View Full Version : Dancing in the Rain ((open))
Storm clouds suddenly blotted out the pale full moon and stars, veiling the open plains in a deep, impenetrable shadow. A flash of lightning sparked overhead, and a low ear-shattering rumble followed shortly after. Before Joshua realized what was happening, a heavy downpour of rain had begun.
“Damn it, why now of all times?” Joshua cursed, breaking into a run towards the looming building ahead. Whispers in the nearby towns had told of a strange man wandering through, as if seeking a lost treasure. In the shadier parts of town, rumour had it that this man could turn simple lead into gold, which he then used to purchase supplies. It was unmistakable. The work of an alchemist.
He had been following these rumours for many hours now, but to no avail. The townsfolk could only provide the kitsune with a general direction to head, and nothing more. Now he stood in front of a large building. The peculiar and unique design of the building told him that it was a monastery. By now, Joshua was soaking wet from head to tail. His excitement had gotten the best of him, foolishly leaving town to chase fleeting clues just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. However, getting out of the thunderstorm right now was the most important issue at hand.
“Wait for me, Adonis,” Joshua murmured to himself as he stepped out of the rain and into the temple. The main hall was deserted. No one manned the out-of-place counter near the front doors, no one fueled the smothering fireplace in the corner, and no one lounged about on the many chairs and stools scattered across the hall. Joshua wasn’t surprised. No one in their right mind would be up and about at midnight during a storm.
A heavy leather-bound book sat open on the counter, a quill and inkpot next to it. Flipping through a few pages, the kitsune saw names, hundreds upon hundreds of them, each assigned a number. From the book and the decor of the lounge, Joshua concluded that this building must be an inn, maintained by monks who tended to weary travelers.
Reassured, the fox-eared boy entered a corridor to the right of the counter and turned at the first door, marked forty-four by rusty brass number plates. He tried the handle. With a small click, the door unlocked itself and swung open.
Joshua’s pale and rain splattered face brightened with childish glee. The room beyond was a small one, but extravagantly decorated and elegant in its own way. In one corner was a four-poster bed set with a deep maroon canopy and silk curtains. Silken bed sheets and fluffy pillows sat neatly on the bed, as if freshly made by a maid. On the opposite wall of the bed were a series of drawers and wardrobes, their highly polished oaken wood matching that of the bed. A huge mirror sat on the wall space above a vanity desk, framed with a gold-painted wooden frame carved with flowers, birds, and other such pretty things. On the wall between the bed and the drawers was a wide window, black curtains parted to reveal the heavy storm brewing outside.
The kitsune sighed happily and took off his dripping clothes, draping them over the back of the chair in front of the vanity desk and leaving himself in his relatively dry boxer shorts. Then he slipped under the soft covers of the beautiful bed, smiling to himself, having completely forgotten that he was trespassing in his moment of bliss. He lay there for a while, wondering how long it had been since he slept in a bed so comfortable and gazing out at the ancient apple trees swaying in the violent winds. The sound of wind and pounding raindrops ceased as he drifted off to sleep.
But there were no trees surrounding the Citadel.
((First off, excuse the lame title. =P It was the first thing that came to mind when naming it, and I really can't think of anything else. >_> Secondly, I'd like whoever is going to join this to understand the situation Josh is in before deciding to post, and I *do* expect him to be ambushed or attacked in some form, though that is up to the poster. XD Hopefully, whoever joins will be active too, since this is supposed to bring me back from the dead. =D))
(Actually, I like the title. If this isn't suitable, since I am only about 80% sure that my idea of what is going on is correct, please PM or IM me and I can change it.)
The Citadel was what people wanted it to be. Strange fantasies of how a battle could be drawn out in some dramatic scenario were played out amongst the millions of doors within. Though the building was not much larger then a normal cathedral, and with similar design. Though, some often thought that the front doors to the Citadel themselves were in fact leading to an empty place, whilst the entire citadel and everything within was as the arenas are, an illusion. Such an elaborate illusion, that illusions refracted within themselves; when you walked the halls of the Citadel, you quickly came to the realization that the interior is somehow millions of times larger then it should be; for that matter…most people haven’t even seen the basement. A labyrinth of corridors and secret rooms so large that, if mapped out, it should technically take up the entire area of the Corone Island and a bit of surrounding ocean. This, obviously, was a maintained illusion.
In one of the innumerous rooms under the public level of the famous building rested a boy. His arms and legs shackled with titanium braces, sitting hopelessly in a room plated with titanium on every side, and three sets of bars in front of him, the two outside sets titanium and the middle set was actually managed to be made in prevalida. Even to the casual glance, it could be discerned that someone was afraid this boy would break free. The monk’s weren’t, for while they are in the Citadel none of them could truly die. It was true that some of the Monks of the Citadel truly did have remarkable healing abilities, yet most did not. They simply maintained the illusion that fighters were ‘dying’ and being ‘resurrected’ before and after battles. However, what the mind believes the body believes, and even when the death is fake it is still traumatic. Once or twice, here or there, a warrior will be fine dying in the Citadel. The boy sitting there, however, hadn’t died a ‘few’ times. The number was becoming close to the hundreds, slowly but surely wearing down on his sanity –if any was left to be destroyed-.
As had happened so many times before, his merchant slave master and a monk opened the door to his cell and replaced his shackles with a portable version. Before they even told him, the boy knew that he was being led to another fight. The deal was the same, if he won, he got fed nicely and wouldn’t have to fight again that day. If he lost, he would be beaten and tortured by the cruel man that the monks did not know of. The boy wasn’t winning more often, and began to lose the will to fight.
Something lingered inside him though, that thrived on the murder and hatred. It had been growing stronger in the months of his imprisonment, and now was at the threshold of regaining control again. The boy is weak, and the demon waits for the opportunity to burst forth.
“Ah, my Gladiator, the monks have a new challenger for you. Nobody is there to fight him, so of course, you’re being sent into to massacre him and teach the man how badly he fights…or die. It’s up to you, really! Hahaha” The fat man chuckled obnoxiously before heading down a separate hallway to his private chambers. His bribes were still running thick to let the gladiator matches proceed. Bets on each of the boy’s battles gave him an almost 50/50 chance of regaining his bribe money.
After a brisk walk, they arrived at a door marked with a 44. The monk sighed at his task then unshackled the boy. Weaponless, a glance at the scenario would make a thoughtful mind brood that the child was suicidal. Walking into a battle arena without a weapon. First impressions are, more often then not, wrong.
The boy, Akuro, spoke plainly without any emotion as he entered the door.
“I am here to kill you.”
Even as the intruder entered into his room (though it technically wasn’t his room, either), Joshua simply turned over in his sleep. The excitement from the news of the strange alchemist and the frantic searching that had followed had been overwhelming for the little kitsune. Not even the booming thunder outside could wake the boy, much less the voice of a mere person.
In the few minutes that he had been asleep, dreams had already begun to form in his troubled mind. Familiar images flashed before his eyes as Joshua relived some of the worst days of his life.
A small fox creature sat shivering in the corner of a small metal cage. He shrunk further and further into the bars as gloved hands reached inside and grabbed the captive next to him by the ears. The larger female kitsune yelped, pawing desperately at the bars and at her pup. Joshua could only whimper in return, sinking ever deeper into the corner.
His mother clawed and bit at the scientist’s dragon hide gloves. Each day the kitsunes would put up the same hopeless fight, and each day they would be beaten into silent submission. The man chuckled slightly before banging the kitsune against the operating table several times to quiet her. Leather straps were then used to fasten the kitsune onto the table.
“Experiment number ninety-two on E-11FM9,” the scientist dictated as a scribe scribbled it down on paper. “Now, my pretty little Ell, we’re going to have some fun today. No you moron, don’t write that down!”
Gerald leered down at the kitsune nicknamed Ell, grinning as she snarled back. “I-I s-s-swear, by the b-blood of m-m-my kin… I’ll k–k-kill you,” she spat viciously, blood and spit flying.
“Of course you will my love,” the man replied simply, smiling. “Now, pass me the scalpel and scissors, Bob.”
The events following seemed to have been erased from his memory, but the sounds and voices still rang clear in Joshua’s head.
“Four compartments, much like the human heart. The right ventricle seems to be damaged. Oops, I hope that wasn’t my scalpel’s doing. One of the valves don’t seem to – oh. Is that it? Pitiful.”
“Is she dead… sir?”
“As you can see, the heart has stopped functioning, so I do believe so.”
“The crows, sir?”
“Shave off the fur first. Radasanthian ladies love kitsune fur. Oh, and don’t forget the eyes.”
“Yes sir. Right away sir.”
Even as the terrifying images washed away with time, the screams of his mother’s agony as she died never faded from Joshua’s memory.
Annoyance settled in as Akuro stared at the eared boy lying in the bed. The creature had completely ignored the fact that he intruded on what appeared to be a bedroom. Outside, thunder pealed louder then it did in the real world, and an orchard field surrounded this dreamscape. The door behind him still existed, but a 44 no longer marked it. Curiosity struck him as he opened the door, ignoring for a moment the sleeping occupant. Behind it, instead of the Citadel, an empty inn resided. It was either extreme imagination or coincidence that the arena was designed after an inn. Who would think to make a battle and then fall asleep, might as well ask to be assassinated. Then again, they might have requested someone with morals that would wake them before trying to kill.
With a sigh, the boy opened the door wider and exited, glancing around for a solution. Chairs, a counter, and a hallway that led on for a long while; not much to work with. With a soft sigh, Akuro strode to the book on the counter and glanced through it; nothing but names, endless names. The set up of this building resembled the Citadel in structure, but was more akin to a hotel of some sort. The lack of a bar ruled out it being a tavern, but there was some sort of dining area. Nobody inhabited any of the chairs, and it was quite lonely. The storm roaring outside slowly shook the boards of the building, making the boy feel as if he was on a massive ship.
Grasping one of the chairs as a support after a powerful crash of lightning that sounded awfully close, the Goth suddenly was struck by inspiration. Hefting the chair in his arms, he weighed its potency for a moment then moved out, returning to the open door. Hefting it in a position so that the legs were pointed at the extra-wide window behind the bed, Akuro waited. Holding his breath, he readied himself and steeled his nerves. Time was of an essence once it began, and he wouldn’t have time to wait.
Finally ready, Akuro thrust the chair forward, not bothering to watch the window explode outwards into the sharp wind. The hole was wide enough, he could tell from his peripheral vision, to allow a safe exit. Without checking if the noise had awoken his competitor, the goth reached down and grasped the bottom of the bed. Lifting with all his might, he gave one hard thrust upwards with hopes to defenestrate the unaware sleeper.
The inn was simply too small of a battlefield, and an orchard in a storm would give him the room to swing his Batou. It was better this way, so much better. Plus, this was sure to give the furry eared warrior a nice wake up call!
Instinct overcame the kitsune as his arms flew upwards to protect his head, even before he fully awakened. The day’s weariness did not hinder his feral survival instincts. He bounded off the tipped bed and out of the window on all fours, landing without grace in a puddle of mud and rainwater. He snarled at his aggressor, casting his gaze inside his borrowed room with squinted eyes. Joshua’s eyesight was not the best, and the rain that clung to his eyelashes and dripped over his face made it ever the more difficult to see.
He now deeply regretted having removed his clothes. Rain lashed against his pale skin, and though the night was warm for this time of year, he was chilled to the bone. Thankfully for the kitsune, as he was quite fond of the colour black, the last article of clothing on him was of that shade, else it would’ve been quite humiliating if it were the traditional white.
Thunder crashed overhead, and Joshua’s furry fox ears flattened involuntarily. He slowly rose to his feet, wiping the mud from his hands on his shorts. He was shivering, but he stood defiantly, and spoke to the general direction of the smashed window.
“What the hell do you want?! Why the fuck would you do that kind of weird shit?! Can’t you let a fucking traveler sleep in peace?!” Spittle flew from his trembling lips. He was furious.
His words, however, would’ve made Adonis wash his mouth out with soap.
Despite the furry-eared man’s rude comments, Akuro found it irresistible to do a somewhat nice deed. However, this deed helped him as much as it helped his disrobed opponent. With a grin, the boy reached down and grabbed the stack of clothing. Pulling the tipped bed out of his way he mounted the windowsill and glanced into the hard rain. Bolts of lightning arched across the sky, the clouds waging a private war, ignoring humanity for a moment. Glancing down to the half-naked combatant, Akuro simply chuckled softly then tossed the clothing and everything that was with it down to the man.
Hoping he would catch it, Akuro then launched himself from the window. Landing with a huge splash outwards in the water, one fist in the ground to break his fall, the boy slowly raised his gaze. The black mats in his hair were slowly untangling in the rain, the water around him beginning to turn red as excess dried blood washed off his clothing. Glancing around him, a sad smile quirked its way onto the boy’s face as an expression came into his mind. Like a plague… Considering it referred to him, the comment was detrimental to his mental health. Such a thing was already on the edge of the threshold of sanity, and tiny inner retorts like that only teetered him closer to the precipice.
Yes, that’s right. Deep down inside, you know that you are an unhealthy virus to humanity. Your existence in its very being is a disease on the soul of life. End it now, give up.
The boy knew where that voice came from. The voice that had not spoken to him since the incident at Lavinya; when he had thought he had finally won. It was coming back, and now Akuro knew it was stronger. There wouldn’t just be one battle taking place this night.
You can never cure yourself of me!
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