Oblitus
The sound of children laughing filled the air. Despite the noise the village had only five children. They danced along the streets and screamed merrily as the adults worked to repair the damage. In the entirety of the village there were only four people who remained inside. The sheriff's daughter insisted on spending her time how she pleased. The second was a young adult male who was spoilt had simply refused to help. The third was a young woman in her mid-teens with long leafy pigtails and bright eyes – she has been forbidden to leave the house. Her parents had decided that it was best for her.
The fourth one was the rider. The curtains in his room were mostly drawn. He stood by the window to watch his horse. His prized companion was on his lonesome - which was a good thing. If the children came close to his horse he would chase them away with weapons and murderous threats which he would have no qualms over carrying out.
He leaned against the wall, for once without his cloak. The gilded light of the sun's rays caught on his hair. His hair was an unusual colour. It was a deep shade of midnight azure. He glanced out of the window. His eyes were also blue but a darker shade. They captivated all that chanced upon them - even the light. They held sternness, hidden depths and almost concealed ambition.
His horse shook its grand head and looked up at him. The beast's dark eyes pierced into his soul and tried to understand his rider. The rider's eyes narrowed and the horse lowered his head submissively. The curtain swung closed and he treaded to the door. His hand grasped a hat as he went by and placed it on his head. The hat was blue, shaped like a fedora and had a blue feather protruding from the side.
His footsteps rang out in the old building. The stairs were old and rickety. They creaked with every movement that he made. He paid them no heed and stepped onto the hall. As the innkeepers were out he was entirely alone. His eyes roved across the desk and fireplace. He quickly looked away. The inn possessed nothing of value.
The screams of children rang out again. They had foolishly moved closer. He threw the door open and stormed out. His expression was a mask of fury. The children were pranced around his horse. He drew his sword and grabbed the collar of three children's tunics. They screamed and choked as he wound the fabric and tightened his grip. The sight horrified the other children who promptly fled.
He moved to show his sword to the children when he saw the girl with leafy pigtails. She stood on the other side of the street with a vacant expression. She stared at him through dull eyes. He straightened up and threw the children away. They cried and squawked as they fled. The strange girl's vacancy abandoned her as she heard something that he couldn't. Fright filled her gaze and she turned. Her feet barely touched the ground as she ran home. He remembered stopping by it.
She closed the door behind her with a slam. If she were anyone else he would have continued on his way. Her strangeness intrigued him and his curiosity urged him onwards. His gaze kept to the house as he untethered his horse and made his way across the street. Even though he hadn't seen her he was sure she was the one he noticed when he entered the village. His horse trotted at his side loyally, adamant that his rider's reasoning was respectable.
"She is another," he explained lowly.
The horse nodded and moved away. He strode proudly up to the door. Without trying he knew that the door was firmly locked. Instead of pleading for entrance he slammed his right forearm against the door. The door shook and trembled before it swung open from the bottom latch. He entered the dark property and kicked the door shut. The wood wailed and shifted into an unmoveable position. He looked around the dust covered room. The girl was with him but she refused to reveal herself. He advanced deeper into the unlit room.
"My father won't be pleased," she whispered.
He stopped in his tracks and listened as a quiet echo reverberated around the room. He revelled in the sound of her voice and was disappointed at how soon the echo ended. Her voice, soft and without the irksome accent of the settlement, was melodic and soothing. He treaded closer to her slowly so as not to frighten her away.
"I don't care for your father," he replied.
"Who do you care for?" she enquired.
"Myself," he stated, delighting in her voice.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Kaito,"
"I am Miku,"
"I know,"
"Is that so? How could you know? I haven't left the village before,"
"We met long ago,"
"I don't remember you. You are mistaken,"
He stopped in front of her; his breath tickling her face. "I remember you,"
"Nice to meet you again?" she whispered timidly.
The sky was once more overcast. At the edge of the village stood a stranger who peered at the remaining carnage. His lips were twisted into a cruel smirk. His eyes boasted of malignance. He placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword. He angled it to the side. A quiet cacophony of chaos rose. Amidst the forest leaves stirred and twigs snapped. Feet were stomped and hunched over figures could be glimpsed.
The plum haired warrior threw his head back and chuckled. The cacophony behind him erupted vociferously. The strange beings threw their hands about wildly, shrieking and howling. Sticks and stones were tossed and clattered onto the ground. The entire village seemed to shake with the force of the celebrations.