Post by Erico on Aug 12, 2009 23:19:14 GMT -5
Summary: I really need to FINISH THIS.
The 22nd day of Ellini’s Rise (May 17th Earth Conversion), 2007 A.C.E.
The Capital City of New Arruk-Sen, Argonian Central Province
The Palace of Sellarus
---------------------------
She was having the dream again.
She knew it was a dream because the landscape of Argonia was nothing like this. The night sky’s stars were all wrong, and the wind blew the wrong direction, and most importantly, the almost skeletal man, wicked and sharp as a blade, did not belong. There was malice in his eyes, but no hatred. No, his expression, behind those eyes that were backlit with red in the night, were gleeful. Toying.
Manipulative.
“Do you know what this place is?” He asked, with a questioning tone that could have come from one of her own teachers. The girl shook her head. “I’m surprised you don’t.” He admonished her. “This is my home. Where I was born. Where I was raised. You came here once, long ago.”
“I did?” She echoed doubtfully. “I doubt that.”
He smirked. “Think what you will, then.”
“Should I know you?” There was something about him which seemed familiar, and it was more than the fact that this dream was a repeat of one from not so long before.
The grim figure stared down at his fingernails; for the first time, she realized how very much like claws they were. “That all depends, I suppose. I know you, though. Rosella Argos; crown princess of Argonia, the last and true daughter of Sellarus.” He glanced up, wearing that same confident smirk. “It’s almost charming to see the shock on your face.”
“But do I know you?”
He shrugged. “How does a wolf know its shadow? You know me, because I am a part of you. Nobody on your world can understand you…but I do.”
“Ridiculous.” Rosella Argos, proud and willful, scoffed. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. How can you understand me?”
“What are the whispers like?” He prodded, his voice as cold as ice. “The stares, leveled at you until you turn and they look away? They talk about you behind your back. You hear them, and they hush, and you pretend like you didn’t hear them.”
Somehow, he’d gone from sitting down along the beach to standing in front of her.
Sharp claws dug into her chin, pulling her face up to look into his eyes. Rosella whimpered, and to her horror, felt nothing from him. But that was impossible.
She received impressions from every person she met; that was the nature of her gift. The man in front of her…
Was a walking void. Empty, dark, and terrifyingly malicious.
A name came to her mind; she knew the histories as well as any who studied under Adept Rorth. Only one man had his looks…his burning red eyes…And that empty impression.
ZODA.
Deep eyes that flashed red burned into her. “They have names for you. Half-breed. Devilspawn. All their experience has convinced them that your mixed heritage can bring only ruin.”
“Stop.” Rosella whispered. “Please, stop.”
His other hand came around behind her, crushing into the small of her back and pushing her against him. She squeaked, for she didn’t have the voice to cry.
“It hurts. You want them to shut up. To keep their hurtful words to themselves…but that doesn’t help, because if you’re not careful, you can even hear their thoughts. It hurts, and it makes you angry.”
“No…” She was shaking now, and tried to close her eyes.
Her perfect blue orbs, the mark of her mixed blood, refused to obey. Those red points of light bored into her, burning scars into her. She could feel herself drifting away, losing control. It was so much easier to simply give up, as horrible as it was. Zoda was a force she could not win against.
“Why bother trying to convince them?” He growled, caressing her back with dangerous lust. “You could stop all their voices. That power is yours.”
“No…”
Zoda leaned in his head next to hers, and something wet grazed her ear. She shuddered; his tongue.
“You are what you are. Your destiny was written when you were conceived.” His hot breath stroked her slender lobe, and she could do nothing but stare ahead as the darkness consumed them.
“Mine.” His words went on, and the possessive tone finally let her scream.
The 22nd day of Ellini’s Rise (May 17th Earth Conversion), 2007 A.C.E.
The Capital City of New Arruk-Sen, Argonian Central Province
The Palace of Sellarus
---------------------------
She was having the dream again.
She knew it was a dream because the landscape of Argonia was nothing like this. The night sky’s stars were all wrong, and the wind blew the wrong direction, and most importantly, the almost skeletal man, wicked and sharp as a blade, did not belong. There was malice in his eyes, but no hatred. No, his expression, behind those eyes that were backlit with red in the night, were gleeful. Toying.
Manipulative.
“Do you know what this place is?” He asked, with a questioning tone that could have come from one of her own teachers. The girl shook her head. “I’m surprised you don’t.” He admonished her. “This is my home. Where I was born. Where I was raised. You came here once, long ago.”
“I did?” She echoed doubtfully. “I doubt that.”
He smirked. “Think what you will, then.”
“Should I know you?” There was something about him which seemed familiar, and it was more than the fact that this dream was a repeat of one from not so long before.
The grim figure stared down at his fingernails; for the first time, she realized how very much like claws they were. “That all depends, I suppose. I know you, though. Rosella Argos; crown princess of Argonia, the last and true daughter of Sellarus.” He glanced up, wearing that same confident smirk. “It’s almost charming to see the shock on your face.”
“But do I know you?”
He shrugged. “How does a wolf know its shadow? You know me, because I am a part of you. Nobody on your world can understand you…but I do.”
“Ridiculous.” Rosella Argos, proud and willful, scoffed. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. How can you understand me?”
“What are the whispers like?” He prodded, his voice as cold as ice. “The stares, leveled at you until you turn and they look away? They talk about you behind your back. You hear them, and they hush, and you pretend like you didn’t hear them.”
Somehow, he’d gone from sitting down along the beach to standing in front of her.
Sharp claws dug into her chin, pulling her face up to look into his eyes. Rosella whimpered, and to her horror, felt nothing from him. But that was impossible.
She received impressions from every person she met; that was the nature of her gift. The man in front of her…
Was a walking void. Empty, dark, and terrifyingly malicious.
A name came to her mind; she knew the histories as well as any who studied under Adept Rorth. Only one man had his looks…his burning red eyes…And that empty impression.
ZODA.
Deep eyes that flashed red burned into her. “They have names for you. Half-breed. Devilspawn. All their experience has convinced them that your mixed heritage can bring only ruin.”
“Stop.” Rosella whispered. “Please, stop.”
His other hand came around behind her, crushing into the small of her back and pushing her against him. She squeaked, for she didn’t have the voice to cry.
“It hurts. You want them to shut up. To keep their hurtful words to themselves…but that doesn’t help, because if you’re not careful, you can even hear their thoughts. It hurts, and it makes you angry.”
“No…” She was shaking now, and tried to close her eyes.
Her perfect blue orbs, the mark of her mixed blood, refused to obey. Those red points of light bored into her, burning scars into her. She could feel herself drifting away, losing control. It was so much easier to simply give up, as horrible as it was. Zoda was a force she could not win against.
“Why bother trying to convince them?” He growled, caressing her back with dangerous lust. “You could stop all their voices. That power is yours.”
“No…”
Zoda leaned in his head next to hers, and something wet grazed her ear. She shuddered; his tongue.
“You are what you are. Your destiny was written when you were conceived.” His hot breath stroked her slender lobe, and she could do nothing but stare ahead as the darkness consumed them.
“Mine.” His words went on, and the possessive tone finally let her scream.
