drabble
drabble on Outlands, two years post epilogue
He couldn’t see everything and leaving himself open to the voices of the wind and water at all times gave him head aches and made his vision waver. So when the attack came, they had no warning. The sun was setting and they’d just made camp, traveling the hard road back to Galetha from Acadia. Seifer didn’t much care for the country he’d been born to, and as nominal ‘Lord of the Outlands’ he had to negotiate a labyrinth of traps and baited hooks to keep the clans out from other people’s control.
He’d made a lot of enemies, both in the Outlands and in the Nations. Galetha was one of the few places both wanderers could feel safe.
The lord whose lands they were passing through had assured them safe voyage, and while Snow hadn’t trusted the slimy noble, Seifer had pressed on, wanting to get home as fast as possible before sailing for the Outland ports.
The band that came for them were skilled, well trained, and armed with swords and battle axes. If they’d had guns both Snow and Seifer would have died without a grave.
“Snow! Damn it you bloody bastards!”
The brunette was mostly ignored after being struck with a sword pommel to the head. The men focused on the obvious target, the blond with the gun. Seifer himself hadn’t had time to really learn how to wield the weapon so he fell back on the broadsword and the battle commenced. There were seven men against one and as tough as the blond was, he didn’t have any advantages.
Snow on the other hand, once he could refocus and stand, reached for the pair of throwing knives in his boots. One took an axman in the neck, the other lodged in a swordsman’s hip, giving Seifer time to cut him down. Now it was five against two, slightly better odds. Before the band could rally Snow let out a sharp whistle, two furious chocobo’s thundering into the clearing, reins snapped with ease.
The tiny yellow male stood protectively in front of the seer while the heavy black waded into the fray with wicked talons and a crushing beak. Between the bird and the berserker, the five didn’t stand a chance. One broke and ran, two fell fast and one surrendered. The last one was tough old veteran; he managed to get Seifer pinned to a tree with his sword against the big man’s throat. A long moment passed with emerald eyes blazing hate into cold hazel. The stand off only ended when Snow did something he’d never tried before.
He asked for help.
Please, please don’t let this end here. Please… he needs help… Hyne please!
The wind died, the air falling into dead stillness in the forest. The sounds of the world seemed to quiet as the sun sank and the scent of blood filled the clearing. The dead air filled with a crackling weight, like a storm, though the sky was perfectly clear, and a single bolt of heat lightening arched from the sky to strike the tree Seifer stood against. The soldier whose sword was drawing blood had a mere second to comprehend the situation before the discharge of energy grounded through his blade, his body and eventually the earth beneath his feet.
In the silence that followed the thunder the only sound Snow could hear was his own retching.
He couldn’t see everything and leaving himself open to the voices of the wind and water at all times gave him head aches and made his vision waver. So when the attack came, they had no warning. The sun was setting and they’d just made camp, traveling the hard road back to Galetha from Acadia. Seifer didn’t much care for the country he’d been born to, and as nominal ‘Lord of the Outlands’ he had to negotiate a labyrinth of traps and baited hooks to keep the clans out from other people’s control.
He’d made a lot of enemies, both in the Outlands and in the Nations. Galetha was one of the few places both wanderers could feel safe.
The lord whose lands they were passing through had assured them safe voyage, and while Snow hadn’t trusted the slimy noble, Seifer had pressed on, wanting to get home as fast as possible before sailing for the Outland ports.
The band that came for them were skilled, well trained, and armed with swords and battle axes. If they’d had guns both Snow and Seifer would have died without a grave.
“Snow! Damn it you bloody bastards!”
The brunette was mostly ignored after being struck with a sword pommel to the head. The men focused on the obvious target, the blond with the gun. Seifer himself hadn’t had time to really learn how to wield the weapon so he fell back on the broadsword and the battle commenced. There were seven men against one and as tough as the blond was, he didn’t have any advantages.
Snow on the other hand, once he could refocus and stand, reached for the pair of throwing knives in his boots. One took an axman in the neck, the other lodged in a swordsman’s hip, giving Seifer time to cut him down. Now it was five against two, slightly better odds. Before the band could rally Snow let out a sharp whistle, two furious chocobo’s thundering into the clearing, reins snapped with ease.
The tiny yellow male stood protectively in front of the seer while the heavy black waded into the fray with wicked talons and a crushing beak. Between the bird and the berserker, the five didn’t stand a chance. One broke and ran, two fell fast and one surrendered. The last one was tough old veteran; he managed to get Seifer pinned to a tree with his sword against the big man’s throat. A long moment passed with emerald eyes blazing hate into cold hazel. The stand off only ended when Snow did something he’d never tried before.
He asked for help.
Please, please don’t let this end here. Please… he needs help… Hyne please!
The wind died, the air falling into dead stillness in the forest. The sounds of the world seemed to quiet as the sun sank and the scent of blood filled the clearing. The dead air filled with a crackling weight, like a storm, though the sky was perfectly clear, and a single bolt of heat lightening arched from the sky to strike the tree Seifer stood against. The soldier whose sword was drawing blood had a mere second to comprehend the situation before the discharge of energy grounded through his blade, his body and eventually the earth beneath his feet.
In the silence that followed the thunder the only sound Snow could hear was his own retching.