Starting to feel like I am running out of ideas for the story. Have some in
mind but getting them out into the open is a lot easier said that done.
Just hoping that the end of this story doesn't end up sucking royally. Then
again, I am horrible about starting something and then not finishing. Tests
exempt!! Then again those don't really count (and in college they are the
last thing you want to think about- next to homework and studying.) BUT
that isn't the point here. Okay, 'm gonna let y'all git backta reading.
As soon as I get my thoughts organized.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Summer had since come and was slowly receding into fall, reluctant to relieve the planet of its unbearable heat. Yet amidst the blazing afternoon inferno and crisp, clear, muggy, nights Trunks further was forced to express his full potential, which Sierra would constantly complain about his lack of. Secretly they both knew that it was to get him to train all the harder, but all the same her temper was really starting to piss him off. And in those sessions he would have his ass returned to him as a bloody stump, or so it felt the next time he tried to sit. With a hefty sigh she would always repeat the same thing, he once making the mistake of lipping it with her.
"You must never attack an opponent in anger. The hatred cast darkness over judgment. Fight like this for real and I promise you will die."
His mouthing along received him another straight day of training, meaning no sleep that night, but the next he at least was able to close his eyes for a few consecutive hours. It was obvious that she was still irked the mornings after for another week plus. He had considered it all being the monthly thing, receiving ten laps for the thought. By the time he had returned dawn was breaking the Eastern horizon. Without receiving an hours rest she had him back on his feet and sparring. His heart just wasn't in it though. It was on vacation in the Bahamas.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Achy and not truly reenergized Trunks stiffly stumbled downstairs, nearly falling more times than there were steps. Without even having to look in a mirror he could tell his hair was all a giant knot on the right side of his head. Trunks could give a rat's ass. The only thing he wanted to know was how long he had been asleep. He knew he had had dozens of dreams, but couldn't remember a one. It felt like it had been days, but that was doubtful. Sierra always kicked him out of bed before a rooster would even twitch a feather. Christ she was a dictator.
Grinding drool off his cheek with the back of his hand Trunks fumbled to the front door, nearly walking thought it without a care. After three minutes of staring at the frame he finally remembered how it worked, slowly pulling it open and walking outside with the swagger of a drunken sailor on rough seas.
After falling off the porch he finally came to realization that it was night. ~Now I know I need more sleep.~ Yawning Trunks itched his scalp, tumbling to his feet. Turning with the grace of a battle station he started to make his way back inside, but as his foot was coming down onto the first of three steps something sent chills racing up his spine. Altering course half way through the step he nearly toppled over again before regaining some balance and partial consciousness he made his way around back and into the forest.
The further that he walked the more aware the young saiyan became. Surprisingly he hadn't gotten very far when the scent of heat caught his attention. Quiet as he could be Trunks pushed his way thought low branches and assorted under brush. ~Maybe I should go back and find Sierra. Have a really bad feeling about this. Wait a cursed minute! I am not a little kid. Don't care what the hell she says, I can take care of myself just fine.~ Frustrated now he quickened his pace slightly.
Keeping all senses alert he soon heard a soft voice drifting through the foliage. Confused Trunks strained to hear, but the words were indiscernible. A faint glow became recognizable in the distance. It felt like an eternity before he was upon it.
In the depths of the trees he came upon a small clearing that he swore had not been there before. Numb he moved forward, stopping the moment he felt cool water lapping about his ankles. Awestruck he watched as an angelic girl danced with the grace of a Christmas morn dusting of snow. She wore a gown of white, green and the deepest violet imaginable. From her back wings of the most brilliant white; hints of gold making them glitter while wreathed in soft blue flames. Circling her as well were two other rings of flames, bluish and green, hypnotically circling her.
Within moments his knees felt weak. ~Gods.~ Deep in the pits of his stomach he knew who it was, but all the same didn't want to believe it. Within a split second he could feel her eyes pass and briefly lock with his. Trunks fought his hollow legs, forcing himself to remain standing. Her song never broke or wavered within her dance. With the impact of an avalanche another realization twisted his stomach, she wasn't even touching the water, giving the display a further unearthly shock of splendor.
~I must be dreaming. It's the only way to explain this.~
Time came to a close as he stood.
Eternity was tickling his veins.
Blinking into reality he came to find she had vanished. Confused he waded out into the water up to his waist before realizing she was no longer there.
Double-timing his pace Trunks raced home, repeating at nausea ~'S just a dream. 'S just a dream. 'S just a dream.~
Skidding to a halt he nearly fell face first into a small campfire Sierra had constructed on his front lawn. Smiling softly she looked up at him from a small, ancient, leather-bound book. "You are late." Confused he blinked twice. Tenderly closing the relic Sierra stood and bowed her head lightly. "I give you my apologies for the last few weeks. I know I have been hard on you, and at times heartless. It is just that I have not been myself lately. Old uneasiness has been stirring in my heart. I had no right to take it out on you, but none the less it has furthered your training." Again he blinked, not too sure if he was fully following her.
With a sigh she cast her eyes aside. "I know what you saw out there." Numbly he nodded, but wasn't too sure why. "I was paying my respects to the deceased. It is the anniversary-" she stopped herself before saying more, thought nothing more needed to be.
"I'm sorry." Was all Trunks found he could mumble, the statement feeling even dumber aloud than in his head.
"Do not be." Her eyes settled on the flames.
"You know the legends, right?" Momentarily her eyes jumped to his.
"Which ones?"
"About where you come from."
"Other than my pare-"
"No. No, I guess you do not."
Again he scratched at his head. "Then tell me."
"Another time."
Trunks frowned. If anyone could be more vague and adept at avoiding a situation he didn't want to meet them. "Then can you at least answer one question?"
"Just one."
"Why am I different from the others if wall are supposed to have the same soul?"
"A soul is not what determines such. You are different because of your personality, background, but most of all the one unique aspect of a person, their spirit. A soul gives life. It is what ties many to the past. Some are recycled, others newborn. The recycled are true unique. They contain aspects and memories of previous. You have to know how to tap into which to see these thought. Some chose to come back, others don't. Hence why new come forth. Sprits are the heart of a being. Someone can live easily without a soul, but a spirit without its body becomes easily lost. Meanwhile personality is determined by your guiding star. A single point of heaven that is where you are to be when your candle finishes wick.
"I know you are the one I am searching for. The only one that can help me. Your soul was a guide, your spirit is your center."
Still slightly confused Trunks regarded her with a lost, inquisitive look. She blatantly ignored it, returning to her book. Beneath her breath she began mumbling in a strange tongue, one in which he quickly determined must have been her native.
The more she mumbled the heavier his body began to feel. Unsure he fought the urge to fall headlong into the fire at his feet. Her words became stronger and more insistent. The pull soon felt as if it were attempting to dislocate every bone in his body from all other material. Still he fought.
Her words struck with venom. Each accent drumming him inches closer to the flames. Tightly Trunks squeezed his eyes shut to keep sparks, glowing the same brilliant emerald as her eyes from scalding his. The tickle of heat made his scalp itch. He tried to protect his head, but his fingers were already being consumed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Note: okay, the part of her at the lake I kinda derived from a poem I wrote one day outa pure boredom. Ask if you are interested, don't really feel like posting it. Same for the image of dancing. Have a few doodles, okay, boredom pieces, of it, one I like better than the other.
With that said.
_.-^-._To be continued_.-^-._
As soon as I get my thoughts organized.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Summer had since come and was slowly receding into fall, reluctant to relieve the planet of its unbearable heat. Yet amidst the blazing afternoon inferno and crisp, clear, muggy, nights Trunks further was forced to express his full potential, which Sierra would constantly complain about his lack of. Secretly they both knew that it was to get him to train all the harder, but all the same her temper was really starting to piss him off. And in those sessions he would have his ass returned to him as a bloody stump, or so it felt the next time he tried to sit. With a hefty sigh she would always repeat the same thing, he once making the mistake of lipping it with her.
"You must never attack an opponent in anger. The hatred cast darkness over judgment. Fight like this for real and I promise you will die."
His mouthing along received him another straight day of training, meaning no sleep that night, but the next he at least was able to close his eyes for a few consecutive hours. It was obvious that she was still irked the mornings after for another week plus. He had considered it all being the monthly thing, receiving ten laps for the thought. By the time he had returned dawn was breaking the Eastern horizon. Without receiving an hours rest she had him back on his feet and sparring. His heart just wasn't in it though. It was on vacation in the Bahamas.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Achy and not truly reenergized Trunks stiffly stumbled downstairs, nearly falling more times than there were steps. Without even having to look in a mirror he could tell his hair was all a giant knot on the right side of his head. Trunks could give a rat's ass. The only thing he wanted to know was how long he had been asleep. He knew he had had dozens of dreams, but couldn't remember a one. It felt like it had been days, but that was doubtful. Sierra always kicked him out of bed before a rooster would even twitch a feather. Christ she was a dictator.
Grinding drool off his cheek with the back of his hand Trunks fumbled to the front door, nearly walking thought it without a care. After three minutes of staring at the frame he finally remembered how it worked, slowly pulling it open and walking outside with the swagger of a drunken sailor on rough seas.
After falling off the porch he finally came to realization that it was night. ~Now I know I need more sleep.~ Yawning Trunks itched his scalp, tumbling to his feet. Turning with the grace of a battle station he started to make his way back inside, but as his foot was coming down onto the first of three steps something sent chills racing up his spine. Altering course half way through the step he nearly toppled over again before regaining some balance and partial consciousness he made his way around back and into the forest.
The further that he walked the more aware the young saiyan became. Surprisingly he hadn't gotten very far when the scent of heat caught his attention. Quiet as he could be Trunks pushed his way thought low branches and assorted under brush. ~Maybe I should go back and find Sierra. Have a really bad feeling about this. Wait a cursed minute! I am not a little kid. Don't care what the hell she says, I can take care of myself just fine.~ Frustrated now he quickened his pace slightly.
Keeping all senses alert he soon heard a soft voice drifting through the foliage. Confused Trunks strained to hear, but the words were indiscernible. A faint glow became recognizable in the distance. It felt like an eternity before he was upon it.
In the depths of the trees he came upon a small clearing that he swore had not been there before. Numb he moved forward, stopping the moment he felt cool water lapping about his ankles. Awestruck he watched as an angelic girl danced with the grace of a Christmas morn dusting of snow. She wore a gown of white, green and the deepest violet imaginable. From her back wings of the most brilliant white; hints of gold making them glitter while wreathed in soft blue flames. Circling her as well were two other rings of flames, bluish and green, hypnotically circling her.
Within moments his knees felt weak. ~Gods.~ Deep in the pits of his stomach he knew who it was, but all the same didn't want to believe it. Within a split second he could feel her eyes pass and briefly lock with his. Trunks fought his hollow legs, forcing himself to remain standing. Her song never broke or wavered within her dance. With the impact of an avalanche another realization twisted his stomach, she wasn't even touching the water, giving the display a further unearthly shock of splendor.
~I must be dreaming. It's the only way to explain this.~
Time came to a close as he stood.
Eternity was tickling his veins.
Blinking into reality he came to find she had vanished. Confused he waded out into the water up to his waist before realizing she was no longer there.
Double-timing his pace Trunks raced home, repeating at nausea ~'S just a dream. 'S just a dream. 'S just a dream.~
Skidding to a halt he nearly fell face first into a small campfire Sierra had constructed on his front lawn. Smiling softly she looked up at him from a small, ancient, leather-bound book. "You are late." Confused he blinked twice. Tenderly closing the relic Sierra stood and bowed her head lightly. "I give you my apologies for the last few weeks. I know I have been hard on you, and at times heartless. It is just that I have not been myself lately. Old uneasiness has been stirring in my heart. I had no right to take it out on you, but none the less it has furthered your training." Again he blinked, not too sure if he was fully following her.
With a sigh she cast her eyes aside. "I know what you saw out there." Numbly he nodded, but wasn't too sure why. "I was paying my respects to the deceased. It is the anniversary-" she stopped herself before saying more, thought nothing more needed to be.
"I'm sorry." Was all Trunks found he could mumble, the statement feeling even dumber aloud than in his head.
"Do not be." Her eyes settled on the flames.
"You know the legends, right?" Momentarily her eyes jumped to his.
"Which ones?"
"About where you come from."
"Other than my pare-"
"No. No, I guess you do not."
Again he scratched at his head. "Then tell me."
"Another time."
Trunks frowned. If anyone could be more vague and adept at avoiding a situation he didn't want to meet them. "Then can you at least answer one question?"
"Just one."
"Why am I different from the others if wall are supposed to have the same soul?"
"A soul is not what determines such. You are different because of your personality, background, but most of all the one unique aspect of a person, their spirit. A soul gives life. It is what ties many to the past. Some are recycled, others newborn. The recycled are true unique. They contain aspects and memories of previous. You have to know how to tap into which to see these thought. Some chose to come back, others don't. Hence why new come forth. Sprits are the heart of a being. Someone can live easily without a soul, but a spirit without its body becomes easily lost. Meanwhile personality is determined by your guiding star. A single point of heaven that is where you are to be when your candle finishes wick.
"I know you are the one I am searching for. The only one that can help me. Your soul was a guide, your spirit is your center."
Still slightly confused Trunks regarded her with a lost, inquisitive look. She blatantly ignored it, returning to her book. Beneath her breath she began mumbling in a strange tongue, one in which he quickly determined must have been her native.
The more she mumbled the heavier his body began to feel. Unsure he fought the urge to fall headlong into the fire at his feet. Her words became stronger and more insistent. The pull soon felt as if it were attempting to dislocate every bone in his body from all other material. Still he fought.
Her words struck with venom. Each accent drumming him inches closer to the flames. Tightly Trunks squeezed his eyes shut to keep sparks, glowing the same brilliant emerald as her eyes from scalding his. The tickle of heat made his scalp itch. He tried to protect his head, but his fingers were already being consumed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Note: okay, the part of her at the lake I kinda derived from a poem I wrote one day outa pure boredom. Ask if you are interested, don't really feel like posting it. Same for the image of dancing. Have a few doodles, okay, boredom pieces, of it, one I like better than the other.
With that said.
_.-^-._To be continued_.-^-._
