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Post by Vivi Orunitia on Aug 10, 2010 0:10:00 GMT
Vivi looked at the pathetic mass of limbs before him with a cold kind of pity. Even as his trance took hold and Vivi felt the magic flowing through the other mages broken body, he did not feel fear. He felt a great many things for the Waltz, anger, regret, pitty, but not fear.
It occured to him, that the rotting flesh and bone, held together by the raw mana within, was not so different to Vivi as he liked to believe.
"It could have been different." He found himself saying "We could have been so much, done so much. But he filled you with hate. And now we'll never know."
He pulled on more, feeding the flame in right hand, and adjusted his hat with his left. "It is time to end this, Three." He said, and it felt as though it was. There had been too much suffering, too much hate. The other mage's mind had been twisted and gnarled since birth, growing more decrepit as the years progressed.
Kuja had had the right formula, but not the right purpose. And now here they stood, his prototype and his perfection. A ghost and a broken toy. "Let us return to the mist we came from."
Vivi lunged then, the fire flying ahead of him and at Three, causing the air to shimmer as it went. His ghostly formed wavered as he sent the mana away from himself. He had not fought in ten years, he doubted now was the best time to learn his limits again. |
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Post by Black Waltz No. 3 on Aug 10, 2010 1:23:29 GMT
Fire ran down his throat, burning like holy fire, clensing his innards of sin. His body rocked and convulsed, wailing at the sheer intensity of the power held through him. He was like a burning star, the last flickers of light brilliant and white, pulsating with so much energy before it exploded in one final burst. He grasped his stomach, feeling his hand seep straight through, his body shaking with such great intensity.
His eyes narrowed and rolled, his mind turned to thoughts of heaven and hell and angels and devils, great mountains and rivers and warm rice and cages and iron and rust and her song, her song that triumphed everything. He thought about it, but he felt none of it. He felt only pangs of emptiness, a great fear washing all over him, a sense of helplessness. There was no dramatic imagery in death, no clockwork show of memories and love and happiness.
He knew this stench all too well, the scent of his clothes burning as his body was lain to ash amoung the dregged heap of a fallen airship. There was no great gaping maw full of blood and sand. There was only fear and black. He felt ashamed. He did not want to die.
Even though his fantasy had been torn from him, his ultimate goal, he feared the great black void, feared that sorrowed silence that would last for ad infinitum. His eyes burned open, his claws ripped at the snowed ground. Magic would not cast, he dared not to intice out Thunder while his body crumpled all around him.
He dragged himself up, legs barely carrying his weight, his back hunched and his arm dragging in the snow. He felt like One. Only more delapidated. But it didn't matter. He turned to his favorite saying, I exist only to kill. Yes, I exist, he existed, he was alive, he was alive...
"I hope you enjoyed that moment with her. I hope you enjoyed crushing her head beneath your hand, pulling out those paper eyes. I hope she stares at you accusingly for what little remains of your lifespan. The mist rejects us. The tree does not want us. My hate is love, your love is hate. You will feel as I do, and you will accept that one day."[/b]
He shuddered, fleeing as quickly as his poor body would allow him, eyes daring not to turn back. He existed. He existed. He existed.
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Post by Vivi Orunitia on Aug 10, 2010 1:38:11 GMT
Vivi's step faltered, his form flickering in newly made haze of steam, made from his fire hitting ice. His fire, his blood fire, soul fire. He had spent to much already, drawn on too much of his own essence. He had forgotten, he had failed. The beast still hid among the shadows out of his reach. To chase was futile, even injured the waltz would outrun him.
His vision became hazy and dark, lambent eyes drooping as he staggered forward in search of an unknown goal. He had no idea where the waltz would go, only that he believed in Garnets death. Good, that was good. It bought him time, but how little?
He stretched out his hands, reaching for something beyond sight. "Must warn them..." He breathed, his soul ached. He felt empty, as if he had hollowed himself out. "Dagger...Waltz... Must...warn..."
He fell, his outline flickering and beginning to fade. "Dagger" he croaked out, calling to a friend who sat on a throne miles away. Mother...he'll hurt you
And then the darkness swallowed him, and he drifted into shadow once more. In need if rest, and of time. Time waits for neither man nor mage, and it had already begun to tick by.
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Post by Zidane Tribal INACTIVE on Aug 21, 2010 17:08:20 GMT
Then he died, muahahahahaha!
Admin: Dude, wtf? Thats hardly appropraite behavour.
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Post by Zidane Tribal INACTIVE on Aug 21, 2010 17:08:45 GMT
of skin cancer in his left arm!
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Post by Vivi Orunitia on Aug 21, 2010 18:15:48 GMT
OOC: Please consider this a warning, behaviour of this type and being OOC in a RP thread will not be tolerated.
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