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It was his time to shine. The hero of the story. The person given by divine right the ability to continue throughout his existence. He had given his grace to all those around him. He had found his “ally”.
Another person with the same “smell” as him.
Someone who was given the same “love” as him.
Someone who was in the same “boat” as him.
Oh! Marvelous time. Oh! Great time. Oh! Wonderful time.
How could there be someone who was “loved” like him. Was this the workings of fate? Was his “Lady” giving him a sign? He had to act. He was not going to interfere in the instance of battle. He was there to gain information. He wasn’t there for anything else besides that. However, the “stench” was perdiant in the air, filling his nostrils with the “love” of what he wanted. What he longed for. What he desired.
How could these people not see the LOVE!?
Why weren’t they asking what is going on?
Why weren’t they asking if he's going to stay?
Why weren’t they asking if he's going away?
“Oh yes _____,” His words seemed to distort, as if there was nothing there to begin with, but ‘something’ was heard. “I will. I will discover and take and know and become. Promised. Fulfill my reason. I'm strong enough, I know I am. Crack reality in two, then consume what pours out. But I can't. I'm not, I'm just man and flame and space and weak and weak and weak compared to the All, imperfect to the totality and infinity. Cannot be corrected, all but a futile wish.” His tone began. The first of it’s kind. The elf girl and the boy who had accompanied her should have felt it. Something inhuman. Something that shouldn’t exist. Something that should not exist with “humanity”.
The fate of those who didn’t believe was dead. There was no exception. Even to those who believed, if there was a degree of disbelieve or questioning of his orders, there was only death. Unless they were like “him” and had the “voice”.
He had shown himself, but the shadow covering his face was still reflecting itself off the shine of the lampposts, and the crumbling remains of the rooftops.
Fear was a useful tactic. However, so is the lack thereof. For when an individual stops fearing a monster, the monster is able to act in any way to get close to its prey. The constant false reporting had given him his break to act as he wished to do within any portion of the world. The divine word allowed him to constantly dodge those who were not important. However, his divine word didn’t extend to the heretics in the area. They were nuisances. They needed to be “removed”. No one would interfere with his rise to the top.
They were heathens. Heretics. “Witches”. People who didn’t believe in the divine future his “Lady” desired. They must be punished. All who didn’t believe should be punished. But there was no instructions for him to continue.
Why
Why
Why
Why weren’t there instructions for what he must have done! Was the “Lady” testing him!? He needed to act. If he didn’t, he would lose his “ally in belief”. Someone who wanted what he wanted and that was the “Divine word of his lady”.
“Oh wonderful ally! Another who the lady have given her graces! I can see it upon you, friend; the mark! How could I ignore the suffering of my greatest friend I have never met? Is this divine intervention!? Is this fate!? Oh wonderful Lady, give me your Strength to overcome all adversities!” As if speaking to a long-lost friend, he began to step forward, closer and closer to the friend where Mithral and the others were engaging in combat.
But he was no normal man. Anyone could tell, even with his face obscured by both a cloak and the shadows of the night reflected upon the flames which purged the area, Yes, they must all burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Just like “they” had in the past. Just like he had “Seen”. A face of someone he knew, but couldn't put into fruition came to his mind. Perhaps they were someone he truly cared about, but once someone delves into the inhuman, humanity is lost forever. He didn’t care anymore. She was nothing. “She” was everything.
“WRRRRRY!” he croaked, shouting at the top of what he was able to produce, before shortly calming himself. However, even if it was a shout for him, it likely didn’t carry much weight. His voice had been destroyed long ago. His cries never heard. Except by “her”. He had the divine judgement of his purest “Lady” to deliver. There was no way for him to not abide from this.
Logic strove for order, but rational argumentation and transparent transfer of information were rooted in assumptions on the nature of being. Every mode of thought carries an ontology sequestered within it, but being is in a constant state of flux. If the origin is irreducibly plural, then not gaining access to the origin takes on another meaning. Its negativity is not that of the abyss. It need not operate in the dialectic mode of-
“My friend who I have never met, what would you ask of me!? Are we not lifelong friends who have just met!? I shall grace you with a single favor!” However, the madman was in the middle of a battlefield. How could someone be oblivious to such a thing? The life-and-death situation could not be emphasized enough.
But for whatever reason, his hardly audible voice seemed to reverb as if possessing some sort of greater power. As if something was not all that it seemed about a man in a cloak walking towards the individuals.
There was something “wrong” with this man.
There was something “wrong” with this man.
There was something “wrong” with this man.
His presence. He couldn’t be real, but there he was. He “existed”.
He had appeared out of nowhere, as if appearing from the ether itself. This man was unrealistic. Someone who shouldn’t exist.
“Ah, I am sorry. Perhaps you have having fun with the … whatever they are. I don’t want to cause you discomfort as my long-lost friend who I have just met.”
His body seemed to shamble in an odd way, not unlike the jarred movements of a person constrained by something, but he didn’t seemed to have the posture that would suggest any such bondage.
“Oh, they are heathens. Then, my long-lost friend I had only just met, I shall assist you!” Of course, there was no conversation. No thoughts shared between these two individuals. Perhaps individuals was not the correct word to use. They were freaks. Those who shouldn’t exist in this world. But even so, these two oddities seemed to flow endlessly into the waters of life as if it was their given rights.
The walk was a somber one. One that seemed almost lazy in its walk, bearing the rather jagged-like movements It was the sort of walk that someone would expect from a friend preparing to meet someone in the streets rather than a man going against a Ice magic using Elf.
Maria von Hohenzollern
Tani?
What had happened. Maria had not comprehended the power of the sword. She had not the ability to know what it felt to have someone else control one's mind, shrouding it in darkness. Her blessing had prevented any sort of callings to reach her mind.
Maria didn’t care if she was in pain. She didn’t care if even within her darkest time she had to fight.
She cared that Tani was probably in danger. She couldn’t stand to know the fact that her ally had lost herself to the madness. Perhaps something along the lines of “Why couldn’t it have been me” reverberated through her mind, but there was little time for such a thing.
They weren’t strangers like the previous user of the sword.
They weren’t enemies who fought each other under the pretenses of order and disorder.
They were allies. They were friends.
No, they ‘are’ friends.
Perhaps she would not have noticed the situation had the young girl not heard the collision of blade and flesh from Tani’s assassination of Malakaus. It was an unfortunate situation, but Maria needed too analyse what she could do to better make the situation passable. To salvage what was terrible to something passable. She didn’t want any of her friends to die. She didn’t want the pedestrians like Aleph to die either.
She had moved into the fight to protect Aleph. She couldn’t allow him to die. Placing her blade in a fashion that would allow her to support the strength of the blow with her forearm, blocking the attack upon the flat of her blade.
Maria took her blade and attempted her best to push back her opponent. Tani wasn’t a weak person by far, but perhaps if Maria had the will of force to allow for such a thing to occur, perhaps she could save “Tani”. The individual known as “Maria” didn’t care for the safety of herself. She wanted to see her friend smile once more rather than losing her to the madness.
“I am sorry Tani. I will save you.” Taking a stance that would seem to leave openings to her "ally", Maria stood there and waited. Waited for her friend to come to her like she always had.
