Duo growled amidst the downy softness of his newly washed and dried clothes. He stood in the room he had been given upon his first day in the palace. Though more often than not, his only efforts were to avoid being anyplace that could be easily guessed as his location, it was unavoidable this time if he wanted to wear his clothes again. Call him overcautious, but he called it brains.
It was all stupid anyway. He had nearly broken his neck running from the eerily bloodhound-like noble kid, only to nearly skid into a private party for Milliardo and the King. The shiver of fear that had run through him as he stood before the darkened, secret, doorway was enough to freeze him in place. The half-heard words about waiting and necessity had filled him with strange foreboding He remembered himself sliding and scrambling away like a beaten puppy, his wet skin making minuscule squeaking noises on the smooth floor.
And now, he was fuming, mad at nothing he could pinpoint other than himself, and that just made him more angry. He clouted the wall with his fist and felt the calloused skin of his knuckles split just shy of drawing blood. What was he waiting around this stupid palace for anyway? He threw down the towel they had given him to finish drying his hair and it nearly knocked over a chair. Duo watched it teeter and half hoped it would fall, knowing the very annoyance of it would cause him to commit greater violence on the rest of the room and its stupid mirrored walls. A small part of his more sensible mind gave a sigh of relief as it thumped back onto four legs, crooked, but standing.
It seemed to cause the anger to blow out of him. He picked up the leather thong he used to tie his hair and stuck it in his mouth, finding some relief in the rough familiar flavor. He reached back to braid his hair and thought of how out of place it and he was in the castle.
Everything was out of place. It was as if the whole castle really belonged to someone else, and they were just borrowing it. Like the conversation he overheard hadn't really fit either. Who else in this castle could be waiting, anyway? Not the man he had run from for all of an hour. The creepy noble kid seemed intent enough upon chasing Duo around to be satisfied.
Briefly, panic shot through him as he gathered his thoughts a little more efficiently. Could it be that the noble was just a distraction? That choking bath, the hour long chase, his forced re-entry into his room all smacked of suspicious conspiracy. And if he really wasn't the only one in the castle that was waiting...there was trouble.
Lots of trouble.
The trouble that woke sleeping gods.
He stood, pensively tying the thong around the end of his braid and swinging it behind him again. One thing he knew, was that he wasn't staying in a room with any mirrored walls anymore, and he wasn't going down any dark hallways if he could avoid it.
________
The smell of blood was in the air. It washed across the field in waves of sooty black that chocked the soldiers and killed crops. It was an odd mixture of blood, flesh, and overcooked meat over hickory fires. The smoke that rolled across the fields tainted and touched everything, nearly breaking her lines of soldiers, and causing her shined white gloves to turn an foul grey. Noin stared down at her hands, chocking back her rage and anguish. She was left with a horrible, calm, disgust and wonder as the ashes gathered in heaps around her. Her soldiers brushed it off their shields and armor, cleared it from the wagons' wheels. Some of them retched alone, the morning's hard breakfast going to waste on the bitter, defiled ground. A few more wept loudly, in groups. Noin felt like weeping. She wanted to rip off her gloves, tear across the field bare handed and rescue her friends from their own ashes. As if she could run and pile them into people again. Instead she stared in blank wonderment, coldness creeping through her bones like crystallized honey. Her tightly covered emotions caused a faint, tinny ringing in her ears that she was certain did not come from the assembling lines of armored demons across the grassy hill in front of her. She turned back to her lines and raised her arm, but her soldiers were already preparing. They blew the dirt of each other and crushed the singed crops beneath their feet. They heaved their fellows to their feet and began to arrange themselves in neat lines. Noin felt the cold breeze at her back and her hair blew forward to obscure her view of the proceedings. She felt a grim warmth spread in her chest and resisted the urge to abandon herself to a rueful grin. Those men who stood before them would die. Her friends would be avenged.
________________
The blonde general stood before her troops on the still smoldering remains of what could have been a wagon or a cottage. The chill wind whipped across her face, stinging and biting at the exposed and lightly clothed portions of her body. She stood triumphantly, giving her enemy plenty of time to prepare for her assault, a wicked smile on her face. Her soldiers were grim and leering, twitching, ready, eager for the fight. She wanted them to be antsy. It made for a fast beginning and better end. Jittery troops either killed faster or were killed faster. It didn't really matter, as long as they killed. Her grin spread a little, her jaw ached with cold and the muscles in her face wanted to twitch as she forced them hold. Her lover stepped quietly up to the side of her smoldering perch and said nothing, his sword strapped to his side with streaks of blood still on it. She would wonder why he had not cleaned it, but the upcoming battle was far too exciting for her to be distracted with trivial details, no matter how important they might become. His clothing was streaked with the blood of her enemies as well, and her twisted images of him gave her voice new fury,
"Soldiers!"
Her voice turned mocking, "Fight to craft our peace! Peace where those that go before us will tremble, and those that come after us with grovel in the dirt!"
She laughed at the shining, leering mercenary faces and turned back to her enemy, throwing her hand forward,
"Attack!"
*************
AN: Sorry about the wait guys, but I was having a bit of a busy time. I hope you like this part, I had meant it to be much larger. It has a bit of an awkward shift that I've been trying to avoid, going from Duo to the generals, but I hope it wasn't too distracting. This part seems far to awkward for me... I may change it later. Tell me one thing, would you rather have a longer wait for a longer part, or keep taking them in smaller incriments like this? I am a little dissatisfied with this one *sigh*, but I hope I got the idea across.
good luck, my spirits.
Kitten
It was all stupid anyway. He had nearly broken his neck running from the eerily bloodhound-like noble kid, only to nearly skid into a private party for Milliardo and the King. The shiver of fear that had run through him as he stood before the darkened, secret, doorway was enough to freeze him in place. The half-heard words about waiting and necessity had filled him with strange foreboding He remembered himself sliding and scrambling away like a beaten puppy, his wet skin making minuscule squeaking noises on the smooth floor.
And now, he was fuming, mad at nothing he could pinpoint other than himself, and that just made him more angry. He clouted the wall with his fist and felt the calloused skin of his knuckles split just shy of drawing blood. What was he waiting around this stupid palace for anyway? He threw down the towel they had given him to finish drying his hair and it nearly knocked over a chair. Duo watched it teeter and half hoped it would fall, knowing the very annoyance of it would cause him to commit greater violence on the rest of the room and its stupid mirrored walls. A small part of his more sensible mind gave a sigh of relief as it thumped back onto four legs, crooked, but standing.
It seemed to cause the anger to blow out of him. He picked up the leather thong he used to tie his hair and stuck it in his mouth, finding some relief in the rough familiar flavor. He reached back to braid his hair and thought of how out of place it and he was in the castle.
Everything was out of place. It was as if the whole castle really belonged to someone else, and they were just borrowing it. Like the conversation he overheard hadn't really fit either. Who else in this castle could be waiting, anyway? Not the man he had run from for all of an hour. The creepy noble kid seemed intent enough upon chasing Duo around to be satisfied.
Briefly, panic shot through him as he gathered his thoughts a little more efficiently. Could it be that the noble was just a distraction? That choking bath, the hour long chase, his forced re-entry into his room all smacked of suspicious conspiracy. And if he really wasn't the only one in the castle that was waiting...there was trouble.
Lots of trouble.
The trouble that woke sleeping gods.
He stood, pensively tying the thong around the end of his braid and swinging it behind him again. One thing he knew, was that he wasn't staying in a room with any mirrored walls anymore, and he wasn't going down any dark hallways if he could avoid it.
________
The smell of blood was in the air. It washed across the field in waves of sooty black that chocked the soldiers and killed crops. It was an odd mixture of blood, flesh, and overcooked meat over hickory fires. The smoke that rolled across the fields tainted and touched everything, nearly breaking her lines of soldiers, and causing her shined white gloves to turn an foul grey. Noin stared down at her hands, chocking back her rage and anguish. She was left with a horrible, calm, disgust and wonder as the ashes gathered in heaps around her. Her soldiers brushed it off their shields and armor, cleared it from the wagons' wheels. Some of them retched alone, the morning's hard breakfast going to waste on the bitter, defiled ground. A few more wept loudly, in groups. Noin felt like weeping. She wanted to rip off her gloves, tear across the field bare handed and rescue her friends from their own ashes. As if she could run and pile them into people again. Instead she stared in blank wonderment, coldness creeping through her bones like crystallized honey. Her tightly covered emotions caused a faint, tinny ringing in her ears that she was certain did not come from the assembling lines of armored demons across the grassy hill in front of her. She turned back to her lines and raised her arm, but her soldiers were already preparing. They blew the dirt of each other and crushed the singed crops beneath their feet. They heaved their fellows to their feet and began to arrange themselves in neat lines. Noin felt the cold breeze at her back and her hair blew forward to obscure her view of the proceedings. She felt a grim warmth spread in her chest and resisted the urge to abandon herself to a rueful grin. Those men who stood before them would die. Her friends would be avenged.
________________
The blonde general stood before her troops on the still smoldering remains of what could have been a wagon or a cottage. The chill wind whipped across her face, stinging and biting at the exposed and lightly clothed portions of her body. She stood triumphantly, giving her enemy plenty of time to prepare for her assault, a wicked smile on her face. Her soldiers were grim and leering, twitching, ready, eager for the fight. She wanted them to be antsy. It made for a fast beginning and better end. Jittery troops either killed faster or were killed faster. It didn't really matter, as long as they killed. Her grin spread a little, her jaw ached with cold and the muscles in her face wanted to twitch as she forced them hold. Her lover stepped quietly up to the side of her smoldering perch and said nothing, his sword strapped to his side with streaks of blood still on it. She would wonder why he had not cleaned it, but the upcoming battle was far too exciting for her to be distracted with trivial details, no matter how important they might become. His clothing was streaked with the blood of her enemies as well, and her twisted images of him gave her voice new fury,
"Soldiers!"
Her voice turned mocking, "Fight to craft our peace! Peace where those that go before us will tremble, and those that come after us with grovel in the dirt!"
She laughed at the shining, leering mercenary faces and turned back to her enemy, throwing her hand forward,
"Attack!"
*************
AN: Sorry about the wait guys, but I was having a bit of a busy time. I hope you like this part, I had meant it to be much larger. It has a bit of an awkward shift that I've been trying to avoid, going from Duo to the generals, but I hope it wasn't too distracting. This part seems far to awkward for me... I may change it later. Tell me one thing, would you rather have a longer wait for a longer part, or keep taking them in smaller incriments like this? I am a little dissatisfied with this one *sigh*, but I hope I got the idea across.
good luck, my spirits.
Kitten