Flatline
I think you know whom it's by. If you don't, you fail.
Disclaimer: I don't own SO3 yada yada blah blah… All right, next.
Update: Bought a new keyboard. The other one was interrupting my thought process with all the mistakes. This one types nice and smooth… Yay. By the way, I'm really wingin' it for Vox's attitude. I've not heard a line from him in a long time, so if I'm off, so sorry. All I know is he's a caustic asshole. Extended version of this chapter can be found at ht tp//w ww. Live journal. Co m/ tfc ffn
(Just take out the spaces and add an underscore between tfc and ffn.)
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The tips of his hair glowed molten gold as the sun's rays embraced him. Calm winds goaded his untamed hair to tease his fine features before retiring to the bridge of his nose in quiescent complacency. His violet skirt whispered and stirred about his legs lethargically, almost listlessly. His deific looks never reflect the turmoil plaguing the young swordsman; only the pellucid, virulent gaze would accomplish such a task. Once again his mind wandered to the perplexing events that occurred previously, and the absence of linking between them led him to believe that there was a daedal collusion that was focused on him.
A month had passed since he resurfacing of Vox, yet no explanation for the event had arisen. Albel was quite disconcerted over the matter, but even Woltar had disregarded the tribulation of the young captain as nothing more than the entangling of memories after a concussion. Paltry investigations took place a week after the incident, but uncovered nothing and quickly ceased. Albel soon learned that the only reason that the king had anyone look into the claim was because of his high rank. He soon became disgusted and unsatisfied with the investigation and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Elegant, timeless oak doors were thrown open carelessly as the Twisted one stalked into the lavish room. The one he sought stood behind an intricately carved redwood desk, shifting through and completing grants, endowments, and other documents in a meticulous fashion. The crashing of the doors was indicative of Albel's presence, and he needn't look up to affirm that belief.
"Good morning, Albel," Woltar greeted.
"Old man." Albel acknowledged without a glance in the Storm captain's direction. He quickly eased himself into a fine wicker chair, which, juxtaposed to the desk, held little beauty.
Albel was quiet for a time, simply picking at his nails without a sarcastic remark, retort or glare. It worried him greatly. "Is something wrong, boy?"
"Quit calling me that," Albel snapped. If there was anything he hated more than Vox, it was Woltar's insolence. "What's going on?"
Woltar ceased his tending to business and scrutinized the young man. He speculated that the last three words of Albel's sentence were an attempt at conversation, albeit it was small talk. "Well, not much outside of the usual business. Later, I was planning on attending a-"
"I could give a damn about your pointless life… I was talking about the king's affairs. And don't bother giving me some roundabout answer; I don't have time for that. If you don't know, then the least you could do is quit wasting my time and dying already. I'm tired of your comparing me to my father."
"You should've caught on by now, boy. The king's affairs are the king's affairs. You should consult him if you want to know what he's been doing. But I'm interested in what's ruffled you so; what's stirred you up so much as to disrespect me like that."
"It's none of your business, old man…" Albel sneered in disgust at Woltar's prying curiosity, and stood to leave. The Storm captain tried to reply before the wizened man left, but Albel whirled around and walked out of the room in the same angry gait with whence he came.
"He's nothing like you, Glou," Woltar spoke aloud. "Even after all he's gone through, he's still nothing like you."
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Albel was in deep thought as he let his feet guide him around the algid city. The bitter cold of the snowstorm numbed the scantily-clad captain's body, causing a nagging thought at the back of his mind about possible frostbite. He pushed it away. There were no new leads, and the ones he had were dead ends. There was nowhere left to go for his search. Perhaps it was just a simple delusion?
"The problem with you is- there are a lot of problems with you- but you're too damn stupid, Albel. I don't know what he keeps you around for. Maybe I should do my old king a favour and off you right now."
Albel whirled around angrily, and stopped dead in his tracks. Vox's sword was a half-inch away from his throat and any further movement could dispose of his vocal cords. "What is it you want, Vox? You've never had the balls to kill me before, so why the sudden change, maggot?"
"I've never had the chance to kill you before. My king's orders say I should bring you back ASAP, but I think I'll break you in before he gets ahold of you." Vox's expression remained stoic.
Albel was beginning to lose his patience. "You're a damned fool. I'm already his captain, or didn't you notice?"
Vox shook his head and touched his blade to Albel's throat, breaking the skin. A trickle of crimson contrasted the young Captain's pallid complexion perfectly. "Arzei was the fool. There is no better king to serve than the king of the dead. You're lucky, kid, he seems pretty interested in you. I'd have sent you back in pieces had he not demanded that you were brought back alive."
Albel unsheathed his sword and deflected the broadsword away from his throat. "You've lost it, Vox. You're despicable. You can preach about your womanish fairy tales all you please, but don't be offended if I carve out your vocal cords to save myself from going deaf."
"Just try it." Vox charged the younger man with his sword raised, executing a downward slash with amazing force. The lithe Captain sidestepped the attack and counterattacked with a horizontal slash. His sword cut clean through Vox without any resistance. Albel's stony countenance faded temporarily and a shocked expression shaped his features. Vox smirked. He raised his sword during Albel's recovery time and thrusted the hilt into the young captain's left temple. Albel stifled a yell before collapsing, unconscious. "You're so flawed," Vox reprimanded. "If you'd have let out a goddamned yell, then maybe someone would've noticed that something was afoot. I don't know why he's so interested in a weak bastard like you." The sinewy man threw Albel over his shoulder and proceeded down the alleyway from whence he came.
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Albel came around to the smell of raw sewage and rotted remains. Albel grimaced both because of the pungent scent that lingered like fog and the aching throb of his head that blurred his vision. Dizziness constricted him and he struggled to right the swaying duplicates of the repulsive room. Chains and shackles dangled from the ceiling in large amounts, as if the room were a mass holding cell. The bare stone walls were caked with grime, sweat, filth, blood, and other unidentifiable substances. There was virtually no lighting, and the lone lamp hanging down from a chain provided muted light. The sound of what Albel assumed were footsteps echoed through the barren cage, a squelching sound followed by a sucking sound, like a boot treading on and then forcefully ripping out of putrefying human flesh. The sound warned Albel of what's to come, and he instinctively tried to escape into the darkened areas of the room. Chains proved his tactics futile and unmercifully jerked him back into place. Manacles bound his hands and feet, and another chain was attached to the manacle already present around his neck. There was no possible way to escape.
"Haven't you realized that I'm your superior yet?" Vox asked, irritated. "You can't run. And there's no possible way you could put up a fight after what I did to you in the abandoned plaza. You might as well admit it, Nox: you're done for."
"That's what you think, Vox." Albel took a moment to study his surroundings once again, since his vision had cleared. "Where are we? I don't recognize this atrocious pit."
"This is your tomb, Albel. To Airyglyph, you'll have mysteriously disappeared, never to be heard from again. No one will miss an incompetent soldier like you."
"You're the incompetent one, Vox!" Albel retorted angrily. He snarled at the barely visible man. "You lost to that band of failures and you died in that invasion! At least I'm still living!"
"Not for long, Albel the Wicked." He smirked. "You're forgetting that I received your father's position as captain of the Dragon Brigade because of your inefficacy in the Accession of the Flame ritual. Your father died because of your weakness, and now you're locked in a dungeon far away from civilization and no one gives a damn that you're nowhere to be found. I don't even see why your beloved king kept you around. You can't control your subordinates, you can't defend our mines, and you can't even live up to your father's name. You probably fuck him for that position of Captain, don't you? You filthy. Little. Whore."
Albel expected to be absolutely livid from Vox's speech, but instead he found himself confronted with mixed feelings. He felt anger at both Vox and himself, yet a feeling of ultimate failure and a questioning of his right to live in his father's stead. It was a quixotic goal he had set for himself, he realized. Vox was right. As much as he loathed to admit it, Vox was right. Shelby acted of his own accord in the capturing of Nel's underlings, and the blue-haired halfwit Fayt had defeated him at the Bequerel mines. Albel really was an incompetent soldier.
Two-toned hair concealed his face as he shook his head in defiance of Vox's biting cynicism. "And what does that say about you, since I've outlived you?"
Vox laughed. It was a cold, heartless laugh, fitting for their surroundings. "Lady Fortune only smiles upon the insolent. Women always fall for the failures."
"That's a pitiful excuse. It's always like you to go by the lowest and dirtiest shit there is. You can't even kill a man in a fair duel. You have to use the cowardly methods of assassination while your victim's asleep, or restrain 'em so they can't fight back. You deserved to die."
Vox smirked. "Going by the book is wasting more energy on you than you're worth." He resumed his saunter toward the Wicked One. Slowly, he encircled the chained man, surveying him with obvious satisfaction. "If only you were a woman, Albel. Then you'd be more useful."
The lithe Captain could feel Vox's hands exploring the vast amounts of bare skin exposed between his top and skirt. "Don't touch me, you pitiful corpse!"
"You're in no position to threaten me, Captain."
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Albel awoke in his designated prison cell, throbbing with pain and unable to move. He felt wretched about what had happened. He felt used. Finally opening his eyes, he surveyed his surroundings once more to reveal, to his dismay, that the room had no windows. He had no way of telling what time it is, or how long it has been since his despised rape. He also had no idea if Vox was coming back, or if it was his plan to leave him here to starve to death. For the first time in his life, Albel felt utterly defeated. He was disgusted with himself for his inability to stop his rival from taking advantage of him. Albel's arms were released albeit his feet were still chained, but he lacked the energy and drive to free himself completely. Instead, Albel rested his head on his arms and let unconsciousness claim him.
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Yeah, so that turned out pretty well. More words than I expected. I've already got the beginning of the next chapter in mind, so stay tuned. Also, weren't you impressed with the update time? Wednesday instead of Saturday, which was when I expected to have it done. I've forgotten how fun writing is. Well, thanks for reading, everyone!