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 Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 10:27 pm
"I can't believe it's still here..."
Under the cover of night, a young man clad in a black trench coat slowly walked towards the derelict remains that once used to be a pristine fortress. He stepped with purpose, eyes at half-mast and glossed over with memories. He could hear laughter, talking, the song of blades cutting through the air and the crescendo they reached when they clashed.
He approached a tree in the field, one that had been there long before Noble Symphonia had built their fortress and would stand long after the fortress was gone. His fingers gently traced slash marks in the tree's bark. Idly wondering if it had been his sword that had left these scars, the young man looked up to the stars through the tree's canopy.
"Where did we all go..."
Of course, he knew the answer to that question. The world of Gaia had changed. Peace had been won, the monsters had been pushed back to hide in the shadow of a dead man, and the time for warriors had passed. Some members had left in search of further glory, and others had moved on to warmer places, eager to leave the drafty fortress and the memories of war behind them.
He continued walking, feeling his heart start to race as he approached the gate that kept the fortress closed. He raised his hand to the old gate, finger feeling the individual lines of the giant wooden door. He could get in if he wanted to, but what was left? What would be the point to go inside and cough away dust while listening for the echoes of the past? But then again, he knew the answer already. He couldn't stay away - he had been a sellsword for so long and this was his first home. He had built this, after years of being hired to just maim and kill and destroy.
The young man pressed his back to the wall and slowly slid down to a sitting position, placing the underside of his forearms on his knees. Yeah, he'd clean. Tomorrow he'd clean.
Tonight, he'd listen to the echoes of what used to be.
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Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 11:10 pm
 [Of all the sad words of tongue and pen...]♠ "They moved on. The world is different and so are we." John probably didn't notice the man until he heard the reply. He crossed his arms and looked up at the stars as well. "in its original language, nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone." He paused. "So... it's ok to miss the old days."  ♠ [...the saddest are these: "It might have been."]
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SwordsmanChris Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 11:15 pm
John's hand twitched towards his sword's handle, but upon hearing the familiar voice, he relaxed and looked up at the sky.
"The pain from an old wound..."
His fingertip traced from the top of his right eyebrow, down and across his face, to the bottom of his left eye, remembering a certain scar he used to have. Yeah, he had plenty of those old wounds.
"What brings you here?" he asked, eyes still shut. "I figured you kept your birthday present at your house."
With his eyes shut, John caught the hint of... ash? Had Chris picked up smoking? Sighing a bit, he held his hand in front of his nose and mouth, not wanting to inhale too much of the smoke. He had never been one for smoking, and tolerated it out of exactly one person in the whole world. That person was not Chris. He pulled himself back up and tried to put a bit of space between him and his old friend.
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Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 11:25 pm
[Of all the sad words of tongue and pen...]♠ "I've been away a long time," He replied to John. "So I just went back to visit all the old haunts that are still around. I didn't plan to stay very long. Just long enough." He never stopped looking up at the sky. "What about you?" ♠ [...the saddest are these: "It might have been."]
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SwordsmanChris Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 11:35 pm
"I need a home."
Well, he blurted that one out rather quickly.
"It's a little hard to explain. I got nostalgic and came back and, I don't know, I thought about seeing if I could clean the place up a little bit. No one's around, so this could be a good base of operations for me. I keep saying I'm a sellsword, but I haven't done a lot of mercenary work, especially with the Animated on the way down. There are still thugs and such roaming about, and they need to be kept in check, right?"
"I don't know, it just felt like a good time to come back."
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Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 11:46 pm
[Of all the sad words of tongue and pen...]♠ "There will always be fights," he said to John. "Just different ones. But I have no doubt you could still fight them if you wanted to. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you're a better man now than you were then." He broke his unblinking stare at the sky to look back at the old fort. "Are you going to stay here?" ♠ [...the saddest are these: "It might have been."]
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SwordsmanChris Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 12:00 am
Always with the flattery.
John turned towards the old fort. The fort he had built.
"Yeah, I think I will. I don't know how long, but I will stay. There isn't a lot left, but I am interested in seeing what I can dig up."
John set a hand on the handle of the gate, feeling for the key in his pocket. "Do you think you'll stay? I bet your room's there. Just dusty."
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 12:11 am
[Of all the sad words of tongue and pen...]♠ He didn't reply right away. "I don't know," he said at last. It was hard for him to admit that. "One thing that I've realized by looking at relics from the past is that I can never really go back. I don't know what's going to happen here, to this place, or even this world." He looked down and tapped the ground with his foot, as though it were going to give way beneath him. "And I definitely don't know what my role is supposed to be." He turned to make eye contact with his friend for the first time since they started talking. "For now I am just going to watch, wait, and hope that when the time comes to make decisions, I will make the right ones." ♠ [...the saddest are these: "It might have been."]
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SwordsmanChris Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 12:22 am
"Good stance to have. Maybe I should follow suit."
Finding the small silver key, John withdrew it from his pockets and kept his eyes locked on Chris's. He took in the man's attire for the first time since starting their conversation. It was classy, just like usual, but he seemed to be showing off his age.
Or his vampire heritage.
Sliding the key into the lock, John twisted the key until he heard a click. Grabbing hold of a handle, John slowly pulled the gate open, just enough for him to comfortably slip by the two big doors.
"You coming in?" he asked.
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 12:34 am
[Of all the sad words of tongue and pen...]♠ He looked at the doors. They were right in front of him, and yet they were also far away. "Another time," he said. He nodded to John. "I think you should have the place to yourself for tonight," he said. "Reflect. Reminisce. Go through whatever affairs you have to take care of in private. Then I'll come by later." He wanted to give his friend time - time on his own to think about times long past. That was the best he could do for now, he thought to himself. ♠ [...the saddest are these: "It might have been."]
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SwordsmanChris Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 12:59 am
John nodded, understanding what it seemed like Chris wanted him to do. "Alright, I'll have a look around. Door's open when you decide you want to come." Stepping into the fort, the first place he was met with was the conference hall. He hadn't remembered many meetings here - it was mostly, as he recalled, a place where Ally would sometimes go to eat in peace, away from the noisy antics of the other clan members. He ran a finger along the soft red cloth, faded and covered in a fine coat of dust. The air was heavy - no one had really opened this room since everyone had left. He felt glad, for a moment, that he had left the door open. It would give the room a decent chance to ventilate. Raising his knee, he hopped up onto the small stage and looked around. Didn't they used to have a podium? Oh well, it was fine the way it was. "Uhm... hi, everyone." John said quietly, closing his eyes and imagining the clan gathered in front of him. "I know it's been a long time. How have all of you been? I just wanted to take a moment and say... and say..." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry we all drifted away. I'm sorry we're not a clan anymore. We had something. Something special. I should've cultivated that. I should've found a way to keep us together. I just want you all to know that it was a joy taking to the field with each and every one of you." He opened his eyes, but instead of a raucous cheer and the smiles of his clan, he was greeted by dark, empty, heavy space. John took a moment, sighed and stepped off stage - onto the next area.
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Posted: Fri Sep 27, 2013 12:55 am
The next area, up a flight of spiral stairs in a small tower, was John's room. Hanging on the wooden door was a hastily put together sign with the word "Captain's Pad" scrawled on it in what looked like charcoal. "Geez. So many years and my handwriting still isn't any better than that..." the swordsman muttered as he held onto the handle of the door and slowly pushed it open. John's room was small, cozy, and efficient. A desk, a bookshelf, and a bed that stalwartly guarded a small chest that... maybe still had something in it? Kneeling down, John pulled out the chest and opened it. There was... What looked to be an unorganized mess. A shirt that maybe seemed more complex when he was younger. Sunglasses that had gone out of style years ago, and what seemed to be an endless supply of blood-red brooches. John set this all back in the chest and shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. Wasn't all of this stuff supposed to be valuable now? Sliding the chest back under his bed, John turned to the desk and saw a charcoal black journal. Ah. Opening the book, he found a letter on the inside cover. There was a seal, a wing that matched the wing on his headband. Setting the letter on the table, John put his fingertips to the seal and was greeted with the image of a goddess. She wasn't one of the Noble Four, the creators of this world, but she held power. She could seal a person's soul and force them into a life as an empty husk - a fate even worse than being devoured by the Animated. It worked both ways, though - she could seal a person's soul and release it. "Hello." The goddess's image spoke in a tone much friendly than one would expect of a deity. "I have spent many nights investigating the state of your soul and how it came to such a pitiable fate. Once so turbulent and tumultuous, your soul now has found peace. I find you worthy of resolution - worthy of being whole again." The goddess smiled and lifted her hand, fingertips grazing where his heart would be . The image smiled and said "thank you" before dissolving away. John slid the letter off the rest of his journal and hopped onto his bed, idly flipping through its pages. It had been so long. What had mattered to him back then? Rolling to his side, he held his hand towards a still-standing candle and lit it with a very narrow fire spell. The flame flickered gently as John started from the beginning. The very beginning. Further back than he had thought possible. He started his journal with an autobiography. Oh, the ego.
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Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:31 pm
"Oh, whoops. Lost track of time."
John rubbed his eyes and set down the book. He was partway through some scribbled down math equation that he was fairly sure was faulty when he snapped out of reading his old journal. Some of things he had said in there were cringe-worthy, but other bits... He could appreciate the passion of those other bits.
He didn't appreciate how poor his handwriting was, though.
John was about to toss the journal onto his bed when he stopped, holding the book between his thumb and the side of his index finger's joint. Maybe... maybe he should destroy this. Aside from being really awful writing, his history was a bit of a weapon. Something that could be hung over his head. Something that could be used to hurt him. Hurt others, even.
Using the same spell he had to light that candle, a small flame burnt in his palm. He could destroy it. He should destroy it, right? He could not bring himself to ignite though - parts of it, as bad as they may have been, were still precious to him. Just like this fort. He wasn't going to burn this fort to the ground - he wasn't going to burn this journal, either.
Maybe, he thought as a twinge of curiosity found him, Ally had left her door open...
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