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 Posted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 3:16 pm
Something Terribly Familiar..
The entire town was quiet tonight.. Atleast, that's how it felt to Avior, who stood close to one of the lakes, high up on a warehouse that rested on it's shore. Though it was not the best of ideas, he found himself growing bored on the rooftop, in his ears his headphones softly played a song that he could not get out of his head. On the flat surface of the roof, he stood on his toes, arms posed up as if delicately holding a dance partner, and began to waltz slowly.
It seemed almost ridiculously picturesque; the moon shown through the slightly cloudy sky in a waning crescent shape, filtering down and bathing the entire area in a pale, natural glow that seemed to make even the artificial white lights of the street seem magical. Below him, the surface of the lake stood still, reflecting a near perfect image of the scenery that surrounded the quiet, waltzing Senshi.
Despite the danger that he faced, and the fear that began to fill him more and more recently.. Despite the broken bones that had healed and the scars that remained on his body, there was an overwhelming sense of peace within the boy. As his feet danced across the concrete surface, his eyes slipped close, blocking out all the world around him. He had not a reason to be angry, nor one to be upset. It was certain that the events at the carnival had opened his eyes to the darkness that lied in the world, and ignited a stronger sense within him to protect those who could not protect themselves. Of course it did, he would have to be a fool to even fathom that it was simply a one time ordeal. And yet.. He could not be angry at anyone.
Did he truly care about any of the people who got hurt? Did he even understand the world of the youma and the Negaverse? No. All he knew was that he had to protect the ones who had saved him when he had suffered long ago. And for all he knew, or understood, the Negaverse were trying to find their own place as well, right? It didn't matter to him. He hardly knew any other senshi, or had even fought anyone besides youma, so who was he to judge anyone?
Another twist, another turn; his arms moved in a way that seemed to be graceful yet unorganized, as if even Avior himself could not predict where his body would move next. His dance shifted into actual fighting moves, using the slow movements of the song to work on a slower, more challenging form of how he moved. After having realizing that simply fighting wildly would not help, and that his powers were only helpful in certain conditions, he began to officially study a form of martial arts, something that would fit well with how his body moved already. In his mind, capoeira was much harder to do slowly, so as he worked along the with the rhythm of the son on repeat, he felt himself training much harder than if he were to simply move through the motions as he did once in an actual fight.
Hold another hand while the hand's still without a tool, Drown into eyes while they're still blind, Love while the night still hides the withering dawn.. As the song ended, Avior had remained on his hands, on the ledge of the warehouse, atleast three stories high, keeping his balance for a few moments more, before allowing himself to fall.
For though it were mere seconds he was falling, he felt completely free, an oddly familiar feeling, as if he had experienced it once before, hidden under rubble and dust.. Something he couldn't quite remember. It did not matter. Landing on his feat, perfectly fine, he smiled to no one, out to the lake before him. Perhaps tonight would end peacefully, and he could simply waltz home soon..
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Posted: Tue Jun 18, 2013 7:43 pm
The night was algid, unforgiving.
Even under the guise of moonlight, the landscape remained dark. Pieces of shadows darted about, indulging in business only they cared about. Everything operated independently of each other. Each one bore just a fleck of interest, enough to track for the breadth of a moment, before fading in disdain. Such was the whimsical nature of Destiny City's nightlife - sometimes it yielded little more than gutter trash keening through an unsympathetic ambience.
In his trek for even the most meager of experiences, he fled from rooftop to rooftop. Each yielded even less than the last, amounting to nothing more than passing cars or a pair of lovers returning home for the evening. However, while the tides of time carried him toward the latter half of the night, his search finally came to fruition. And that fruit dangled from a rooftop before finally plummeting toward the lake beneath.
Bischofite watched in mild amusement when the senshi took a tumble, a curious act to be certain, one neither destructive or enlightening in its nature. It appeared as senseless as the universe. Perhaps this child, this slip of a senshi, voluntarily descended toward entropy. Toward chaos.
Curious indeed.
His approach warranted no flair, no pomp and circumstance, no superfluous movements. He simply descended from his perch, across fire escapes and toward the ground in silence. He rounded the lake quietly; its waters stilled in that same heavy silence. Perhaps it was reverence for the ancient motives behind his approach. Perhaps it was nothing more than the quietude of the air and whimsical nature of the evening. Perhaps it was nothing at all.
"Senshi," he greeted, unwilling to hide the malice in his voice. The timeless undertones of their encounter breathed a certain heat into his words. "Was machst du hier? What are you doing out here all alone, playing in a place zat doesn't belong to you?" As he finished his questioning, he drew to a stop ten yards from the boy.
Chakrams materialized meticulously in his hands. "What sends you from buildings? What propels you to dance atop a rooftop?"He could speculate easily, but he preferred to hear the child's reasoning behind his senseless machinations. Rather, he smiled, grinned even. Bared his teeth in a peculiar display. "Was it some rain dance for company? Were you looking for me?"
Perhaps it was their fate to seek each other out - for one would not exist without the other. An ephemeral bond, yet fatal in its intent.
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Posted: Wed Jun 19, 2013 4:49 pm
As soon as the other drew near, Avior could feel his heart hesitate to beat, fear engulfing him as if he were a helpless ship on the rough and unforgiving seas. Despite meeting numerous youma, defeating them always with some help of sorts, he had never felt such a powerful presence, nor something that could talk to him question what he did or why he did it. He would not waiver, no, as he had learned that hesitation led to worse results in life more often than not. As frightened as he was, he would not let himself be entirely started by the presence.
"Why do I dance? Why am I here? And why do I choose to fall..?" The answer was simple. His answers always seemed to be as such, finding himself with nothing to hide, and a near true neutrality to all that came about him. Maybe such neutrality was a weakness unto itself; with a mind so unready to see a change, so unwilling to make a decision, hesitation was always certain, even if he could not see it.
"I dance because I am at peace, I am here because fate lead me here, and I fall because then, I am free. I can decide whether I live, or die in that slight, insignificant few seconds where nothing keeps me tied down." Avior's ears caught wind of the change in the air, the feeling of power that he could not yet fathom to be able to control weighed down heavy in his chest, as if someone placed a foot on it, and slowly applied more and more pressure.
"Company is always welcomed, even if it's of the terrible sort. And who are you to be someone to look for?" The other did not even bother to hide that he wanted to fight, that the seed within himself would be taken away as quickly as he had realized it even existed. If fate would have it be so, then who was Avior to tempt such a power beyond his own control? That was not to say that he refused to put up a fight, not in the slightest. He slipped into his basic fighting stance, not sure he well he could handle bladed weapons... At least, if he could trap the other, there would be a chance to escape. But that would require him getting closer, and would the risk even be worth it?
"I do not wish to fight, I wish to go home. But if it is deemed I must defend myself.. Who am I to refuse your request?"
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Posted: Sun Jun 23, 2013 12:30 am
Bischofite's expression softened. He leaned forward, as if straining for a better look at the boy, craning his neck to and fro, before finally straightening up. The boy before him was certainly of the unusual sort, someone he wouldn't have pegged for a senshi. No - they had a marked, lemming-syndrome morality about them, flaunted it like a medal of honor. They hung their lives on such trite notions without a second thought.
This one, however, did not.
"Making zat decision is no fun at all..." His voice trailed off, and he began his slow, languid approach. "But since you seem to haf' such a soft spot for dance, I can show you somesing so volatile and terpsichorean zat you marvel at it wis'out question." He crossed his arms over his chest, and his chakrams strayed precariously close to his face. His pitch black bangs whispered over the gleaming blades, manipulated by the passing fingers of the wind.
Time didn't move. The moon looked on with absolute stoicism. In Bischofite's eyes, the universe encouraged such a private, turbulent affair.
Idly he entertained the thought of teleporting behind the boy and proving just how fragile his mortality was. However, that posed little challenge, and little reward for the admittedly vast effort it took to materialize behind someone like that.
Finally he spread his arms wide, in a gesture of skewed warmth. "We'll start simple; I wouldn't want you to lose a sense of rhyzm, eh?" And with a world so stilled, so frozen in time, what better opportunity was there? All eyes were on them - from the stones to the trees to the ceaseless bricks adorning the buildings. What were they but performers, employed for the sole interest of reiterating the most ancient stories of the universe?
Finally he set upon the chance, and he bolted toward the boy. He gave no indication of his motives, expressed nothing more than a latent fact that he would reach the boy, no matter the cost.
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Posted: Sun Jun 23, 2013 11:20 am
"I never considered my decisions fun or interesting. I choose them based on what I feel is most honest to myself. I don't aim to protect everyone, if that were the case, then perhaps I would not be here, instead joining a team of some sort that patrols the areas all around Destiny City. I won't say that I don't care, but am I actively trying to save everyone, No. I won't go into a battle for something that others can take of themselves. Perhaps that is why I have yet to grow stronger. I do not try to. I have no need to."
His arms lowered themselves to his sides, and he slipped back into a natural position, as if he were just standing on the street corner. At one point, somewhere in his spiel that he had not even recognized himself, he began to lie. Somewhere inside of him, there was a longing for companionship. Not in the sense that he wanted someone to dote on him in such a chimerical way that would make even the most enamored young girl cringe. No, in the sense that he could find someone to confide in, someone who he could confess all these feelings of confusion about the conflict in this world to and not be sentenced to never-ending judgment for being weak.
Had he ever even met another Senshi, or even someone from the other side that he understood, he wondered to himself. Perhaps that is the reason he worked alone, and avoided fighting as much as he did, to perhaps lessen the possibility of going against someone he might care about. The entire world of this incessant fighting baffled him to no end. Who knew who was truly right or wrong? Who knew if fate would lead them to encounter one's own friends, their brothers or sisters, mothers or fathers.. Just the very feasibility of such a situation terrified him, to the point where he would rather flee from the fray, instead of risking himself any further. Though fate may eventually lead him down a path where he would have to take down those he loved, for the safety of himself or the other's he loved, he would do his best to avoid it for as long as possible.
His lip became the target of his rather perplexing inner strive, becoming chewed in a contemplative manner. As the other spoke of such enchanting movements, Avior slowly smiled, his eyes closing half way as if sizing up his soon to be partner, whether in battle or in dance. A feeling of familiarity came over his senses, the voice of the other caused him to feel as if they had known each other in a past life, and the impending encounter felt almost welcomed.
"Well then.. I shall attempt to not disappoint you." He made no move to avoid the charge towards him right away, still smiling. Would he be fast enough to avoid a blow? Perhaps not, and he knew for certain that his simple garb could not do well to deflect such a blade that the other wielded. The toughest decision would have to be made now; should he counter, not knowing the full intent of the other, or should he simply move out of the way, avoiding a potential unnecessary conflict. His initial thoughts on the other was that they simply wanted to fight, and if that were to be the case, then it would be so very easy to decide what to do.
There was no time to continue thinking about what was to happen, as the other was mere feet from him. Avior's decision was to roll from where he was standing. over his left shoulder to the side, slightly behind Bishofite's back, though more off to the side, having moved in a diagonal method, in the opposite direction of the Nega's charge. His roll lead right to his feat again, and he stood facing the other in a defensive position once again, though not at all attempting to initiate a fight.
"Is that your decision? Will we fight? Do we have to? Is there a particular reason as to why we cannot simply walk away?" The answer to that question was so painful obvious that he began to hate himself for it. Though he did not want to, there was something inside of him that perhaps was the source of encountering the other in the first place. If Bishofite truly wanted his seed, there was no negotiating with him. Avior waited, deciding that before he escaped, or atleast attempted to, he would reason with the other. If it didn't work.. Well, he would just have to see how well he could escape from the blades.
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 12:25 am
Sonant unnecessary.
Here they stood, sharp contrasts to the languid breadth of the night, yet there he jawed. He sought and reached and yearned for some answers to his questions, his inquiries into their situation. Why bother? Why ask? Did the crow question its role as a scavenger?
No.
This was a simple feat, something well within the timeless graces of the universe. They were participants - the privileged few. And he pursued his role with vigor - no longer did he err on standing around, toying with the opposition. There was no need. No point.
Sonant unnecessary, he reminded himself.
Wordlessly he sought the boy, in a practiced series of strikes. He would match every movement, close the gap, seek out but a taste of flesh. He would refrain from thought. Refrain from questions. Refrain from interrupting the sinusoidal flow of proper movement. And with each step, he might glean a little ground. He might sample a splash of pain. In each step lay an ancient practice, something borne to him from times long since past. Call it evolution. Call it intuition. Call it absolution.
And all those wasted words were irrelevant. This wasn't diplomacy. This was their own private war
and the odds were stacked against the boy.
The chaos within him seethed at the thought of grasping a starseed - no, a glimpse at the final iteration of someone's soul. The final acts of the mind, wavering in its own resolve, to fight and claw and beg for a sliver of time. Or perhaps, after the rancor is quelled through agony, Bischofite might discover a latent desire to die. Who knew? People were full of surprises, and he sought them all. He sought their finality
which spurred him toward ceaseless bloodshed. And that unyielding drive to know wouldn't cease, wouldn't rest, wouldn't falter until this spindly little boy lay broken and blooded at his feet. Awash in his own blood.
Such promising results fueled his actions passionately.
And that was when he recognized: the beauty of conflict lay in its instinctual nature.
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Posted: Wed Jul 03, 2013 12:13 am
Every twist, turn, and bend his body made was met with a motion that matched it so well. To stop their twisted tango would surely mean death for the boy. A single error, a single moment of hesitation would result in his already beaten and scared body to be sliced open once again, and perhaps this time he wouldn't return home.
How could he keep explaining all of the changes on his body to his parents? To the nurses and maids that dressed him up once he came back from battle? Did they think that he was out causing trouble? Did they think that he was slowly losing his mind, hanging out with the wrong crowd and fighting as a way to rebel against their overly proper and structured lifestyle? It wasn't as if he could tell them what he was doing, even if it was for their own good. Now was not the time to even think of such things, not when each move he took pushed him closer to his demise.
A slice here, a cut there.. There was no way Avior could avoid every swing the other took. Blood seeped through his shredded clothing, his once white uniform now seemed black in the dim streetlights that surrounded the docks. Each breath that he took burned his lungs, for this dance between them seemed never ending. Finally, he stopped, finding himself with no where else to go except for down into the deep, dark waters below. He would assume that the other would not follow him into the water, not with the amount of footing there was down there, little to none.
"Our dance will have to end here." A single step backwards was all that it took to send him plummeting into the lake below, though he threw more of his weight into it, attempting to avoid any other contact with the man's blades. If the light had been any brighter, streams of faded red could have been seen from his entry point, evidence to where he had gone, and to how he had fought. Knowing that fleeing would be his only option prevented from resurfacing, not for as long as he could hold his breath, and with renewed strength, Avior swam as far from the dock as he could. The man was no dog, he doubted his could be traced this far out, right?
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Posted: Thu Jul 04, 2013 11:08 pm
Bischofite pursued his prey ceaselessly, intermixing practiced blows with an unyielding offensive. Due to the circular nature of the blades, it didn't matter how he fought - any movement entailed a deadly attack. And with each passing second, each passing swing, each measure of success grew wider.
Relenting entailed failure.
In the midst of his focused assault, he neglected to realize they stood precariously close to the precipice overlooking the lake. Surely enough, the senshi intended to use that to his advantage, and practically leapt off the lip of their domain. Still, Bischofite reached out to grasp the boy, even his arm, even a ghost of his fingers, but he still sought even the most meager of grip on the senshi.
Should that boy die tonight, it was by his hand.
Not nature.
Not impact.
Not choice.
Despite his efforts, the boy slipped away from him easily and broke the previously still surface of the water. It rippled outward, betraying his movements beneath the surface. in a snarling rage, he threw one of his chakrams at the water and watched as it penetrated the surface easily. With some luck, he might yet exsanguinate the boy. Given the dullness of his weapons, however, that hope was a forlorn one.
Knowing his limitations yet neglecting to heed them, Bischofite pursued the boy into the lake. He waded into it up to his waist, until he realized the impossibility of his actions. He didn't know how to swim, and it was obvious this senshi had some training in the sport. Apart from circling the lake, he had little hope to catch up to the boy outside of teleporting. Despite his feverish chase for blood, he recognized teleportation as a waste of energy at this point.
Even as the boy emerged on the far side of the pool, he loitered and looked onward.
Their eyes met.
He scathed for this moment.
"Senshi," he called, his voice rife with stoicism. "Srough water, wreckage, or time, I will find you. You are marked by me now. Marked by deas'. Whezer you get away zis night or not is inconsequential. You will perish at my discretion. You belong to me now." He raised his arms outward, in the shape of a T. "Zat is ze fate of us. All of us. It's inescapable. You may not understand it now, but you will when you're crawling and clawing from deas'." From then on, he watched in silence.
Feverish silence.
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Posted: Fri Jul 05, 2013 1:03 am
There was no way that the boy could tell how far he swam, or how long he had stayed below the surface of the lake. He only knew that his lungs burned as if acid was poured into them, and that his arms screamed at his foolishness for choosing such a way to escape. Every brush of algae, every brief touch of fin he felt caused just a little bit more of his precious air to escape his body, quickly leading to when he needed to emerge from the depths. Even if he dared to open his eyes, they would only be met with such obscurity that he mostly likely freeze in place, terrified to keep going.
Avior's lungs finally gave out, bubbles escaping en masse from his lips, instead pulling in the murky liquid. It took but a moment to break the surface, gasping and struggling to stay afloat. The distance between himself and the enraged Negaverse agent was large enough that he allowed himself to rest, before making his way to the not so far shore. Fingers dug deep into the sand below them, gripping onto it tight, trying to prove to himself that he had survived; that, though shredded as he was, he could still walk away from this fight that he never even wanted.
Perhaps a sense of morbidity caused him to pause, still on his hands and knees, and turn to see if his pursuer had finally given up. The very sight of him, standing there in the water, staring straight towards him caused his racing heart to near stop dead. What crime had he committed to deserve such a fate, to have earned a death sentence to someone whom he had done absolutely nothing to offend, except for simply being.
Bischofite's words drilled into Avior's skull with such truth, leaving the boy speechless. He was absolutely right, he did not understand anything. He could not manage to comprehend the world that they lived in now, and he had not even the slightest bit of understanding as to why he had to fight. Though he wanted nothing more than to have someone explain it to him, to convince him that what he was doing was right, if he was even doing anything at all, the screaming voice in the back of his head demanded that he flee.
And flee he did. Finally breaking eyecontact with the boy in the water, Avior scrambled to his feet, making a mad dash for where he knew he could hide. The lake was somewhere he knew as well as his own bedroom, and even in the darkness, he ran into the surrounding woods, until his legs could not carry him anymore. The ground where he fell was soft, and he painlessly slipped out of his powered form, laying muddied, yet secure in his ditch.
All he craved was peace, to protect the ones who mattered, and yet he could not even manage to use his so called power effectively. Who was he fighting? Where could he go to relieve this stress? What burdened did he owe the world to risk his own life? What was he?
Tired. Confused. Alone. Absolutely and utterly alone. And finished with everything.
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