"Ah," he said, canting his head to the side. "I think I see. I have never required such a thing, but there are plenty who would call me a psycho."
Mathias then let his confused expression slip away and lifted his weapon in a salute. So now he had a minor grasp of how this woman worked, how her mind clicked and ticked.
"Well," he continued, "I thank you for fighting with me, even if you find it pointless." He twirled his jagged blade and knelt down before her, laying his weapon over his knee.
Alaria let her hands fall to her sides. For the first time in her well battled and very long life, a creature of darkness surprised her. His head was bowed, so she couldn't see his face or any of the signals of what was running through his mind. Not that she was completely sure she'd be able read those signals; he was an enigma to her now.
"If it pleases my mistress," Mathias said, keeping his head bowed through Alaria could still see the rictus grin slicing through the shadows with perfect white, "perhaps she could give me a reason to fight, and then we will both be very much satisfied."
"A creature of darkness would so quickly shed his convictions to fight for the light?" Alaria asked, a frown marring her lovely features.
"A long time ago," Mathias said, his voice somehow muted and restrained, "a young girl told me that there is no absolutes in darkness nor light. Perhaps it is time for me to prove her correct."
Showing posts with label Mathias. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mathias. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Any Reason, He Just Needs One
Alaria frowned, her eyes sliding closed and her brow twitching faintly. She remained standing straight, her arms folded over her chest. Suddenly, the shield morphed into lances and blades of light, rotated around her body once to force a back step out of the dark man, and pierced into his body. He looked like a voodoo pin cushion come to life, with how his back arched unnaturally and his black hair obscured his face into shadows.
Mathias chuckled, up-righting himself with a sickening series of cracks as the weapons of light started to become corrupt with an inky blackness. They started to fall to pieces, one by one, each piece shattering as it struck the ground and was no more.
"Oh, what fun," he said. The ragged holes throughout his form made him appear as if he was made of nothing more than a fabric of shadow, but it had been far too long since Alaria was surprised by this. They started to mend themselves, threads of black reattaching themselves together. "You truly are quite a magnificent woman, Alaria."
"Some way of showing it," she replied, "attempting to rend me in two every moment that you are awake. You are worse than the Order that I am forced to be a part of."
"You do not find this enjoyable?" Mathias asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward. "I find the sensation one gets when battling a challenging foe to be utterly...incomparable." His red tinted glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he peered at her, waiting for an answer that he knew he would not be able to comprehend.
"When there is nothing to be fighting for? There is no such sensation. Fighting for the thrill of a fight is not something I find enjoyable in the least."
Mathias paused.
Mathias chuckled, up-righting himself with a sickening series of cracks as the weapons of light started to become corrupt with an inky blackness. They started to fall to pieces, one by one, each piece shattering as it struck the ground and was no more.
"Oh, what fun," he said. The ragged holes throughout his form made him appear as if he was made of nothing more than a fabric of shadow, but it had been far too long since Alaria was surprised by this. They started to mend themselves, threads of black reattaching themselves together. "You truly are quite a magnificent woman, Alaria."
"Some way of showing it," she replied, "attempting to rend me in two every moment that you are awake. You are worse than the Order that I am forced to be a part of."
"You do not find this enjoyable?" Mathias asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward. "I find the sensation one gets when battling a challenging foe to be utterly...incomparable." His red tinted glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he peered at her, waiting for an answer that he knew he would not be able to comprehend.
"When there is nothing to be fighting for? There is no such sensation. Fighting for the thrill of a fight is not something I find enjoyable in the least."
Mathias paused.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Any Reason Will Do
Alaria leaned against a sheer cliff face, listening to falling water that was just out of sight through the forest to her right. It wasn't loud enough to drown out all other sound, but was still predominate. Her navy suit of plate mail glistened in the shafts of sunlight pouring in through the canopy, sparks of light racing along the silver embellishments and accents. She wore no helmet, so thick curls of brunette hair rippled over her shoulders, bouncing against the metal of her breastplate.
In a moment, arms clad in grey cloth reached out of her shadow against the cliff face and wrapped around her neck.
"Hello, beautiful," said a deep voice, before the arms tightened into a choke hold.
Alaria's reaction was fluid as it was instant; a dagger sprang from her high, armored boot and she jammed it between the second and third ribs of the one who seized her. She sprang away from the rock wall, spinning at the same time, and threw her arms out - one to sweep her heavy, midnight blue cloak behind her, the other to press her palm flat out toward him and focus her light into a shield around her. It glistened with her power - appearing as a golden mist encasing her body - cast a gold sheen over her, and made her hair and eyes appear to have gold flecks within them.
"Don't you get bored of this?" she asked, lowering her hand now that the shield was completed.
"Does a wolf ever tire of the hunt?" Mathias laughed as he pulled the dagger out of his ribs and tossed it aside nonchalantly. His messy black hair fell over his face, not obscuring the ruby of his eyes, and his smile was rictus. He drew his sword - a wicked item with a jagged edge made of blackened metal - and stepped toward her shining figure. His grey trench coat fluttered around his feet: it's movements were exaggerated as if the man was moving faster than he appeared. Today he had left it unbuttoned, exposing the black leather pants, silvered greaves, and the fact that he wore no shirt.
"Well, then aren't you just boring," Alaria replied, not going for the claymore sheathed on her back, passing under the cloak. "Only interested in spilling blood."
"Oh but there's such a thrill in it," he groaned, tilting his head back. A mild expression of pleasing memory flickered over his face. "The sound of life leaving the body, and the smell of fresh meat. It is exquisite."
Alaria sighed; all men were the same, even the inhuman ones. It was disheartening. Mathias' sword clashed against her mist, halting and sending a burst of sparks to the ground. Alaria didn't flinch, even as she felt heat against her stomach, where the blow should have landed.
Mathias' grin was homicidally gleeful now, and he pulled back only to assault her and her shield again and again. He searched for any weak spot, an exposed flank, but he knew he wouldn't find it. This woman's defensive abilities were more potent than her offensive ones. Something he couldn't understand, but he wanted to, so badly it hurt. He wanted to understand this strange woman.
In a moment, arms clad in grey cloth reached out of her shadow against the cliff face and wrapped around her neck.
"Hello, beautiful," said a deep voice, before the arms tightened into a choke hold.
Alaria's reaction was fluid as it was instant; a dagger sprang from her high, armored boot and she jammed it between the second and third ribs of the one who seized her. She sprang away from the rock wall, spinning at the same time, and threw her arms out - one to sweep her heavy, midnight blue cloak behind her, the other to press her palm flat out toward him and focus her light into a shield around her. It glistened with her power - appearing as a golden mist encasing her body - cast a gold sheen over her, and made her hair and eyes appear to have gold flecks within them.
"Don't you get bored of this?" she asked, lowering her hand now that the shield was completed.
"Does a wolf ever tire of the hunt?" Mathias laughed as he pulled the dagger out of his ribs and tossed it aside nonchalantly. His messy black hair fell over his face, not obscuring the ruby of his eyes, and his smile was rictus. He drew his sword - a wicked item with a jagged edge made of blackened metal - and stepped toward her shining figure. His grey trench coat fluttered around his feet: it's movements were exaggerated as if the man was moving faster than he appeared. Today he had left it unbuttoned, exposing the black leather pants, silvered greaves, and the fact that he wore no shirt.
"Well, then aren't you just boring," Alaria replied, not going for the claymore sheathed on her back, passing under the cloak. "Only interested in spilling blood."
"Oh but there's such a thrill in it," he groaned, tilting his head back. A mild expression of pleasing memory flickered over his face. "The sound of life leaving the body, and the smell of fresh meat. It is exquisite."
Alaria sighed; all men were the same, even the inhuman ones. It was disheartening. Mathias' sword clashed against her mist, halting and sending a burst of sparks to the ground. Alaria didn't flinch, even as she felt heat against her stomach, where the blow should have landed.
Mathias' grin was homicidally gleeful now, and he pulled back only to assault her and her shield again and again. He searched for any weak spot, an exposed flank, but he knew he wouldn't find it. This woman's defensive abilities were more potent than her offensive ones. Something he couldn't understand, but he wanted to, so badly it hurt. He wanted to understand this strange woman.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)