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[5E] The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter One
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<blockquote data-quote="daindarkspring" data-source="post: 7343864" data-attributes="member: 6939181"><p><em>The woman seemed to emerge from the gloomy mere as if the water receded from her, exposing at first a tangle of thick black hair that framed a face of pale skin, like polished ivory. A pair of eyes, deep and smoldering, opened to consume him. Lips, full but colorless, parted slightly and made his heart explode in his chest. The smell of damp earth, of rich and luscious vegetation, and of woman, washed over him. It was Essithea, the One Who Knew Him. Before the rest of her body could be revealed, she whispered to him, in a voice that opened his soul without permission and invaded his very being. “Will you bleed for me?”</em></p><p></p><p>Dain awoke with a vicious start, his fingers clutching bits of earth and twigs. He gasped once, then again, as the memory of the vision faded enough for him to regain his sense of awareness. It was cold, and his heavy blanket lay discarded beside him. A small ring of stones surrounded a fire long gone out. The sun was just rising over the jagged peaks as he pulled his blanket around his shoulders and over his head and stood up to get his limbs moving. His breath came out it bright clouds of mist as he walked over to a nearby ledge to watch the sunrise illuminate the mountains around him. </p><p></p><p>Thinking back to the words of Essithea, he pulled his sword free of its scabbard, holding it up so that the fresh sun reflected from its black blade. He took a breath, studying the weapon again for any sign of recognition, for a spark of a memory. But there was nothing. He put it away, and then returned to his camp. He gathered up his pack, laden as it was with herbs and plants that the Apothecary would be pleased with, and started on the trip back to Kalair. It was the day of the naming of the year. It was to be a special year, of that he was certain. Something was going to happen. </p><p></p><p>As he scrambled across broken paths, leaped over roaring streams, and slid down stone embankments, he pondered Essithea’s question. The more he thought about it, the less of a question it became. </p><p></p><p>He would not be late for the ceremony!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="daindarkspring, post: 7343864, member: 6939181"] [I]The woman seemed to emerge from the gloomy mere as if the water receded from her, exposing at first a tangle of thick black hair that framed a face of pale skin, like polished ivory. A pair of eyes, deep and smoldering, opened to consume him. Lips, full but colorless, parted slightly and made his heart explode in his chest. The smell of damp earth, of rich and luscious vegetation, and of woman, washed over him. It was Essithea, the One Who Knew Him. Before the rest of her body could be revealed, she whispered to him, in a voice that opened his soul without permission and invaded his very being. “Will you bleed for me?”[/I] Dain awoke with a vicious start, his fingers clutching bits of earth and twigs. He gasped once, then again, as the memory of the vision faded enough for him to regain his sense of awareness. It was cold, and his heavy blanket lay discarded beside him. A small ring of stones surrounded a fire long gone out. The sun was just rising over the jagged peaks as he pulled his blanket around his shoulders and over his head and stood up to get his limbs moving. His breath came out it bright clouds of mist as he walked over to a nearby ledge to watch the sunrise illuminate the mountains around him. Thinking back to the words of Essithea, he pulled his sword free of its scabbard, holding it up so that the fresh sun reflected from its black blade. He took a breath, studying the weapon again for any sign of recognition, for a spark of a memory. But there was nothing. He put it away, and then returned to his camp. He gathered up his pack, laden as it was with herbs and plants that the Apothecary would be pleased with, and started on the trip back to Kalair. It was the day of the naming of the year. It was to be a special year, of that he was certain. Something was going to happen. As he scrambled across broken paths, leaped over roaring streams, and slid down stone embankments, he pondered Essithea’s question. The more he thought about it, the less of a question it became. He would not be late for the ceremony! [/QUOTE]
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