion to pale. The blade slipped forward and bit into the wood below his head. The wagon bounced over a hole in the road and Dillandau felt himself sliding back slowly, the girl sitting on his hips coming with him. He suddenly felt himself falling and he hit the ground harshly, pain issuing crossing his entire being. He opened his eyes to see Siren's hand back, the knife flashing forward, but the movement was interupted as a black leathered hand gripped her wrist. She screamed out like an animal as her victory was evaded.
Two strong arms pulled her off of him, just as two more pulled him up from the muddied streets of a Zaibach outpost. "General Dillandau!" One of the men yelped as he stood at attention. The other three soldiers followed suite, one still holding an enraged blonde girl in his hands. She writhed and tried to bite into his leathered hands, without avail. Dillandau rubbed his aching back and stitched stomach. A bad tempered grimace was plastered across his face.
Siren gave a quick stomp to the man who held her foot. He merely stumbled a bit and winced, then tightened his grip on her arms. Dillandau watched it with an unreadable look on his face, and the sound of a loud pop reached his ears as it issued from the two. Pain was what drove Siren's insanity away, the redness that had clouded her eyes now replaced with a threatening blackness. A strangling pain issued through her left arm and only increased as the man increased the power of his hold. Finally she let out a cry of pain, her complexion paling fuller.
Dillandau had watched this all with an ethereal and unemotional spirit. After all, she had hit him, tried to kill him... And yet, when her cry rang out, the hatred that had built for her erupted from him on a different person entirely. His fist connected with the soldier's jaw, the one which held Siren, that is. The other two soldiers just stood there, knowing they were unable to interfere. The man stumbled back and released the small wisp of a girl. She fell forward and Dillandau caught her by the shoulders. He could tell that her left shoulder was dislocated, which would explain the loud popping sound of earlier. He was taken unaware as she began to wail like a small child, her entire body trembling. He looked down into her face and saw that innocent and lost look of before return. Dillandau knew how to care for a fallen soldier, but not a child. Her tears were not for the pain, but for some sort of scene she was living out in her head. Dillandau scowled. Her insanity was almost tangible at the moment, and it put him in the worst of tempers.
"Snap out of it!" He screamed suddenly and his hand flashed forward once more, connecting with her right cheek. The sobs were choked out almost immediately and she lifted her eyes up to him, tears fresh on her cheeks, but no longer in her eyes. He saw his garnet eyes reflected in her purple ones, but still she held insanity within them. Laughter flowed from her lips, no, cackling, and Dillandau was somewhat at ease with this new side, for he himself held this quality of insane cackling from time to time. She continued to laugh, laugh at the murderer which held her and he felt it build up in himself as well. A wry grin crossed his face and his laughter met hers. The soldiers that surrounded the two just blinked once, twice, before turning away, ready to inform the others in the outpost to contact the Vione. After all, everyone knew the general of the Dragon Slayers was quite literally mad.
