「 spent a lifetime planning out your destruction 」
characters: Isen Meridan erythrosi and Cassian Lucerne adeios
location: City streets near the airship.
time: Late evening?
rating: As high as Cassian wants it to be.
open/closed: Closed, must be eighteen or older to view maybe.
summary: Commander Lucerne vs. General Meridan.
Another long day it had been. As long as the rest of them, with the nights blending so quickly into the mornings that one would wonder if they'd absently stepped into a time warp.
The moon was rising in the sky. That should've been enough of a sign, but their numbers never seemed to decrease, no matter how many he'd shot down. No matter how many fell, an equal number took their place. By no means doubling, just the same, hour after hour. It was no wonder an old man such as himself was near weary; only near, and not entirely. Isen knew better than to waste his strength by calling out the shadows. He wouldn't need them yet. They were only soldiers, and though their gunfire scraped him and their blades sliced him, only soldiers they were.
Enough forces were on the ship to work together in taking it down, and there were fewer on the streets. He'd lost count of how many hours it'd been since he'd left the ship to assist those on the ground. Enemy soldier after enemy soldier, bullet after bullet, the clash of metal against one sword after another. He would not grow weary, he would not let exhaustion overcome. But this, this war in itself had made him so tired. For all his life it'd endured, remembering the days when he'd be the last child to be ushered inside when the soldiers came tearing down the streets and cursing the Avatican name.
Just as the street he was on began to empty, just as fighters for Solace were driving the enemies from his city and he could finally take a moment to simply breathe, the tight cloth around his neck began to itch. The wound beneath it stung, gloved fingertips reaching up to brush against the material. And then there was the scent, the last scent he ever remembered before that day when he reached for her hand and she did not take it.
Isen couldn't help that growl, covering his mouth with a glove as he gripped the hilt of his blade tight with the other. Out of everyone--
"Anytime now," the General muttered mostly to himself, though fairly certain his voice would be heard thoughout the sounds of distant chaos and his inner demons snarling and snapping their jaws. "Rude to keep a man waiting and all that."
location: City streets near the airship.
time: Late evening?
rating: As high as Cassian wants it to be.
open/closed: Closed, must be eighteen or older to view maybe.
summary: Commander Lucerne vs. General Meridan.
Another long day it had been. As long as the rest of them, with the nights blending so quickly into the mornings that one would wonder if they'd absently stepped into a time warp.
The moon was rising in the sky. That should've been enough of a sign, but their numbers never seemed to decrease, no matter how many he'd shot down. No matter how many fell, an equal number took their place. By no means doubling, just the same, hour after hour. It was no wonder an old man such as himself was near weary; only near, and not entirely. Isen knew better than to waste his strength by calling out the shadows. He wouldn't need them yet. They were only soldiers, and though their gunfire scraped him and their blades sliced him, only soldiers they were.
Enough forces were on the ship to work together in taking it down, and there were fewer on the streets. He'd lost count of how many hours it'd been since he'd left the ship to assist those on the ground. Enemy soldier after enemy soldier, bullet after bullet, the clash of metal against one sword after another. He would not grow weary, he would not let exhaustion overcome. But this, this war in itself had made him so tired. For all his life it'd endured, remembering the days when he'd be the last child to be ushered inside when the soldiers came tearing down the streets and cursing the Avatican name.
Just as the street he was on began to empty, just as fighters for Solace were driving the enemies from his city and he could finally take a moment to simply breathe, the tight cloth around his neck began to itch. The wound beneath it stung, gloved fingertips reaching up to brush against the material. And then there was the scent, the last scent he ever remembered before that day when he reached for her hand and she did not take it.
Isen couldn't help that growl, covering his mouth with a glove as he gripped the hilt of his blade tight with the other. Out of everyone--
"Anytime now," the General muttered mostly to himself, though fairly certain his voice would be heard thoughout the sounds of distant chaos and his inner demons snarling and snapping their jaws. "Rude to keep a man waiting and all that."