BlackAndBlueEyes
08-27-07, 09:59 PM
Closed to Firestrife.
I stood alone in the night, a deep sigh escaping between my black lips. Countless stars pierced the crystal clear sky. Miles in the distance, I could see the peaks of the Comb Mountains, a moon that was a week shy of being full slowly creeping over the jagged tops. A slight breeze blew through the field, causing the knee-high grass to rustle and brush up against my velvet dress. Several feet in front of me ran a shallow brook--aside from the wind, the water lapping on the shore was the only noise that reached my ears. My left hand casually clutched my right elbow as I took in the scenery, occasionally brushing a few rogue strands of wind-swept hair out of my face. This was a beautiful example of Corone's countryside.
So, out of all the places that the monks of Ai'Brone could've sent me, what in the name of whatever deity this fuck-up can be blamed on was I doing here?
I can't say I remember the last half an hour all that well. I walked into the massive, elegant marble halls of the Citadel and approached a monk, asking him to quell my boredom (sadly, the Civil War here in Corone has made work scarce for me--anyone who needed to die were already served by the Inquisition). One of the other monks mumbled something to his companion, and they complimented me on my previous victory, asking if I liked my prize. I kept tight-lipped about the Storm Sphere, until they got the hint and showed me to one of the nearby doors.
And here I stand in this field, waiting ever-so-patiently for my next opponent. I sighed again, this time with an overtone of impatience. Let's hope whoever it is gets here soon; I'm not sure how much more of this serenity I can handle.
I stood alone in the night, a deep sigh escaping between my black lips. Countless stars pierced the crystal clear sky. Miles in the distance, I could see the peaks of the Comb Mountains, a moon that was a week shy of being full slowly creeping over the jagged tops. A slight breeze blew through the field, causing the knee-high grass to rustle and brush up against my velvet dress. Several feet in front of me ran a shallow brook--aside from the wind, the water lapping on the shore was the only noise that reached my ears. My left hand casually clutched my right elbow as I took in the scenery, occasionally brushing a few rogue strands of wind-swept hair out of my face. This was a beautiful example of Corone's countryside.
So, out of all the places that the monks of Ai'Brone could've sent me, what in the name of whatever deity this fuck-up can be blamed on was I doing here?
I can't say I remember the last half an hour all that well. I walked into the massive, elegant marble halls of the Citadel and approached a monk, asking him to quell my boredom (sadly, the Civil War here in Corone has made work scarce for me--anyone who needed to die were already served by the Inquisition). One of the other monks mumbled something to his companion, and they complimented me on my previous victory, asking if I liked my prize. I kept tight-lipped about the Storm Sphere, until they got the hint and showed me to one of the nearby doors.
And here I stand in this field, waiting ever-so-patiently for my next opponent. I sighed again, this time with an overtone of impatience. Let's hope whoever it is gets here soon; I'm not sure how much more of this serenity I can handle.