Only one chapter long unless anyone feels that this should be continued.
Just to warn you, it's not very good but I felt like posting it out of
boredom. Hope it is all spelled right and sorry for my other readers about
Warnings. I'll finish chapter 7 soon, I'm finding it difficult to write.
Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne.
Satisfaction for Death
Adrenaline skyrocketed with every quick breath taken in. The fifteen year olds heart racing like a car at the Daytona 500. Yet the being didn't have a clue what Daytona was or a car. The only thought surging through the sleeping body was to simply kill.
It didn't matter what or who was killed. But as long as he could let his flamethrower roar from his guymelef, everything was perfect. The known fact that he was at war and beings were dying every day created his own nirvana. With every heartbeat stopping from his victim and their cold body falling to the ground, gravity's doing.
But Dilandau Albatou couldn't imagine the coldness of death. For all he felt was the rush of fire and energy.
The dream switched from his guymelef to running through the hell he had established alone. Another victim came towards him with a weapon, yet it didn't matter what the weapon was. He would kill this man holding something in his hands. For some reason his dream was not allowing him to fully view what the man was holding.
Dilandau took hold of the hilt of his sword and pulled it from his sheath, smiling wickedly. Once again, he couldn't imagine the chilling blade only heat. Charging toward the man he watched with amusement as his sword sliced his head off cleanly. His victims bleeding decapitated body, dropping cold to the cobblestone pavement.
Laughter erupted from the teens pale lips. Yet it was partially out of pleasure, the main reason being he had gone insane.
The commander of the elite Dragonslayers kept walking through his inferno with glee. Occasionally sauntering onto someone trying to escape the destruction. These people ending up brutally mangled in death after his keen sight caught them.
His recent victims blood had managed to splash onto him. Dilandau thoroughly accepted any ounce of the dead child's blood. Raising fingers to his cheek he ran his gloved hand over his face. Red smearing over his scar, red eyes blazing from thoughts. Knowing one day the person who had marred his beautiful face, that bastard's blood would wash over him soon.
Deep down inside of him he was constantly begging for more to rip apart, faintly repressed. Nothing seemingly held him back from killing most of the time. He took in the smoke filled air and felt no pain when it attempted to sting his bloodthirsty eyes.
He rested on his armor clad, blood drenched knees. Dilandau leaned back and stared up. Up at the stars and the moons, high in the almost never-ending sky of Gaea. His eternal fire singing into the night like a thousand screams from a rival country. A country that had just met his rage.
Yet there was something keeping him from truly starting an apocalypse. His body finally figuring out his madness was being repressed, after calming down to some extent. Staring up at the sky he wondered what was keeping him submerged from destroying it all. His fiery environment becoming a blur.
Dilandau was more or less sane, or as sane as he got. But the fact that something was keeping him back kept fueling his anger. He let out a shuddering breath, and then laughed again like the irrational murderer he was. His sanity lost when he had been so close to having it back. Memories of messy deaths were allowed to be remembered with sanction.
The teens mind went roughly blank, fire and the night sky filling the space of thoughts. Yet the urge to crack up psychotically and kill thrummed inside viciously. He was so preciously close to getting up and seeking more to burn.
A hand lightly, yet firmly shook the unconscious shoulder of the dreamer.
"Selena, Selena are you okay?" a male questioned with light concern.
The girl shot up from her sprawled sleeping position on the bed. Her face twisted into a lunatics grin, her chest was heaving, as her breath was still irregular. The boy she had been constantly dreaming of lost control and so did she.
Blue eyes blazed blood red and the girl threw herself down onto the bed attempting to gain control. Her body still female, back arching and nails digging into the soft sheets. Sharp claw-like nails finding flesh through the cloth. Selena's crimson contents dripped from the tough, pale skin of her palms.
Snow-white teeth bared and grinning, she felt like incinerating and slicing into a victim. A giggle escaped her feminine lips, but her voice was not of hers. It was Dilandau Albatou's.
"Selena?" the man becoming greatly fearful of her display of actions.
She cocked her head silently and looked up at the man she had momentarily forgotten. Her kind state of mind was slowly progressing into complete dominance. Yet it was too slow to stop the bonfire from spreading in her.
Selena looked at him and instantly wanted to do nothing more than braid a noose out of his blond locks and hang him. After gouging out his blue eyeballs of course. Dilandau's murderous gleam came from her fiery eyes.
"What do you want?" She questioned him, the pyromaniac speaking for her.
"Dilandau, leave Selena alone! Don't force me to kill you!" Allen yelled grasping the hilt of his sword.
"Don't tell me you'd kill your own sister." She slid of the bed and stood in her pale blue nightgown.
The blond knew he was right, even as his sisters' possessed body walked up to him. The very sister he had worked so hard to kept in his soul and sight forever. Soft, fragile hands took a shaking sword from his trembling hands. A growl of mixed anger and happiness come forth from Selena's lips as the blade was pushed through the knights' chest. His betrayed expression etched permanently into his features.
Dilandau was in full control the second the tip of the weapon entered the pansy's chest. He roughly jerked the weapon from the dead corpse with satisfaction. Blood trickling down the blade, dripping onto the stone floor.
He stole Allen's clothing, needing to be rid of the nightgown. Yet he hated the feeling of having to wear his clothes. It ignited an urge to almost call off his search for the dragon and look for decent clothes instead. The pyro dismissed that thought knowing what he would rather do. Still holding onto the sword he walked over to the cherry wood door. His hand seized the brass handle and opened the wooden entrance. Pausing in the doorway he looked left and right down the hallway.
"Now where's Van?"
Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne.
Satisfaction for Death
Adrenaline skyrocketed with every quick breath taken in. The fifteen year olds heart racing like a car at the Daytona 500. Yet the being didn't have a clue what Daytona was or a car. The only thought surging through the sleeping body was to simply kill.
It didn't matter what or who was killed. But as long as he could let his flamethrower roar from his guymelef, everything was perfect. The known fact that he was at war and beings were dying every day created his own nirvana. With every heartbeat stopping from his victim and their cold body falling to the ground, gravity's doing.
But Dilandau Albatou couldn't imagine the coldness of death. For all he felt was the rush of fire and energy.
The dream switched from his guymelef to running through the hell he had established alone. Another victim came towards him with a weapon, yet it didn't matter what the weapon was. He would kill this man holding something in his hands. For some reason his dream was not allowing him to fully view what the man was holding.
Dilandau took hold of the hilt of his sword and pulled it from his sheath, smiling wickedly. Once again, he couldn't imagine the chilling blade only heat. Charging toward the man he watched with amusement as his sword sliced his head off cleanly. His victims bleeding decapitated body, dropping cold to the cobblestone pavement.
Laughter erupted from the teens pale lips. Yet it was partially out of pleasure, the main reason being he had gone insane.
The commander of the elite Dragonslayers kept walking through his inferno with glee. Occasionally sauntering onto someone trying to escape the destruction. These people ending up brutally mangled in death after his keen sight caught them.
His recent victims blood had managed to splash onto him. Dilandau thoroughly accepted any ounce of the dead child's blood. Raising fingers to his cheek he ran his gloved hand over his face. Red smearing over his scar, red eyes blazing from thoughts. Knowing one day the person who had marred his beautiful face, that bastard's blood would wash over him soon.
Deep down inside of him he was constantly begging for more to rip apart, faintly repressed. Nothing seemingly held him back from killing most of the time. He took in the smoke filled air and felt no pain when it attempted to sting his bloodthirsty eyes.
He rested on his armor clad, blood drenched knees. Dilandau leaned back and stared up. Up at the stars and the moons, high in the almost never-ending sky of Gaea. His eternal fire singing into the night like a thousand screams from a rival country. A country that had just met his rage.
Yet there was something keeping him from truly starting an apocalypse. His body finally figuring out his madness was being repressed, after calming down to some extent. Staring up at the sky he wondered what was keeping him submerged from destroying it all. His fiery environment becoming a blur.
Dilandau was more or less sane, or as sane as he got. But the fact that something was keeping him back kept fueling his anger. He let out a shuddering breath, and then laughed again like the irrational murderer he was. His sanity lost when he had been so close to having it back. Memories of messy deaths were allowed to be remembered with sanction.
The teens mind went roughly blank, fire and the night sky filling the space of thoughts. Yet the urge to crack up psychotically and kill thrummed inside viciously. He was so preciously close to getting up and seeking more to burn.
A hand lightly, yet firmly shook the unconscious shoulder of the dreamer.
"Selena, Selena are you okay?" a male questioned with light concern.
The girl shot up from her sprawled sleeping position on the bed. Her face twisted into a lunatics grin, her chest was heaving, as her breath was still irregular. The boy she had been constantly dreaming of lost control and so did she.
Blue eyes blazed blood red and the girl threw herself down onto the bed attempting to gain control. Her body still female, back arching and nails digging into the soft sheets. Sharp claw-like nails finding flesh through the cloth. Selena's crimson contents dripped from the tough, pale skin of her palms.
Snow-white teeth bared and grinning, she felt like incinerating and slicing into a victim. A giggle escaped her feminine lips, but her voice was not of hers. It was Dilandau Albatou's.
"Selena?" the man becoming greatly fearful of her display of actions.
She cocked her head silently and looked up at the man she had momentarily forgotten. Her kind state of mind was slowly progressing into complete dominance. Yet it was too slow to stop the bonfire from spreading in her.
Selena looked at him and instantly wanted to do nothing more than braid a noose out of his blond locks and hang him. After gouging out his blue eyeballs of course. Dilandau's murderous gleam came from her fiery eyes.
"What do you want?" She questioned him, the pyromaniac speaking for her.
"Dilandau, leave Selena alone! Don't force me to kill you!" Allen yelled grasping the hilt of his sword.
"Don't tell me you'd kill your own sister." She slid of the bed and stood in her pale blue nightgown.
The blond knew he was right, even as his sisters' possessed body walked up to him. The very sister he had worked so hard to kept in his soul and sight forever. Soft, fragile hands took a shaking sword from his trembling hands. A growl of mixed anger and happiness come forth from Selena's lips as the blade was pushed through the knights' chest. His betrayed expression etched permanently into his features.
Dilandau was in full control the second the tip of the weapon entered the pansy's chest. He roughly jerked the weapon from the dead corpse with satisfaction. Blood trickling down the blade, dripping onto the stone floor.
He stole Allen's clothing, needing to be rid of the nightgown. Yet he hated the feeling of having to wear his clothes. It ignited an urge to almost call off his search for the dragon and look for decent clothes instead. The pyro dismissed that thought knowing what he would rather do. Still holding onto the sword he walked over to the cherry wood door. His hand seized the brass handle and opened the wooden entrance. Pausing in the doorway he looked left and right down the hallway.
"Now where's Van?"