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  1. Knightfall RISE OF THE FIRST KING Link to RPG (Not yet complete) While I'm not a huge fan of fan fiction and english isn't my native language, I still wanted to write a prelude story for my Bionicle RPG Knightfall. Because I don't consider myself a very good writer, feedback is appreciated. I'm also not sure if I should tone down some of the scenes. If I should, please notify me and I'll do it. Review topic -Prologue- The dead forest was quiet and still, shrouded in white mist beneath the grey sky. This peace was broken when the sounds of twigs snapping, dead leaves rustling and travellers speaking echoed amongst the leafless trees. "We should've stayed at that deserted town", one of them said. "Torroon, how many times do I need to ask you to shut up? If you didn't want to come then you should've stayed there", a fiery voice responded. The group temporarily descended back into silence and moved forwards. There were four of them, apparently of three different species. One of them was looking at a small and circular metal cylinder in her hand. "Are you sure that thing works?" the flaming voice asked. "It's a blessed artifact, of course it works. Always pointing at the same direction, no matter how you turn it. It's really great! Don't you agree, Otakata?" She received an irritated sigh in response. "Don't care about him, Asho", said another feminine voice near her, "Some people just don't want to be happy, I guess." The group arrived at a large, ruined building. Judging by the piles of rubble and the collapsed towers, it had been even larger once. Why was it here alone, in the middle of the forest? The serious man shattered the silence once more: "Alright, it was right where the scouts said it was. Torroon, use your Mask of Vision to scan the entire building and its surrounding area. Iruka, ready your crossbow because those things take ages to load. We'll search the rubble after Torroon tells us what we can find. Understood?" The tall reptilian man, Torroon, nodded but the other two didn't. "While I like your plan", the taller woman with the crossbow said, "Shouldn't we plan things together?" Otakata glared at her. "That way nothing gets done. A strong leader makes everything easier and quicker. I will not listen to complaints." He paused and looked in the eyes of each warrior. "I ask again, did you understand my orders?" For a tense moment, Iruka tried to draw out her knife, but changed her mind when Asho grabbed her shoulder and kindly asked her to calm down. The tall woman grunted and nodded quietly to the white and orange man. "The beast in the stairway should be lured out", Torroon said as the group stood before stairs that led underground into the darkness beneath the ruins. "There's not enough space there for us to fight effectively." Otakata nodded and turned to face the lime green woman. "Asho, go down there, awaken it and escape by using your Mask of Speed." Iruka stepped forwards. "No. I don't want her to get into danger. Can't we just throw a rock at it? Plenty of those around." Torroon shook his long head and said "It's a big creature. I doubt a tiny stone will awaken it. Although, uh, a bolt or a ball of plasma might work." Otakata rolled his eyes and formed a glowing sphere of liquid fire in his hand. "Get ready then, for this will anger it" He threw the ball down the stairway, which illuminated it and revealed a massive green snake slumbering on the steps. It unleashed a terrifying screech as fire engulfed its head, but didn't give in and instead launched itself up the stairs, its large mouth open and fearsome fangs revealed. Otakata pulled out his two-handed axe from the creature's throat. A crossbow bolt jutted out of its slimy skin that had also been cut with a sword. The snake no longer breathed. Torroon rubbed his long jaw. "I estimate the beast weighs 500 stones. Enough meat and organs to feed five Matoran for over thirty solar cycles. But because Asho had to slash it with her poisoned swords, all of the meat has been rendered inedible." "I do get a bit too excited sometimes, hehe!" Asho replied with a smile. Iruka chuckled. "And who would carry a dead body so heavy? We're more than a dozen kio away from the nearest portal and half a dozen from the nearest camp. Don't worry about it, Asho, you didn't do anything wrong." "Quiet, Torroon spotted treasure down there. Let's take as much of it as we can and return back to camp. It's getting late" Otakata said and entered the stairway, lighting his way with a floating sphere of plasma. They entered a dark hallway with a door on each wall. The one opposite the stairwell was decorated and seemed to lead into an important room. Otakata lead the way and said "We'll go through that room, grab whatever valuable we find and leave. Unde-" He turned around to face his companions, but paused when he didn't see Asho anywhere. Her voice echoed from the dark hallway to the left. "I saw something here guys! I'll just quickly check it out, don't worry!" Otakata burst with anger and shouted "For Artakha's sake, get back here! I didn't order you to go there!" Iruka pushed him. "Don't shout at her like that!" "She's a careless fool who endangers her own life! Why should I-" "We don't need to follow your orders! No one elected you to be our leader, we don't even need one! And don't you dare to insult her!" "Shut up! A group cannot function without a leader, and the rest of you were too cowardly to take up this task!" Torroon pointed at the hallway. "Uh, is Asho alright? I can't hear her footsteps anymore" Both of them turned to look. Iruka seemed worried while Otakata spat on the floor and muttered a curse. But then Asho emerged from the dark hall, making Iruka breathe a sigh of relief and embrace her. "I was worried for a moment! Thank Artakha you're alright! Don't do that ever again, okay?" Otakata chuckled dryly and glared at Iruka. "It's fine, there was nothing there. Now let's grab that treasure and get out of here!" Iruka, however, frowned. "You're cold. Is everything okay?" Asho remained silent for a moment. "Yes." Otakata kneeled before an altar in the room behind the decorated door. It was adorned with silk and golden trinkets, a beautiful icon of a humanoid figure extending its arms placed in the middle. "A shrine of the Great Spirit itself! Thank Artakha!" He closed his eyes and prayed. Iruka whistled as she examined the valuable figurines and icons on shelves near the walls of the room. "So how much treasure are you planning to keep?" she asked the group and picked up several amulets and bracelets. "I'll keep it all, maybe even wear some of the prettier trinkets!" Asho laughed, but Torroon muttered something to himself: "These seem to be Altet-type items. They've been found on four Dying Worlds so far. Characterized by round shapes, gilded surfaces and embedded gems. Very valuable." "Hear that?" Iruka asked Asho. "We'll be rich after this! Or well, even richer than we were before." Asho smiled, but there was something wrong with her smile. It was more like a malevolent grin. Iruka frowned. "Is everything alright?" A black tentacle burst out of Asho's back, closed the door behind her and locked it. Iruka dropped all the baubles and covered her open mouth with one of her hands. Torroon yelped and took two steps backwards. Otakata continued to pray quietly, unaware of what was happening behind him. Asho's grin widened, too much, and ripped apart her mask, unleashing a writhing mass of black tentacles, as black as blackness can be, which immediately dived towards Iruka and Torroon. The reptilian man managed to swat away the tentacles with panicked slaps while trying to pull out his sword with his other hand. Iruka fell on her knees and started sobbing, muttering Asho's name in grief before a tentacle plunged into her mouth. Otakata stood up and turned around, finally, but barely managed to grab the handle of his axe before another tentacle burrowed into his mouth as well. Torroon screamed in terror and leaned against the wall, still trying to get his sword out of its sheath. He closed his eyes. 'A Shadow. A Nightmare. A Wraith. A Dark Knight. Death and doom, standing before me.. They can shapeshift. Oh Artakha, they can shapeshift, it's true. I can't die. I must write this down, pass down this knowledge.. Artakha help me, give strength to my arm, banish away my fear..' He opened his eyes. Iruka and Otakata were limp, hanging from the black tentacles, the colour of their bodies slowly turning black. Their eyes and heartlight no longer glowed. Asho was no more, her body having turned into a pillar of pure darkness. Torroon closed his eyes again and finally managed to draw out his sword. 'Karzahni, Tren Krom, anyone, help me! I don't want to die! If any of you can hear my prayer, help your humble creation! Please, be merciful! No one deserves such a cruel fate!' Iruka and Otakata had turned into lumps of blackness that were absorbed into the Shadow. Several other tentacles were consuming various trinkets and items in the room. Torroon took a step forward, his sword shaking in his hand. 'I'm a Knight. I can't be afraid, for the gods are with me, even if they remain silent. I can kill this vile abomination.' He didn't believe his own lies. The sword fell on the floor, covered with blood. Torroon soon fell backwards on the altar, breaking it and shattering the icon of the Great Spirit, hand grasped around his bleeding throat. He had difficulty breathing and moaned in pain and regret. The last thing he saw was a tentacle starting to approach him. He closed his eyes and relaxed, for he had made the right choice. This way the Shadow wouldn't get his soul. And then he took his last breath.
  2. Author's note: I do not follow canon very closely, particularly with regards to BIONICLE anatomy. I have them about 60% biological (blood, organs, muscles, even hair) and 40% mechanical. They also have familial relationships, children and females and males in all elemental types. Matoran have an average lifespan of 250-300 years, while Toa live for nearly 5,000. Also, this is a "what if" story, although I'm not going to reveal exactly what was altered... That's something you have to discover for yourself.I rate this PG-13 for violence, death and mild romance.EDIT: Because of the length of this epic, there is a chapter index in the Review topic. Life is a Blank How do you fight a battle that has already been lost? Stave 1 Telet tried for what felt like the millionth time to slide his hands through the small gap between the chains and his skin. His chapped wrists protested against the pressure, but he ignored it, trying to work himself free. Even thin and wasted as he was, there was not enough space to get out. "I hate you." he spat at his captor. "That's your problem, not mine." the tall dark figure replied, touching his arm. For so strong a being, he was surprisingly gentle. "I think you're merely misreading what you've seen, but that's just me." "I didn't misread anything! You're not the Great Spirit, and you're not our savior! You may have everyone else thinking you are, but I know better!" A glimmer of a frown crossed the tall being's face. "Your resistance to my benevolence is growing tiresome, matoran." The touch became ever so slightly more rough. "Who else did you tell about what you found?" "No one." Telet tossed his head bravely. "I didn't have time before your Vahki grabbed me." The being stared directly into the matoran's eyes, trying to read the small one's thoughts. It did no good - whatever training this matoran had put himself through, it had included some sort of mind shielding. Which means he hasn't just been reading, the being realized. Someone has to have trained him. "Impressive. Not many can withstand my gaze. So, I must ask, who was your teacher?" The Onu-matoran never broke eye contact. "No one. I taught myself. It was useful when dealing with Vahki." "Yes, I suppose it was." The tall being removed his hand and took a few steps back, examining his captive again, searching for a weak spot. "And yet, those same Vahki managed to find you, and bring you to me. It seems you must not know everything." "I know enough to stop you." Telet smiled grimly. He could feel the pain wracking his chest now, and he choked on something. Spitting it out, a bit of blood ran down his lip. "What's the matter?" the being asked, hastening to examine his face. Telet fought against the urge to cough up more blood. "I'm not stupid. I knew if you didn't get what you wanted from my mind, you'd torture me. And I'd cave. If what the tablets said was accurate, people stronger than me have caved." Involuntarily, he gagged again. "Your Vahki-scraps weren't quick enough when they searched me." The being's face was full of suspicion now. "What have you done, matoran?" Roughly, he yanked the matoran to his feet, snapping the chains with his telekinesis. Telet merely smiled. The pain was gone now, replaced by a numbness. He knew that meant he only had a few seconds. "You... will never... win. Others... Others will find out... what I found. You can't win... You won't." Even as he grasped the knowledge that the matoran had poisoned himself, the being smiled. "Fool. I already have." He dropped the Onu-matoran to the floor carelessly, then turned to a Vahki who stood awaiting orders. "Summon the Toa. I have a few issues to discuss." Gyet, Telet willed his thoughts to reach his closest friend, he knows. They're coming. They're... looking... The tall one glanced back at the matoran as the Vahki exited the chamber. His heartlight was dark. "A noble, but pointless death." He kicked the corpse across the room. No matoran would keep that knowledge to himself, he mused. He had accomplices. And in that lies their weakness - matoran always crack when you threaten one of their own. He looked proudly at the polished silver walls which reflected his own gleaming form: ebony and gold armor buffed to a mirror-like sheen, huge wings that seemed like they belonged on a colorful rahi, and his ancient kanohi. I truly look like the Great Spirit. I am the Great Spirit, after all.Review
  3. Crimson It rules the night sky, it hides and plots when the red fingers of dawn rise above the horizon, vying for a position in the world above. Crimson at night, Crimson at morn, there is no respite from the color of blood, save the hours of day. And they are not enough. I spend my time watching, always watching, for the return of the red orb that haunts me always. As I stare at it tonight, the night I will, the night I must decide, it is no longer a curse, but a companion. A friend when no others comfort, a consular when no others give advice. When I first decided to listen to its advice, advice I then thought unkind commands, I had regrets. I wept, I hid, and I cursed it and its help in my ignorance, in my folly. But now… Now, I realize the errors of my way. I realize how wrong, how terribly, terribly wrong I have been. And I weep. I weep, for I did not listen sooner. I weep, for I did not escape this world at an earlier time, but refused to accept the truth in my foolishness.And so now I make amends, now I give myself to the beacon of light in the black void above me, the crimson salvation I love and trust. There are footsteps behind me, the sound of heavy breathing, the marching of boots, the swaying of the tall grass in this peaceful, tranquil field. In my hands is the way to eternal peace, and lo and behold; It is crimson as well!The first time I accepted the beacon of crimson, this enabler of tranquility was with me, in my hands as it is now. But it was not the color. It was not red. They didn’t understand, they begged me to stop, they tried to convince me that I was the one who didn’t have knowledge, that I was without wisdom. But I believed in the beacon, I believed in the one that is crimson, and I still believe, I believe more than ever.Grasping my aide, my helper and the servant of the beacon above, I realize that the color of my savior is no longer only on my helper. It covers my arms, splatters of it are located on my face. It is a badge of my salvation, and a badge I will wear proudly. With a final cry of euphoria, born from the beacon above, I plunge the aide into my heartlight, and the beacon covers me, carrying me skyward, now part of it as well. I join the Red Star above, and find eternal serenity.The Guard found him sprawled among the tall grass, a knife plunged through his shattered heartlight, blood stained almost every inch of his body, as crimson as the Red Star above, twinkling steadily in the shadowy void. His face was frozen in a smile of pure ecstasy, his glazed eyes staring upwards. His hands, stained crimson from his own blood, were frozen, his fingers curled in the grass, a sign of final struggle.The night sky, black and sparkling white, was stained with a streak of red, as was the field below. But they both ignored these dots, they both forgot how they were tarnished with crimson, the color of blood.
  4. Peach 00

    Angel

    Angel The day had gone. He was left alone, the mutant waters beneath Voya-Nui’s core trapping him under the rippling waves above. The waters were clear as he soared gracefully through the waters with unsurpassed swiftness and speed, bubbles creating behind him as he sped through the water current with ease. The lime-green and silver blur left behind him was too fast to even look at, the water sled his only friend he had left with him. The propellers on either side of it made it speed like a rocket through the slightly murky waters. But he did not care for petty time wasted on thoughts and stupid descriptions and words he had with him. He was washed up, no emotion left to use. He only wanted revenge.No one could stare the Toa in the eyes. The anger he held with him was one no one could imagine, the pain unbearable, the anguish and throbbing beyond horrific. And to feel no emotion was the worst of all, to not feel love, to not feel sorrow. But the only thing he could feel was pain, the scarred memories burned upon his mind. Those screams of terror and horror, the groaning and high-pitched shrieks of the Zyglak that had burned and terrorized his home with an ease unimaginable—all of it, scarred, the battle wounds he received gleaming red as it came to his mind. The petty blood and sinew spread, the tissue shredded with claws sharper than the most razor-sharp knife conceivable.All of it....bitter, acerbic, astringent memories blemished upon him...all of it an inconsequential disfigurement on his soul.‘Why, Mata-Nui, why?’ would be the continuous question asked over the years, constantly burning in his mind. It had been repeated over millions of times, too much to ask of the sacred Great Spirit. Again, no one could stare into the eyes of the Toa of Air: When you gaze into his eyes, you can only see burning hatred for the Zyglak, his own soul and maybe even Mata-Nui. It was burned upon him, undeniably exceeding any possibilities of living a happy life for him. He was comfortably numb in his own body, revealing no personal information to anyone and none at all of his emotions stuffed inside him, concealed by a mortifying attitude of hatred for anybody. Lesovikk was an empty soul.And he did not care to feel anything with him, not for years until the day he died by Karzhani’s hand. He had already stepped upon a path he did not want, messing with the being Karzhani already. Stepping onto that path once more would be foolish, but not as foolish as the past mistake shrouding his darkened path. And, though he protested against his mind, the horrific moments of that day were coming back to him slowly, as the deepening scar seemed to gleam alive to a terrifying moment of saddened life and death and the one soul he nearly killed himself over that died in his arms. Spend all your time waiting, For that second chance— For a break that would make it okay, There’s always some reason— As the squadron of Zyglak advanced up the beaches, concealed within the shadows of the wavering palms above their head—the continuous shared ­click-click-clickety-click noise of orders between the creatures, while one shrieked a high-pitched howl to signify their advance, to give a choice of sweet surrender or death for their victims. They advanced up from the shores with no further hesitation, and as they did, the Toa of Air watched from behind the palm’s top, as the group of fifteen rushed forward in a quick, scavenging way, on all fours they ran without any wait for answer. Essential that he would report and say they were coming, he decided to play it safe and not advance. But, perhaps, it would not matter.Lesovikk looked over, for he could see the other side of the island—he was shocked. Clouded with smoke, he could see the burning fires, the screaming in the city and in the villages all around. His eyes held anger, tears of pure hatred. As he grasped with great the light-as-a-feather katana off his back, he held it tighter, and one would think it might unwillingly shatter into a million pieces due to his strength of pure and utter force that was compulsory inside him.Thud! A loud, ringing, steel-against-wood sound echoed, as a million pieces of bark would be lifted from the tree, and the palm tree shook, sending Lesovikk into a wild ride as his body was flung into the air, a bad, ear-hurting crack sounding in his body that resembled one’s spine breaking. As he was left barely awake, he watched as he nearly hit the ground, while he still had the energy to release a gush of wind to send him upward like a cyclone. With this, Lesovikk leaped gracefully upward, lithe and as light as a feather as he prepared himself for the thudding when his feet touched the ground. Expecting his abrupt attacker to be below, he swung himself into a gut-wrenching spin.The spin was blurring, dizzying, and slightly nauseating, but Lesovikk could tolerate the sheer force and effect that was placed upon his body, while for others their stomach would have flipped several times from the force. While he continued to spin, his katana blade was outstretched in expectancy for his opponent to appear. As he stopped, he looked around. Nothing. But as he waited, his body was flung sideways, his back reaching the outer skin of a palm tree, uncomfortably sliding downward and laying on the ground with some pain enforced.As his eyes opened, he realized he had several deep, painful cuts across his right leg, a slice too deep on his back that seeped out blood with anguish. But Lesovikk withstood the pain, as he saw his opponent slowly walking forward. It was a Zyglak, as it shrieked the echoing, painful call that was a trademark to their tribe. Its claws were covered in blood and tissue from his leg, as he realized his leg was worse than he thought. Unsteadily and barely any balance to keep him standing, Lesovikk still leaped to his feet.Blood poured down his leg, while he quickly tried to run away from the Zyglak, while he continuously felt shameful with cowardice as he had realized what he had done. As he ran with sheer anguish unimaginable, he stopped and looked back. The Zyglak was not moving, but realized the Toa’s surrender and to only run.As it did this, it again let out a scream, echoing like a wolf’s howl but more like a bird would cry squawk. This is how the Zyglak’s call sounded, and finally Lesovikk looked forward in front of him and just ran limping as he did as he held his leg to try and hold the blood from dripping on the ground, to avoid from any unnecessary followers and unwanted guests. To feel not good enough, And it’s hard at the end of the day— I need some distraction, Oh, beautiful release... His destination was near. He realized that he was nearly there, towards his village where his friends and the villagers would hide in the caves. As he was there, lingering in the bushes, he saw an unwanted Zyglak patrol strolling by. Lesovikk thought twice of going into a complete banzai mode with his katana, but he abandoned it immediately. As the gleaming red eyes of the Zyglak traced over the area, the squadron of six moved onward without any precaution, running on all fours.As he leaned his body forward the slightest, he glanced left to right to see if anymore were coming, and finally rushed forward, hesitation seeming appealing in his mind every now and then. Lesovikk looked around as he stood in the middle of the dirt path—everything was set aflame, nothing but burning flames of agony and screams seeming reminisce to him.And, the saddest and most haunting sight was the one lying in front of him—the Toa of Fire comrade of his, his body sprawled upon the ground with dirt and mud covering him and dirty blood emitting from his insides as he saw the terrifying sight of a wooden, broken but sharp spear stabbed into the Toa’s armor.And Lesovikk clenched his fist, as his whole body seemed to shake violently, like a tremor in the ground. As he gawked his eyes towards the group of Zyglak that continued down the path in wild, beastly gallops, he set off in rage, his katana sword at the ready while he took his secondary one from the second scabbard on his back. Lesovikk sprinted forward with outrageous haste, as within minutes he reached the squad of Zyglak, and he screamed, his dignity and soul shattering. His eyes were blazing with anger in that moment of unexpected haste that broke loose inside him like wildfire, as he slashed his katanas this way and that with the Zyglak deflecting and some scattering in fear at the worthy attacker.Lesovikk threw his left-hand katana in a jagged spin, as it flew hard to the left in an ugly slashing manner as it tore through the Zyglak’s armor, while with a gush of air he blew the bodies straight into the hard, tangling amount of bushes that they were flung hard into. As he retrieved the katana again, the Zyglak were beginning to corner him, while again he only let himself become a vortex of wild movements, spinning dizzily once more as the katanas ripped through the Zyglak creatures like razor-sharp blades.Within five more minutes of wicked moves that destroyed the Zyglak squadron and several deep cuts slashing through Lesovikk’s armor once more, he rushed forward to the city, where the rest of comrades would possibly be, defending themselves against the wretch of the Zyglak tribe. Memory seeps from veins, Let me be empty, A little weightless and maybe— I’ll find some peace tonight. Too much was happening, overgrowing on the group of four Toa. The Toa of Electricity rushed forward, leaping upward gracefully and spinning herself as she landed lightly on her feet behind the Zyglak. As it turned around, a mound of electricity made it stop, its arms and legs buckling as the lightning stopped its workings. Nikila sprinted once more to retrieve her sword, a powerful blade with lightning intertwined around the shining silver metal of the blade’s core. Sticking the blade right through another Zyglak’s armor, the lightning zapped the insides of the Zyglak, the wiring of it weakening as the smell of electrical wires burning seeped into the air, black smoke revealing from the wiring of its arms and legs that connected to its torso.The shining amethyst armor of Nikila was a blur as she swiftly dashed forward, a rolling jump as she swept over another Zyglak. But this time, she was too hasty as a burning feeling of pain and agony reached her insides—she gaped at her waist to see blood and a cut seeming to seep slowly, the blood trickling down her leg. She held it with her right hand, as her body fell to the ground in a wrench of pain, her body limp and useless.As the lime-green clad Toa of Air reached the city square, he saw in a slow-motion fashion Nikila falling like an angel that had broken its wings. And this was the final straw that broke his spirit, raising him from a deadly climax of anger and lethalness that oozed from his soul, leaking as he dove forward in anger, watching as his comrades fell one by one nearby. As he sprinted forward, he slashed this way and that at the surrounding Zyglak, but then he didn’t care.He ignored the Zyglak beginning to surround the Toa of Air, as he picked up his comrade, beginning to rush away from them with Nikila lying in his arms, her body just barely on the verge of consciousness as her body was surfacing towards death. Her body was nearly lifeless.“Le-leso-vikk...” she stammered, her voice faint as she stuttered the Toa’s name to him. Lesovikk continued, hesitating every second, as the word came to his mind—hesitation. In the arms of the angel, Fly away from here, From this dark, cold hotel room— And the endlessness that you fear... Hesitation.Hesitation?Hesitation...It repeated, as innocence turned to pure agony and blame. Lesovikk ran, breathing reluctantly as he ran farther away, through the hills of stone as flashbacks of the Toa of Fire with a spear shoved through him came back. It appeared all around him as he climbed higher, flames burning nearby as the charging Zyglak were coming behind him, cordak blasters in hand and ready to fire the destructive missiles while their eyes were shimmering red in a blood color. Their claws were shining with dripping, scarlet blood as they galloped.Nikila’s yellow eyes grew fainter and less life-filled as he sprinted, thinking there was no end. The pure anguish he felt, the guilt, the blame...oh, the ravaging blame and guilt he felt as all Karzhani was breaking loose and unraveling before his eyes, as he looked over the several stains of blood on his hands from that moment and before when he held the blood of his leg, while wounds were building as recent memories for him. All of the blood was dried and fresh intertwined as all he could here was the distant beating of his heartlight on and off, rapidly increasing in pace.He could not tell if he was living a very horrible nightmare or reality. You are pulled from the wreckage, Of your silent reverie... You’re in the arms of the angel, May you find some comfort here... Behind him he looked, black and white images racing in his mind as it conjured recent flashbacks of those past horrifying minutes that flashed before his eyes, and all of it seemed like seconds. Behind him were the dead bodies of his friends, and in his arms was a being he loved, one that had become more than a friend in the times before this.“Lesovikk...” the voice came again, and Lesovikk looked down at her waist, which he had quickly had the time to put a single wrap of bandage over from his own wounds, which had easily been covered in blood in those past minutes. Lesovikk looked at her face and expression, which had had an eerie smile crossed there. So tired of the straight line, And everywhere you turn— There’s vultures and thieves at your back, The storm keeps on twisting... Lesovikk continued, as finally he reached his objective and destination, the final moments—the cliff face. As he reached the very top, below he saw the large, running waterfall, that lead to the ocean surrounding the island. As he looked behind him, he realized that he was cornered, and the only thing that he had left was to freefall downwards towards the endless ocean bottom.He turned around, seeing the endless, numerous amounts of Zyglak here and there, and finally the leader shrieked a call of defeat to the others behind him. And Lesovikk just fell backward without any reason. His body fell, with his hands gripping Nikila as he continued to fall. Creating an easy air cushion as he clenched his hand in a fist, letting one hold Nikila, he outstretched it, falling slowly on the invisible cloud of air, as it was an illusion to the Zyglak hundreds of feet above, looking like they were just relentlessly falling to their dooms.As they reached the very bottom, the water traced their bodies from head to feet, and the two were engulfed with fresh water, while Lesovikk reached the water’s surface, revealing himself behind the waterfall and finding the secretive cave that he briefly went inside to lay the weak body of Nikila against the cavern wall.That had been where he wished to reach. You keep on building the lies, That you make up for all that you lack, Don’t make no difference, Escaping one last time— “Lesovikk,” another weak, but sweet-sounding voice came, Nikila’s. Lesovikk glanced over at her as he himself laid next to her against the cold, stone wall, the water soaking on Lesovikk staining the walls quickly. He smiled as he looked at her face, eyes beginning to fill with water and trickling down his mask were tears.“Yes?” he gently replied in slightly sorrow-filled voice.“I...I love you...” she slowly whispered, as she weakly tried to turn her head towards him, to lean forward and to lie against him. Her head fell on his shoulder, as she tried to wrap her arms around him, but she did not have the energy, or strength. And Lesovikk clasped his hand in hers, her own tears falling upon his hand. It’s easier to believe In this sweet madness— Oh, this glorious sadness, That brings me to my knees... The cave still remained damp, cold and dark to the two, as the small sound of dripping water leaked through the silence that the two kept. And Lesovikk slowly replied, “I love you, too, Nikila,” And both their eyes closed to remain in the cold silence of the cavern, as finally Lesovikk took her body and held it in his hands, his head laying against hers and eyes closed for both as Nikila’s life slowly faded away, and Lesovikk was left lonely, silence once again deadly to his soul.And it came again to him:I love you, too, Nikila...And that one word that made him feel the agony, the pain, the anguish, the bitterness, the loss of friendship—the lives and friends lost, the guilt, the very reason he would avenge their souls—the only thing that made him to blame for in his mind for everything that had happened all in that day, when nightfall began to rise on the outside and still the cool whoosh of the waterfall’s water pouring; that one word that had him all to blame for it:Hesitation. In the arms of the angel, Fly away from here, From this dark, cold hotel room—, And the endlessness that you fear... And the memories ended for Lesovikk, as he emptied the tears from the inside of his mask. It was too much to bear as the burden came down upon him, the reason why everything had gone wrong, why it all happened—himself. And Lesovikk could not bear that burden, that weight—it was too much for him to carry upon his shoulders. But it had happened, haunting him still to this very day that he lived in haunting of it.It crept on him again. You are pulled from the wreckage, Of your silent reverie, You’re in the arms of the angel— May you find some comfort here... That burden...the one he had carried upon himself for years at a time, one that made him wonder what would have happened if he had possibly expected that, all of it before it came crashing down upon him. He would not have been here, down in Mahri-Nui, where his soul was left empty, no emotion that he could share but tears and pain, no friends with him and the only thing he had—a simple sword and a sea-sled that he would soar with among the waters of the underwater island where creatures lurked in caves.He was left in the dark, where he did not feel he belonged in all this time of waiting for a shining light of hope to come, and the darkness shattered and the shadows unveiled from his mind. Not anymore to be left in a lurking of memories of pain, anguish, agony, astringency, mortifyingly, throbbing, pain unending. Immortality of pain and revenge lurked still in a scarred memory, and an eternity it would take to remove it and to look forward to hope and none of the despair that kept with him now.And that was a path that would take years to conquer and go down in happiness.But he would set out to do it, to become a hero and to show the leadership he had yearned for all those years ago that he had failed himself with. He would regain the respect he thought he deserved, the respect he would set out to earn in the empty, mutant waters of Mahri-Nui. He would find friends to lead and friends to not fail again You’re in the arms of the angel— He would indeed. May you find some comfort here... ---This is really out of date, and I plan on revising it very soon. The story is based off of Lady Kopaka's picture Hesitation (don't have the link to the picture, although those of you who have seen the piece of art will see the inspiration), and although at first I wanted the viewpoint to be based from Nikila's perspective, I switched it to Lesovikk's point of view before making last-minute edits to it. The song is by Sarah McLachlan, entitled Angel. I mainly posted this as a 1,000 post special (1 over, but it's still a specal), so yeah.Comments and critique are appreciated. =)
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