Post by durwin on Dec 8, 2005 18:34:31 GMT -5
Dusk came, a hush of shadow streaking the falling sun. It was then, in the
twilight hour, when the business of Dion fell to a whisper. There was a
faded silence in the purple gray haze cast over the church, as a lone man
looked out from the hill. He could still remember her, his ladylove, her
face and the way her hair smelled. And now she was gone, and he was left
alone.
He heard them before they even approached, for they were the only sound in
the cast of silence. He knew who they were, and he felt their presence
behind him as he put his hands onto the balcony and looked at the horizon.
“You still come here.” Said a male voice behind him, and he winced at the
familiarity of it. He turned. There they were, the dark mage, and the blind
prophet leaning on a staff.
“Aye,” was all the man said in the hungry, uncomfortable silence. And then
finally, “It has been a long time.”
The blind prophet nodded. She brushed hair away from her milky, unseeing
eyes. “A very long time,” she said, and bowed her head, as if she was
embarrassed to speak.
“Why do you come now, at this time?” the man said, “At the worst possible
time?”
The blind prophet suddenly lifted her head, and reached out a shaking hand
toward the man’s neck. The man did not flinch at the sudden movement, but
waited as the blind prophet pulled something from his neck. It was a chain,
with a golden ring. The man was flooded with memories at the sight of it,
memories that were beautiful and yet at the same time pained him.
“You still wear it,” The blind prophet said. “Why?”
The man said nothing.. He caught the black eyes of the mage that were like
endless gaping wells. The mage half smiled.
“I know why.” The blind prophet said, and her words were barely audible. “It
is because you do not think the golden circle is truly dead.” She handed the
golden ring out in her palm, and the man took it.
The dark mage finally spoke up. “You know why we come at this time. Because
it is the right time. You are our leader. It is your time again.”
“I can’t,” the man said. “The golden circle is gone because of me. I am not
the same man who was your leader.”
“And we,” the blind prophet said, “Are not the same people you used to
lead.”
“We have changed.” The dark mage said. “You have changed. We have gone our
separate ways, and yet we are still connected.”
“There is an evil coming,” the blind prophet said, “an evil greater than we
have ever known. And there is no one standing in the way of it. Despite the
hurt we have all felt, we are the front line.”
“The front line of defense.” The mage said
“The avant.”
The man tucked the chain into his pocket, and pulled his swords from there
sheathes. He smiled, but the pain was evident in that smile. He looked at
the two before him. “We are all that remains of the golden circle,” he said.
“A new order will rise from what has been lost,” the mage said.
“the Avant Guards.”
The man tested his swords in the air. He had not used them in a long time.
There weight was an old weight, one that he had forgotten but instantly
remembered.
“It has been a long time,”
Written By The Ever Talented Kalypso
twilight hour, when the business of Dion fell to a whisper. There was a
faded silence in the purple gray haze cast over the church, as a lone man
looked out from the hill. He could still remember her, his ladylove, her
face and the way her hair smelled. And now she was gone, and he was left
alone.
He heard them before they even approached, for they were the only sound in
the cast of silence. He knew who they were, and he felt their presence
behind him as he put his hands onto the balcony and looked at the horizon.
“You still come here.” Said a male voice behind him, and he winced at the
familiarity of it. He turned. There they were, the dark mage, and the blind
prophet leaning on a staff.
“Aye,” was all the man said in the hungry, uncomfortable silence. And then
finally, “It has been a long time.”
The blind prophet nodded. She brushed hair away from her milky, unseeing
eyes. “A very long time,” she said, and bowed her head, as if she was
embarrassed to speak.
“Why do you come now, at this time?” the man said, “At the worst possible
time?”
The blind prophet suddenly lifted her head, and reached out a shaking hand
toward the man’s neck. The man did not flinch at the sudden movement, but
waited as the blind prophet pulled something from his neck. It was a chain,
with a golden ring. The man was flooded with memories at the sight of it,
memories that were beautiful and yet at the same time pained him.
“You still wear it,” The blind prophet said. “Why?”
The man said nothing.. He caught the black eyes of the mage that were like
endless gaping wells. The mage half smiled.
“I know why.” The blind prophet said, and her words were barely audible. “It
is because you do not think the golden circle is truly dead.” She handed the
golden ring out in her palm, and the man took it.
The dark mage finally spoke up. “You know why we come at this time. Because
it is the right time. You are our leader. It is your time again.”
“I can’t,” the man said. “The golden circle is gone because of me. I am not
the same man who was your leader.”
“And we,” the blind prophet said, “Are not the same people you used to
lead.”
“We have changed.” The dark mage said. “You have changed. We have gone our
separate ways, and yet we are still connected.”
“There is an evil coming,” the blind prophet said, “an evil greater than we
have ever known. And there is no one standing in the way of it. Despite the
hurt we have all felt, we are the front line.”
“The front line of defense.” The mage said
“The avant.”
The man tucked the chain into his pocket, and pulled his swords from there
sheathes. He smiled, but the pain was evident in that smile. He looked at
the two before him. “We are all that remains of the golden circle,” he said.
“A new order will rise from what has been lost,” the mage said.
“the Avant Guards.”
The man tested his swords in the air. He had not used them in a long time.
There weight was an old weight, one that he had forgotten but instantly
remembered.
“It has been a long time,”
Written By The Ever Talented Kalypso