The room and its outturned chairs falling silent once more. Chiri sat, curled in the lap of the man at the head of the table. Her feet swung playfully over the arm of the chair, she fiddled absentmindedly with open buttons of his shirt. Sighing as she pulled at the tiny loose thread she found there, Chiri rested her head contentedly on Cazer’s chest. His embrace, the closest place she would ever be able to call home, she relaxed now as she returned to it. The imperfect and broken pieces of themselves fitting together, to create something stronger. Chiri knew that it was flawed and fragile, but even if just for this moment, it was hers. Not the light and airy sensation that she thought love might be, it sat heavily on her chest as the ends of the thread she had been fingering frayed. Knowing this attachment to only be temporary, Chiri let the thread slip through her fingers. Unable to communicate her contentment at finding herself to be back in his company, her slender digits wandere
An altar candle placed in the center of the room, its solitary flame was the only beacon of light that remained amid the gloom of the large room. Flickering as it stood alone in its struggle to combat the darkness, Chiri watched its memorizing movements as she contemplated her decision. Made drowsy by the dimly lit atmosphere, she sat uncomfortably within the confines of the magic circle. Pulling anxiously at the restraints on her hands, Chiri was weary but ultimately unable to relax in the all-encompassing silence that surrounded her. The attestation Cazer had given her prior, being less than reassuring, Chiri was not keen to undergo the process. Warned that she was almost guaranteed to endure a great deal of agony. The only comfort Cazer could possibly offer her was that he would endeavor to limit the amount of time she was made to suffer. A greater mercy than she had been afforded by most, Chiri resigned herself to the unavoidable consequences of her promise to Cazer. A result of
A few fluffy clouds present on the bold blue of the sky, Chiri heaved a heavy sigh as she watched them lazily drift overhead. Their soft forms bobbing far above the tall white spires of the steeples, she envied their freedom from the matters of the humans below them. Some priests and other members of the clergy eying her suspiciously as they shuffled through the entrance, Chiri stood unmoving from her post. Their hushed conversations humming as they passed down the narrow stone corridor, which led to the inner sanctum of Crosson, they gradually faded away to intermittent silences. Shifting uncomfortably on the opposite side of the arched entryway, Allen pulled at the neck of his collar again. His bright and honest appearance in stark contrast to her foreboding demeanor, they stood like contradictory bookends at their sentry post. Her eyes crinkling from the intensity of the light refracting off the city’s pristine white buildings, Chiri shielded them with a hand as she remarked on h
Allen’s head craning backwards, his eyes followed the many buttress upwards towards high the arched ceiling that stretched out overhead. Entering into the main cathedral, he had not anticipated encountering a splendor that was unlike anything he had ever seen. The sky replaced by a vivid tableau of the heavens, each inch of the immense expanse of the ceiling above them was painted in painstaking detail. Angels and gods all intermingling in what seemed to be a joyous celebration of their coming together in peaceful unity. Some played music, while others danced or reclined languidly onto fluffy idyllic clouds. However, there were a few which turned the seething scrutiny of their gaze towards a darken corner. Only an afterthought to their celebrations, it was only a relatively small portion that depicted some unfortunate sinners falling from grace.The portrayal of the damned silent cries of distress as they desperately reached out to those whom were blissfully ensconced on their happy j
A mild summer’s day in Ineset, Chiri flicked through the pages of her tome idly. The book held above her nose; it shielded her eyes from the sun as she lied in the luscious carpet of grass in the courtyard. A mild breeze rustling the pages and a few strands of her dark hair, Lance paused long enough to tuck the offending strands back behind her ears. Chiri’s head resting on his lap, her eyes did not remove themselves from the text to acknowledge the gesture nor did she mind it. Their companionship mostly circumstantial, neither felt the need for words to be spoken between them as they engaged in their separate pastimes quietly. Lance continuing to tinker with whatever new artifact had fallen into his possession at the time. There was only the sound of metal clinking and leaves brushing against each other in the wind to distract Chiri from the lines of her book. Chiri and Lance, both trainees at similar times, they were alike in the regard that they had no aspirations for their career
The stern faces of each tombstone erected in their regimented lines, they stood guard solemnly over their plots. Like rows of grim dominos amongst the hardened earth of an early spring, they were placed in order of the most recently fallen. The sky above, plagued with persistent gray clouds, they reflected a somber light on the graveyard below. The entire scene awash in a macabre hue, the world seemed to be devoid of color in this solitary moment. However, there amidst the company of these melancholic graves, stood a sole mourner. At the site of the cemetery’s most recent interment and dressed in a black that did not become her, was Annaliese Marchette. Her head bent and eyes cast downward at the freshly carved name on the stone in front of her, she had remained in silent reflection long after all others had departed. The lengthy morning service beginning before the frost had even thawed for the earth, several colleagues and family members had spoken words of remembrance over the fre
Clattering as she waded through the collection of miscellaneous artifacts and weapons, Chiri gravitated towards the one chair she could distinguish amongst them. Still not feeling entirely back within her own body, she tilted the seat forward unceremoniously. Its contents emptied rudely onto the floor they clanged loudly as she took their place. An audible aggravated hiss released from Lance; he made no comment as he fussed over the pile of metal gauntlets she had so heartlessly discarded. Paying him little mind, Chiri shoved over the papers and tools lying on his desk. Creating a space with the heel of her boot, Chiri rested her feet on a corner of its rectangular wooden frame. Reclining into her reclaimed seat, she ignored the grumbled complaints of Lance and the clangor of various objects as he fought his way around the room. Busying himself with searching through the hoard, Chiri could hear him rummaging through the draws and cabinets besieged by more of his treasured items as he
Twirling the pen distractedly between his fingers, Cazer glanced over the pile of papers on his desk towards a little pocket watch he had placed next to the inkwell. The drum of its slow minutes proceeding agonizingly, he counted each as he awaited Chiri’s return. The two had scarcely been in the same room alone since the incident in Crosson, he was acutely aware of the slim probability of her entering into his office willingly. However, he still listened for the sound of her gate as it descended down the corridor or the soft click of the door across the hall closing. Whilst admittedly not enjoying the repercussions of his actions, Cazer could honestly not find even a fragment of regret towards his decision to extract Chiri from Crosson when he did. Although he may have been able to muster some sympathy towards her feelings of betrayal in regard to his arguable abuse of their shadow agreement, Cazer could not issue an apology for something he felt no remorse towards having done. How
The office filled with the serenity of the subtle white noise of each person’s solitary or otherwise mundane activities. It was the frustrated sigh which stood out amongst them as Chiri stared at the black and white squares of the board in front of her. The mild amusement that her opponent as he derived some enjoyment at her expense, evident by the sly smirk on his face. Chiri finally plucked her bishop from the board, her brow furrowing as she placed the piece in the last movement available to her, she slouched back onto the soft leather couch in resignation.Aware of her defeat without him having to state it, Cazer still smiled as he declared smugly, “Check mate.” Sulking as she sustained another loss, Chiri crossed her arms in front of her chest as she muttered back at him sourly, “I hate this game.” The smirk of confidence he possessed from beating her repeatedly at chess that morning, unrelenting as he continued to stare back at her. The expression would have irked her more had s
The smell, like death and decay condensed. It seemed to cling to the walls of the tunnels and hang in the air as repugnant as one might find a corpse which still swayed in its noose. The heinousness of the scent, only becoming more egregious as they continued further into the catacombs beneath the bustling streets of Ineset, Allen found that each breath he drew provoked a repulsed churning in his stomach.A rat, made fat by feasting on the bones of the deceased and the other hapless creatures that might live within them, brushing past his foot. Allen released a mild gasp, before recoiling back against the wall of the tunnel in disgust. Already traversing the morbid labyrinth for at least an hour now, he began to hope for any sign of the rogue mages’ hideout to be uncovered soon. Whilst acknowledging that their unlit corridors and seclusion were perfect for those who did not want to be found, Allen could not fathom how it was inhabited by any member of the living for long.Their route,
The small wooden frame of the bed moaning as someone shifted on its lumpy twin mattress, the noise prompted Chiri’s eyelids to flutter open slowly. Awoken from her deep sleep, she rolled onto her back to observe the person who sat on the edge of the bed they had shared. Her long hair tangled beneath her, she watched his broad back silently as he pulled on the few articles of the uniform that had been scattered about the floor during the night. Her gaze, apparently felt by him after a while, Allen Pierce turned. Greeting Chiri with an affectionate smile as she blinked the sleep away from her eyes, the skin around his blue gray irises crinkled from the extent of the contentment within this moment. The springs of the mattress displaced again as he leaned towards Chiri, Allen cupped her cheek tenderly in his hand to say gently, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” His thumb caressing her cheekbone lightly as he spoke, Chiri smiled back at him tiredly from the pillow. Her hand, rising
Amidst the forgotten streets and the forlorn inhabited who were relegated to their drenched cobblestones, was a place that remained far removed from the eyes of the public. The location of the business, only known to the few who required specialized or otherwise illicit magic items, Allen was perplexed to once again discover himself at the threshold of Ekral Manstein’s shop. The dismal weather, causing the gray steps that led down off of the street to become slick beneath his feet. Allen descended them cautiously, before finally arriving at the door. Issuing a knock, he passed a long minute or two out in the persistent drizzle, before the little compartment on the door slid open. A pair of dark and tired eyes revealing themselves to him, they scrutinized Allen, whose hair and clothes had come to cling damply to him as they grumbled, “What brings you here?” A few drops of rain from the mantle of the door, falling to slide down the back of his neck, Allen shivered as he replied, “I need
The final weeks of summer saturated by a persistent drizzle, it left gray pools on the footpath. Branching out into different avenues between the headstones, Cazer did not pause to consider the names etched on each nor did he become weighed down by solemn reflection as he progressed past them determinedly. The patent leather of his shoes, marred by the dirt of the cemetery as he entered into the more ancient part of the Alliance burial grounds that was shaded by the gnarled branches of a few mature trees. Cazer proceeded past the mossy and worn graves until he came to the one he sought.A sandstone mausoleum to one of the Alliance’s founders, Regus Sieg. The foreboding bars, clamped shut over the structure’s hollow opening, were only made more grim by the effects that time had over its once pristine stones and columns. Weathered and darkened by centuries of dreary days, such as this, Cazer mounted the few steps that led up to its gates. Placing a hand onto its cold metal, there was a
The room, silent, aside from someone tapping out an odd stunted interpretation of time with their fingers. Allen discovered himself in the company of an unusual assortment of friends and acquaintances he had never once expected to encounter. All there under the reasonable assumption of what joined them together, Tristan Hurst, Morose Akena, Horus Crouse, and Lance Armistice eyed each other awkwardly from their varying positions amidst the office. Unsure of whether to broach their purpose for being there or to feign normalcy by engaging in small talk as they awaited the final members of their group, Allen found that his foot too now drummed along to the peculiar rhythm set within the room. The anxious wiggling not ceasing, he contemplated the wisdom of joining these diverse characters together in their mission. Although operating seemingly well in their exasperating partnership, Cazer and Allen acknowledged that their plans to launch an more offensive strike on the Moon Gate mages wou
The rank smell of decay and mildew immediately enveloping her, Chiri knew that she had rejoined the dark catacombs where the cohorts of the Moon Gate’s malicious hoard gathered. Hissing as her form solidified again in the tunnel, Chiri again grasped at her side. Unsteady, the weight of her body found some stability as her back slumped onto the damp wall beside her. Expecting to be met with some snide remark in regard to her injury instantly upon her arrival, Chiri was to discover instead that her entrance had hardly been noticed amidst the affairs that had preceded her. Voices heard in the large junction between the tunnels, Chiri turned her head lazily in their direction. Leaning wearily against the dark tunnel, her eyes pinched together mildly as she squinted at the figures in the opening. Most of them the usual suspects that collected around Ryker Crouse, there was one amongst them that was only vaguely familiar to her. The woman’s hair matted and clothes dirty and torn from the t
Hurried steps and panicked voices arising from outside the Dawn Gate, the source of their alarm was indeterminate from what corner of the empty ward Chiri occupied. Disinterested by the distant sounds of their mingled unease faded into a buzz of unrest as she closed her eyes against the persistent pain which plagued her. Clutching the saturated fabric more closely to the gouge at her side, Chiri grimaced as blood oozed out from between her fingers and onto the pestine floor beneath her. The wound, not having cut deep enough to touch any vital arteries or organs. It only posed the immediate threat of blood loss as she remained a solitary entity amongst the empty cots of the infirmary. The injury’s presence, no less vexing in the least, this was to be the reward Chiri enjoyed from another one of Ryker’s misguided assignments. Reclining against the wall slowly, she hissed an embittered curse through gritted teeth, “Sodded slug suckers!” Fortunate enough to find that no one else should b
“Those damn toothy bastards can burn in Hell for all of eternity!” Cazer roared, the doors slamming shut behind him in order to punctuate the vehemence of this outburst. They were then battered again as he landed a ferocious kick onto the barrier of the office. The eruption of his fury causing the solid doors to shake, Cazer barely regarded the man who sat observing the dramatic display from his position on the couch.Allen’s eyes following him warily as he stormed into the room, Cazer found the silent pressure of his judgemental stare of little consequence as he marched over to his desk. Breathing agitated and his hair disorderly, he jerked open a drawer on the bureau. Withdrawing a half-full decanter and wiping the rim of a glass on the desk that had previously been used for water, Cazer poured himself a sizable portion of the spirit. Not offering any to the Hunter, he waited for Cazer to down the drink before asking, “No luck, I take it?” In too foul a temper to accept the smugness