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 Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 12:40 am
[ X] - [Knight ORP] Maps and Measure
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 12:41 am
[ X] - [MISTRAL] Level 6: Weapons Development
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 12:42 am
[ X] - [MISTRAL] Level 0: Lobby
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 12:42 am
[ X] - [BABYLON] Empty Chairs and Empty Tables
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 12:43 am
[ X] - [REG] Heaven on Concrete (Leda and Sarras)
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2014 9:25 am
He wasn't sure when he had lost sight of Leda, but the senshi, for all of the bright colors in her hair and her attire, was far quicker than him, and it had not taken much for him to lose track of her. For a normal person, they might not have felt as angered or frustrated as he did, but for Sarras, Page of the Cosmos, this was completely unacceptable! He was an outdoors man and had been on plenty of hunts before. Tracking down bucks and other game should have been second nature to him now, and tracking down a single senshi should have been easy, given how their aura gave them away.
Yet, she was gone. One second, she was there, and the next? Gone. Simply gone. Sarras couldn't explain it! A rational mind would have realized that she had likely taken an opportunity to power down and thus she completely disappeared off his radar, but at the moment, Sarras was anything but rational. His mind was racing but none of the whirling thoughts and emotions that were confined in his noggin were rational. Logic had no place in his mind right now and any inkling of it was chased away by the truth of the matter.
His suspicions were correct! He was right all along. The Negaverse was involved in Victoria's death all along, but that wasn't what sent him into a frenzy. No, that alone should have justified everything in becoming a knight and had made everything he had put up with since then worth the trouble. His humiliating outfit, the deaths he had witnessed and the death he had caused with his own two hands, all of that would have been justified in seconds had that been it. An officer of the Negaverse had killed his mother and drove his brother insane... but they weren't alone.
She had helped.
Leda. A White Moon senshi. An ally. And ally had helped, though unwillingly.
Mistakes were made, he told himself, as he continued running along the rooftops, looking frantically for any sign of her, in case she hadn't powered down. Was he angry with her? Absolutely, without a doubt, he was downright furious with her! She couldn't save Victoria, after all! She was a White Moon senshi, it was her job to safeguard the citizens of Destiny City, was it not? She had failed to protect her, and now she had the nerve to try and flee?
Not try. Succeed. She was gone, he told himself, finally slowing down in his pursuit and just in time to avoid running right off of a building. He had no idea where he was, and he didn't care. Somewhere in Destiny City, maybe, but location did not register in his mind. Nothing rational did. All he could think about was that half of the ones responsible for Victoria's death were now no where in sight... and who knew when he would see either of them again!
"Dammit!" Sarras shouted, trying to accept the fact that he had allowed her to get away, and the rage he felt building up within him was growing, bigger and bigger, though not all at once. Normally he had kept a tight control on it, but all of that was gone and nothing could stop him from letting out a cry of pure, untainted frustration. Had he heard himself, he would have been ashamed to have allowed himself to fall so low, but the scream had to come out. How else could he release this burning rage inside of him? "DAMMIT!"
He probably frightened children, but what did he care? In his mad run to catch the senshi partially responsible for Victoria's fall that fateful night, he had torn the soles of his flimsy shoes and there were ribbons missing from the sash at his waist, but he hardly noticed. He was surprised to find himself on his knees, the asphalt of the building's flooring cutting into his knees, no thanks to the silken tights he wore, but he didn't care. Brushing a fingernail against it would have torn the fabric at this rate, but he didn't care. For once, he didn't care about his appearance, and despite the cry he let out, it wasn't enough. It just wasn't enough to quell that rage within him.
She got away. He let her get away!
"Dammit!" He growled to himself, and when words weren't enough, he found himself punching the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. His knuckles were starting to hurt, but he didn't care. If anyone saw him, screaming and punching the rooftop, they might have thought him mad, but he didn't care. His anger could not easily have been appeased with punching a floor, but he was just too far gone in his rage to care. "What's the point? Why would I be given this power... if I can't ********' use it?! DAMMIT!"
He punched again and again, and no answer came to him. Who was he even addressing, he asked himself for a brief moment, pausing in his motions for a second before slamming both hands down at once. There may have been people below him and they were probably scared out of their wits, but Sarras didn't care. No one was going to give him an answer, and punching down a building certainly wasn't going to help in the least. Maybe it was that moment of clarity that caused him to stop pounding the roof or maybe when he noticed the blood he was leaving behind that finally made him stop, but the moment he did, his anger threatened to fade away into sorrow, and he struggled to fight that transition. He'd rather be angry... he'd rather be consumed with rage than sorrow, he told himself. If he had to be consumed with emotions he could not control, then let it be fueled by rage!
"Where did I go wrong?" He asked aloud, neither to himself or to anyone he knew. There was no one around him. No one but himself. He was alone, just like he wanted. He was always alone in this, wasn't he? He was awakened alone, having been chased down by a youma and cornered. For a brief moment, there was a voice, a familiar but distant voice that called to him and guided him towards a cup, but when the light had cleared, there was no one there. Only himself, and the youma. Who was the voice? Where did it come from, and where did it go? At the time, Sarras didn't know, nor did he care. The voice asked him a simple question, and he remembered that detail with the same vividness as a war veteran suffering through flashbacks.
What do you desire?
He thought he understood the question and he had an answer prepared. He had two of them prepared, and the second one seemed to have appeased the voice, as he granted him this gift. At the time, he must have assumed that the mysterious voice had deemed him worthy of receiving such a gift, but had that changed? If that voice came back, would he have approved of Sarras as he were now? Now, as he was barely holding himself up on a rooftop, trembling with rage and sorrow he could no longer contain, would he have regretted his decision to grant him this power? At the moment, Sarras found himself regretting his decision to grab the clay cup when it came into view. What good had it done him, besides spare him from becoming a youma's victim that night? Had he squandered his powers? Was he on the right track? No one told him otherwise, but... it felt like he had done something wrong, and someone forgot to tell him what.
He had been a page for such a short amount of time compared to others, but he could not deny that much had happened since then. In his brief tenure as a page, he had witnessed many things, horrible things, things he had tried to block out for so long but ultimately unable to deny it's existence. With no youma to fight, with no senshi to chase down, his mind was an open door to rampant thoughts and memories, and he did NOT like that feeling of vulnerability.
He was told he was lucky to have been awakened at the time he did, as he was pulled to Olympus on Mars, with the rest of his knights. He was given much information, more information than most of his fellow knights had access too prior to the event, and he was given a purpose. To restore balance in the universe. It would not have been an easy task, he knew going in, even before knowing everything that was going on prior to that night. Nothing worth fighting for would be easy. It did not take him long to witness this first hand, as the night the power went out throughout the city was a clear sign that the task ahead of them would have been long, grueling, and perhaps even without a victor. He had went into the situation thinking he had a good handle on it, and yet the only thing he had grasped firmly with his own two hands was the neck he snapped. Lieutenant Antimonite's neck was small, fragile, he had told himself, or perhaps his own grip, which was already strong to begin with, had only been amplified by the power gifted to him from the mysterious voice. That's what he told himself. It was an accident... the young lieutenant's death was just an accident, and merely a casualty of war.
That phrase... it pained him to hear that phrase, because it was the same thing that another knight had told him not too long ago. He never got the knight's name but he knew of his affiliation to the planet Saturn, and he could never forgive the cold words of wisdom he dropped on him when he had returned from hell, with his comrades' blood still dripping from his uniform.
'This is war.'
Sarras wanted him here before him, just so that he could have verbally thrashed the knight for his callousness of that statement. Antimonite's death, while tragic in the sense that they had lost a possible ally and one so very, very young, was a casualty of war, he told himself, as her death had occurred during a conflict. The deaths of the knights on Mistral... no, there was no battle, nor conflict against the Negaverse. It was not even a trap that had killed them, but what killed them was Mistral's little death marionette. A knight's defense system had slaughtered his teammates, one by one, and the one that was not gutted before his very eyes was crushed to death, by his and Falias' own hands.
That wasn't war, he told himself, blood coating his knuckles and seeping out unhindered as he tightened his fists into shaky fists. Their deaths were not because of the Negaverse, nor the Dark Mirror Court, nor was it a ploy from their chaos-inflicted enemy. It was one of their own.
Ankh, murdered. Burj Khalifa, murdered. Hogwarts, murdered. Hollow Bastion, murdered. Pigfarts, murdered. Isengard, murdered. Menae... Menae, murdered, while giving Falias and himself a chance to escape. Mistral had called off the attack, but by then, it was too late. They had all died, and their deaths were not on the hands of a Negaverse officer... but on a fellow knight's.
Sarras was still angry, still wounded from such an ordeal. He had promised Hvergelmir that he would overcome the experience, that he would not allow it to sour his spirit and turn him bitter against his own kind. And yet... he knew it was not a promise he could keep. In his mind, his decision to grab the clay cup and take up the fight, his decision to investigate the power outage... his decision to assist his fellow knights in recovering a few trinkets had all be decisions he had come to regret, and Sarras could not deny that, at this very moment, he felt... extremely bitter towards not just his fellow knights, but everything in general.
All of this had been a distraction, a pointless, needless distraction from what had pulled him into this war to begin with. And she got away. He allowed her to get away! His chance to avenge the insult on his family had slipped through his fingers, and he was the one to blame. Because he had allowed himself to get distracted! Because he had chosen to help Mistral, his will was already wounded and he had allowed for his sorrow to get the better of him. Because he was not strong enough, she had gotten away... and who knew when he would get the chance?!
Then came the other dilemma... to track down the Negaverse officer that had committed the act. She said he was a general now, and if he could not even keep up a Super senshi, what chance did he have against a general? He was too weak, as he was now... he felt a warmth deep within his chest, but he hardly noticed it now. No, the despair that he felt at the truth that even if he could track down the general responsible for Victoria's death and his brother's broken mental state he would not stand a chance against him was all too consuming. Even when that warmth began to strengthen and spread throughout his form, he could only focus on the great sense of resentment he felt and how it was directed towards his fellow knights. If only he had refused to assist in their stupid plans... if only he had focused on avenging Victoria, on making his brother well again.
He could not ignore it anymore. His chest felt like it was on fire and the source was buried deep within his chest, where his starseed laid hidden. It was not a burning sensation, but he could not help but gasp as he felt the rush of energy surged through his body, mere seconds before he was engulfed in a faint, multicolored light. The voice from before echoed within his mind and his clay cup dropped from its holster at his waist, transforming before his very eyes.
'You must focus. See what you desire, and do not stray. Grasp the cup, Sarras, Squire of the Cosmos. Take it, and remember the core of your focus.'
He grasped the cup, and the transformation was complete. The clay cup had metamorphosed before his very eyes, becoming larger, more extravagant, all to match his new clothing. There was no mirror, but he didn't need one to know that he had become a Squire.
He didn't bother looking at himself, as he found himself repeating what the voice had told him.
"I must focus... remember the core of my focus. But..." He looked down at the cup, before muttering softly. "What is my focus?"
The voice never answered, but he wasn't surprised in the least. Of course he wouldn't have replied! It was just like that damned disembodied voice to offer him a taste of power and the wisdom that came with it, then abandon him like that. He was starting to think that the voice that he heard was merely leading him on, but who was he to demand otherwise from him? Perhaps that all he could do for him... offer him the boost of strength he needed and then leave him to his own devices. Or maybe he was just a d**k and Sarras was nothing more than his puppet. However, if the pay off of this was more power and strength to continue his fight in his war, then Sarras wasn't going to complain. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, he was told many times before, and though he had undergone a wardrobe change, there was still blood coated on his knuckles, to remind him that his situation had not changed as much as he would have liked, even with the renewed power running through his veins.
The voice, a*****e or well-meaning mentor aside, wanted him to focus, and that was something that Sarras felt he could do, so long as there was a goal. Something in his desires had triggered this spontaneous surge of power, and the only thing that came to Sarras mind as to what the trigger might have been was that his focus should have been on revenge. That was what triggered the event both times, did it not? He looked down at the elegant cup, a worthless weapon but holding within it a power that he had not had before, as he could feel it resonating deep within with his touch. Though elegant in appearance, it was still just a clay cup, not at all meant for combative purposes, but the magic within it could have easily made up for that, he told himself. This cup and its upgraded form could have provided him with the means of extracting his revenge, he told himself, otherwise, why would he had been given it? He wasn't sure how to accomplish this feat, but perhaps that was what he needed to focus his attention on. He had to discover what magic laid deep within this fancy clay cup he held, he told himself, though he wasn't sure even where to begin with that. Could he think to find the answer here? Perhaps the other knights would know...
A cold thought washed over him, and he shook his head. No, he couldn't go to the other knights, not now. The memory of Mistral, the friends he lost and the enemies he made, were still too fresh in his mind, and the idea of going to any of them, even Hvergelmir at this moment... did not settle well with him. And if the Code had not summoned him to Olympus, then he could not rely on anyone else... but himself.
"Perhaps the answer lies beyond here... at my wonder?"
He had been to Mars twice. Same as Mercury, once at Mistral, and the other at Babylon.
Was Sarras in the Cosmos... really that different?
"I'll find my own answers... I don't need anyone else to slow me down." He told himself, closing his eyes and concentrating, thinking only of his home, not the one filled with stuffed animals and mountains of paperwork, but his home among the stars. In the Cosmos. He needed answers, and he was going to get them... all on his own. And if the answers did not lie in his wonder among the Cosmos, then he’d have to make his own answers.((Word Count: 3,126))
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Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2014 7:51 am
[ X] - [REG] Knights Have PTSD Too (Sarras and Mimisbrunnr)
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Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2014 9:54 am
[ X] - [BAT] A Much Needed Outlet (Penthesilea & Sarras)
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Posted: Fri Aug 01, 2014 1:56 pm
[ X] - [REG] Special Delivery (Cherry, Daran and Richard)
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