Chapter 5: (I dunno... Any ideas?)
Author's Notes: Thank you SO very much, Spider Croix and Meg Albatou, for reviewing. I feel so happy!!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!!!! (and a happy author means more chapters... Hinthint...)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Vision of Escaflowne in any way whatsoever. I'm not making any money off of this at all. I do own Iris, and... yeah, well, that's about it so far. And the plot. Or, at least part of it. (The only other thing I really do own is a banana peel from when I was in preschool...that was left in my little purse that I lugged around back then... And when my mom finally opened it, she nearly fainted. But, even that, I'm sorry to say, has been discarded and thrown away.)
Once again, I warn all you little kids about bad words in this chapter. Of course, there's only... what? Two? They aren't really that strong, but hey, if you're a sensitive person to that sort of stuff, you have been warned. I know Dilandau is a bit out of character, but he has to be for the purposes of this story. However, that doesn't mean I'm going to make him use such words as "darn", or "shoot", or "fudge". I mean, can you really imagine him on the battlefield shouting such things as "Darn you Van"? Of course, I could just do @#$% to them, but I don't think they're at a high enough degree of badness (unfortunately not a word...*sighs*) need to do that.
Bitterness coated Iris' words as she spoke quietly, "So it was you. I should have known. The red armor, the scar, crimson eyes like a demon, pale skin and hair... I am such a fool..." The girl wore a sort of cold, yet sad expression, as if she wished things could have turned out differently.
Then, in a flash of silver, Dilandau found himself with a sword at his neck, while he was still sitting down. The icy steel cut painfully into his neck, compelling him to recoil from it, until he was backed up against the wall. (Damn, he'd lost his sword in the snow!) The blade was sharp, he noted, honed to perfection, obviously by someone of great skill. It wouldn't be long until it cut through the vital vein that meant life or death...
He studied the girl who had saved his life, and now was going to end it. In her eyes, there was something almost akin to compassion, which seemed to be waging a war with anger and a lust for revenge.
Bullshit, he thought to himself. Why would she feel compassion for me, of all people?
Suddenly, accompanying a strong gust of icy wind, the door opened, and they both froze.
Author's Notes: Thank you SO very much, Spider Croix and Meg Albatou, for reviewing. I feel so happy!!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!!!! (and a happy author means more chapters... Hinthint...)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Vision of Escaflowne in any way whatsoever. I'm not making any money off of this at all. I do own Iris, and... yeah, well, that's about it so far. And the plot. Or, at least part of it. (The only other thing I really do own is a banana peel from when I was in preschool...that was left in my little purse that I lugged around back then... And when my mom finally opened it, she nearly fainted. But, even that, I'm sorry to say, has been discarded and thrown away.)
Once again, I warn all you little kids about bad words in this chapter. Of course, there's only... what? Two? They aren't really that strong, but hey, if you're a sensitive person to that sort of stuff, you have been warned. I know Dilandau is a bit out of character, but he has to be for the purposes of this story. However, that doesn't mean I'm going to make him use such words as "darn", or "shoot", or "fudge". I mean, can you really imagine him on the battlefield shouting such things as "Darn you Van"? Of course, I could just do @#$% to them, but I don't think they're at a high enough degree of badness (unfortunately not a word...*sighs*) need to do that.
Bitterness coated Iris' words as she spoke quietly, "So it was you. I should have known. The red armor, the scar, crimson eyes like a demon, pale skin and hair... I am such a fool..." The girl wore a sort of cold, yet sad expression, as if she wished things could have turned out differently.
Then, in a flash of silver, Dilandau found himself with a sword at his neck, while he was still sitting down. The icy steel cut painfully into his neck, compelling him to recoil from it, until he was backed up against the wall. (Damn, he'd lost his sword in the snow!) The blade was sharp, he noted, honed to perfection, obviously by someone of great skill. It wouldn't be long until it cut through the vital vein that meant life or death...
He studied the girl who had saved his life, and now was going to end it. In her eyes, there was something almost akin to compassion, which seemed to be waging a war with anger and a lust for revenge.
Bullshit, he thought to himself. Why would she feel compassion for me, of all people?
Suddenly, accompanying a strong gust of icy wind, the door opened, and they both froze.
