Chapter 2:
"When war comes…so do the birds…"
The world was changing, that's what they feared, and all of them did. But the world would not slow, not for any adventurer, or for any politician. Despite what power they held, no one could stop the world from turning. And no one could stop the chaos that came in that gentle ballet.
No one
Not even the gods
No matter how hard they tried, they could not stop the old lion from lying to rest the swords that once protected it. They could not stop the child that was playing with dangerous toys. And no one could stop what was to come in time, not even the strongest of this world's wanderers. Not even the young, or even the old, and certainly not that young Elvaan.
That young Elvaan, whose future lay in a cloud, even in memories way. That young warrior whose life was to end, that was all that was certain. A life of pain, a life to end before his time was to come. This was what the gods could control, but they could only control it so well.
A control that would be tested
That same young Elvaan, watched in a dreamer's sleep now, walked slowly through the forests. From the forests to the plains, and back once more in that wandering sleep. That young warrior with fiery hair whose life would soon begin to unravel in an uncertain twist of fate, that no one could stop. A fate that twisted in its own sick way, that way it always seemed to. That warrior now stood within those forests that had built a thousand legends, and crushed just as many.
West Ronfaure
"With war come the birds…" the young warrior whispered the echoing words of hatred and wisdom to the trees and spirits as his eyes turned skyward. Tracing the black outlines with his blue eyes, reaching passed the branches and leaves, to sigh in disgust at the birds that hovered overhead, mocking the coming war.
But no amount of words or contempt would stop the war from coming, he knew that, and so did the creatures of the wild who had grown aggravated in years. Many attacking simple travelers, not caring who it was, treating everyone as an enemy. An enemy, that's who the young warrior was now, that's why he carried with him the weapon of destruction. That heavy axe he'd already used more than he cared to speak.
More death
More destruction
But…why?
No one knew the truth, or rather; no one would admit the truth. The lion was falling, the child was running in traffic, and the magician was losing his smoke and mirrors. The nations might as well have been at war with one another, or so the warrior thought. Little remorse would come from him, he was only out to save and help himself.
That's what he always said at least
Those words echoed again, back to his father and mother. Back to the day he was kicked from his home, and they day he met his true father. Back to the days he was taught to kill, back when he was taught only to fight for what he believed.
He only believed in himself
That's what he always said at least
That's what he said to himself, over and over again as his armor clanked. The shifting plates doing little for his temper as the axe bounced up and down on his unsteady shoulder now. The day was long, carrying passed its worth, but not letting u at all. The hours of the day were more than there should be, but most would tend not to agree.
But it only took a yell to shake him of his belief. It was one simply scream, one that wreaked and hung heavy with that feminine tone that drove men mad. It only took a simple scream to shake him from his hating thoughts, and drive him to a run. His feet padding in heavy drums over and over again on the ground as he charged for the scream that was hypnotizing him to a justice he didn't believe in.
"Anyone, please!" the young scream came once more, coming from the gently lips of a young Mithran girl, who was now stumbling through the forest, an orc in pursuit, with that odd fire of hatred that normally hung on that young Elvaan's face.
Such hatred
That was the world's fault
The actions were quick, it seemed, quicker than they should have been. But an axe came down upon the orc, sending it to its grave, and casting it from the world in that simple come down. To kill, it seemed now, was the Elvaan's only purpose as he turned his eyes to watch the young Mithra, now with a look of both gratitude and fear in her eyes as she stood, stepping towards the warrior.
This was the beginning
Why do they all begin like this?
"T-thank you…" the young Mithra worked, through her fear an exhaustion, ignoring the hatred that flared in the young Elvaan's eyes, looking beyond to the sorrow below it. She would not see the negative of him now, she never would.
"Don't mention it…" was all that came from the young ones mouth, the cliché of words that he had been living for years now. He was the sad and lonely warrior that would take no help, and would accept no pity. He was right out of an epic, one he always imagined he would live through, but always knowing it would not happen. He could only stick true to his cliché by turning and slowly walking away, trying to shrug off his exhaustion.
"Wait…" the young girl piped again, not seeking to let the warrior find his rest.
"What is it?" the annoyance seeming apparent in the audacious youths voice as he turned, the exhaustion catching him and setting him on a slight stagger. But he would accept no help.
How weak would he be if he did?
How weak?
"W-What's your name?" the young one asked, her voice stuttering and shaking in the fear she now realized, staring into that youth's eyes. Was it the fire that stirred the fear, or was it the sadness. No one will ever know, even now.
"…." The answer did not come fast, it seemed, as memories flashed in an unholy montage of hatred and sadness before his eyes, switching between one another in a horrific and angry waltz that eventually hung heavy on a single memory from his past. "Eprisom…" was his final answer, the name rolling off his tongue like had it for years.
"I'm Lina…" the Mithra's ears perked as she extended a delicate hand towards her new 'friend'. The soft touch that took onto his hand was enough to make his eyes delicate as he returned the smile in a faded fashion, sending a blush to the young girl's cheeks, which in return slowly lifted a rose from the folds in her robes. "To a new friendship…" she said in that shy and soft tone, as Eprisom took the rose, slipping it in the creases of his heavy armor, smiling full to the girl.
"To a new friendship," the warriors cracked and chipped voice finally said again, as he bowed his head low for a moment, brushing his red hair aside, allowing the Mithra another blush as she saw the face of what she considered handsome. It was her very own knight in shining armor.
But are those knights ever righteous
Are they ever even knights?
I don't think they are…
With that last creasing smile, cracking the frowning lips of the Elvaan for the final time, the meeting seemed to end as swiftly as it had begun, ending in only a final smile and a last glance into one another's eyes. It was the classic fairy tale of the knight and the damsel. But life did not work like fairy tales.
She walked slowly
Slow enough to let you regret it
End Chapter 2