Post by dapplemist on Jan 30, 2011 21:55:31 GMT -6
Okay .. this is the first time in a long time I've actually written. So, it'd help if I could get constructive criticism please^^. It's a story in the process. I'll update it slowly, but for now, this is just part of chapter one. ^^ Enjoy?
[Untitled]
The girl’s dark golden eyes pierced the frozen night. Her tiny, soft lips began to move with slight movements. It was unnoticeable unless you had super senses. However, the large, silent crowd in front of her gave away the hint that she was speaking. It appeared to be some sort of meeting for an important thing.
A small whisper floated with the wind. Hate. A tiny word, with so much power, so much meaning behind it. So much anger. So many problems, caused by one word, one emotion. The word that started the age-old war.
The bloody war between vampirism and witchcraft. The war that has killed millions of races over the years. Why can’t we get along? Some people wonder that very question. That short, effortless question that is so difficult to answer. Many people don’t even know why there is a war between vampires and witches. The side-professions, such as shamanism, Elementia a Plosia, or “People of the Elements” in the native language, and others are forced to take part in the war. So much unnecessary bloodshed. So much death. So much hatred, depression, and jealousy.
Yet it runs amok in the world.
Some people decide it’s not worth all this fighting. We’ve lived in peace for centuries, some will argue. These are the ones who have formed a special bond, the bond that could overcome everything. A bond with the power to create a better world, or destroy it. These people are the Rebellia a Estronome. Rebels of Peace.
Strange, that rebellion and peace may go together.
However, nothing makes sense anymore. Especially since I joined them.
“I don’t want to go,” I whispered quietly. It was carried along a soft breeze, barely acknowledged by my mother. Her deep sea-green eyes searched my tiny, child-like face. Her lips were puckered in disappointment, and her aura glowed a soft purple.
Wait. Aura?
I see auras: manifests of a person’s psychokinetic energy in the physical world. Except, only those who see into the Other plane can see the auras. Unfortunately, I’m one of them. I’m also a load of other things, but if I was to ever speak of them, my life would end in a flash.
Instead, my dark brown eyes watched her face carefully. It was smooth and delicate, and at first glance, you’d think she was a marvelously sculpted statue. She had the faint traces of a high cheekbone, with small rosy lips. Her face seemed to glow and shimmer, whereas her eyes sparkled with youth. Her dark red hair fell in tiny tousles around her chin; most unlike my hair. I received the nice hair color from my mother, but then I got the ‘lifeless hair’ from my father.
My mother cleared her throat just loud enough to catch my attention. My eyes met hers and she began to speak.
“As you are aware of your duty to this household, you must go. You have no particular choice in the matter. I have no say in this, nor does your father. The government—corrupted as they are—ordered this. Now, if I had my choice, I wouldn’t make you go. It just isn’t right to send a fifteen-year-old girl into a military unit… none-the-less, a girl who knows about military about as much as a new-born knows how to speak! Ridiculous! Either way, I’ve packed your bag for you”—with this, she handed me a decent-sized leather pack—“and I’ve gotten out your great grandfather’s old weapon pouch.” She handed me a tiny leather pouch, one that would barely fit a dagger into it. However, I knew that looks were deceiving.
I growled under my breath, the threatening sound ripping through my throat and through the air. Fury bubbled inside me, like water boiling in a pot with a lid on it. The steam put strain and pressure on the lid, trying to escape the prison. I closed my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. As the cool air entered my body, I slowly unclenched my fists. When I opened my eyes again, my mother was gone. Silent. Like the wind, I always thought when I was little, but the wind was never silent. Silent, like an apparition in the night.
I grunted as I hoisted the pack over my shoulder, and began to inch across the familiar, creaking, wooden floors. With my bare feet, splinters were continually pushing their way into my heel and toes. It hurt, and it made me wince, but I refused to give up. When I finally reached the door, I bit my lip. A tiny trickle of blood streamed out of it. I slowly shoved the door open, and recoiled. The frozen air hit me like a wall of stone. No matter; I simply fought it for control. Thoughts flooded my mind; it distracted me and made me dizzy. Within a few seconds, they died down, and I realized something important.
I was outside of my home, and I would never come back.
[Untitled]
The girl’s dark golden eyes pierced the frozen night. Her tiny, soft lips began to move with slight movements. It was unnoticeable unless you had super senses. However, the large, silent crowd in front of her gave away the hint that she was speaking. It appeared to be some sort of meeting for an important thing.
A small whisper floated with the wind. Hate. A tiny word, with so much power, so much meaning behind it. So much anger. So many problems, caused by one word, one emotion. The word that started the age-old war.
The bloody war between vampirism and witchcraft. The war that has killed millions of races over the years. Why can’t we get along? Some people wonder that very question. That short, effortless question that is so difficult to answer. Many people don’t even know why there is a war between vampires and witches. The side-professions, such as shamanism, Elementia a Plosia, or “People of the Elements” in the native language, and others are forced to take part in the war. So much unnecessary bloodshed. So much death. So much hatred, depression, and jealousy.
Yet it runs amok in the world.
Some people decide it’s not worth all this fighting. We’ve lived in peace for centuries, some will argue. These are the ones who have formed a special bond, the bond that could overcome everything. A bond with the power to create a better world, or destroy it. These people are the Rebellia a Estronome. Rebels of Peace.
Strange, that rebellion and peace may go together.
However, nothing makes sense anymore. Especially since I joined them.
“I don’t want to go,” I whispered quietly. It was carried along a soft breeze, barely acknowledged by my mother. Her deep sea-green eyes searched my tiny, child-like face. Her lips were puckered in disappointment, and her aura glowed a soft purple.
Wait. Aura?
I see auras: manifests of a person’s psychokinetic energy in the physical world. Except, only those who see into the Other plane can see the auras. Unfortunately, I’m one of them. I’m also a load of other things, but if I was to ever speak of them, my life would end in a flash.
Instead, my dark brown eyes watched her face carefully. It was smooth and delicate, and at first glance, you’d think she was a marvelously sculpted statue. She had the faint traces of a high cheekbone, with small rosy lips. Her face seemed to glow and shimmer, whereas her eyes sparkled with youth. Her dark red hair fell in tiny tousles around her chin; most unlike my hair. I received the nice hair color from my mother, but then I got the ‘lifeless hair’ from my father.
My mother cleared her throat just loud enough to catch my attention. My eyes met hers and she began to speak.
“As you are aware of your duty to this household, you must go. You have no particular choice in the matter. I have no say in this, nor does your father. The government—corrupted as they are—ordered this. Now, if I had my choice, I wouldn’t make you go. It just isn’t right to send a fifteen-year-old girl into a military unit… none-the-less, a girl who knows about military about as much as a new-born knows how to speak! Ridiculous! Either way, I’ve packed your bag for you”—with this, she handed me a decent-sized leather pack—“and I’ve gotten out your great grandfather’s old weapon pouch.” She handed me a tiny leather pouch, one that would barely fit a dagger into it. However, I knew that looks were deceiving.
I growled under my breath, the threatening sound ripping through my throat and through the air. Fury bubbled inside me, like water boiling in a pot with a lid on it. The steam put strain and pressure on the lid, trying to escape the prison. I closed my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. As the cool air entered my body, I slowly unclenched my fists. When I opened my eyes again, my mother was gone. Silent. Like the wind, I always thought when I was little, but the wind was never silent. Silent, like an apparition in the night.
I grunted as I hoisted the pack over my shoulder, and began to inch across the familiar, creaking, wooden floors. With my bare feet, splinters were continually pushing their way into my heel and toes. It hurt, and it made me wince, but I refused to give up. When I finally reached the door, I bit my lip. A tiny trickle of blood streamed out of it. I slowly shoved the door open, and recoiled. The frozen air hit me like a wall of stone. No matter; I simply fought it for control. Thoughts flooded my mind; it distracted me and made me dizzy. Within a few seconds, they died down, and I realized something important.
I was outside of my home, and I would never come back.
