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The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Two
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<blockquote data-quote="daindarkspring" data-source="post: 7352597" data-attributes="member: 6939181"><p><strong>Dain - Fields</strong></p><p></p><p>Essithea had sent dreams in the days following the naming ceremony. Dark, warm dreams. Dreams of dark shadows and pale flesh, of deep earth and twisting roots, like slick limbs entwined and clenching. A downfall? Sometimes Dain felt like he was falling, down, into the earthy embrace of the goddess with the deep eyes. She whispered to him. Of secrets. She asked of him favors. Offerings. </p><p></p><p>A cut on his finger, blood drawn from his ancient blade, the red droplet running down in a meandering line along the edge, to drop slowly and steadily into a small hole in the ground. For her. </p><p></p><p>******</p><p></p><p>Dain had nodded in acceptance when he had finally received a note from the barkeep. He had waited, because he had no choice but to wait. As something gathered above the peaks, he had waited. His forays had been quicker, and he had encountered many who fled from the high places and the deep woods. </p><p></p><p>When the day came that he and Jeovanna traveled to the meeting place, his eyes looked ever to the mountains and his mouth was a firm line. Was something finally happening? Bring strength he could trust. His outcast companion had strength, and she had never given him cause not to trust her. Though they had surely not been tested yet. </p><p></p><p>Seeing the others, it all began to make some sense. The reason behind it. And when he saw the girl he had chased, when he heard the tale she wove with her father....it seemed obvious to him. They spoke of risk. Of allegiance to a cause. Of change. For Dain, it was the first culmination of something that had started during the days before the naming ceremony. A feeling of buildup, of preparation. </p><p></p><p>For this.</p><p></p><p>He signed his name without hesitation. Was it even his name? He, a man with no past. It was easy enough to give himself to a cause, even if it was doomed. </p><p></p><p>But he spoke sparingly as he read and signed, instead watching the others and gauging them in turn by their choice, and how they carried it out. </p><p></p><p>Pulling his sword free, he buried it with a look of piety into the parched earth before him. "By this sword, and by this hand, I will serve this cause to its end. Be it victory or defeat, exultation or death."</p><p></p><p><em>I dream of you.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="daindarkspring, post: 7352597, member: 6939181"] [b]Dain - Fields[/b] Essithea had sent dreams in the days following the naming ceremony. Dark, warm dreams. Dreams of dark shadows and pale flesh, of deep earth and twisting roots, like slick limbs entwined and clenching. A downfall? Sometimes Dain felt like he was falling, down, into the earthy embrace of the goddess with the deep eyes. She whispered to him. Of secrets. She asked of him favors. Offerings. A cut on his finger, blood drawn from his ancient blade, the red droplet running down in a meandering line along the edge, to drop slowly and steadily into a small hole in the ground. For her. ****** Dain had nodded in acceptance when he had finally received a note from the barkeep. He had waited, because he had no choice but to wait. As something gathered above the peaks, he had waited. His forays had been quicker, and he had encountered many who fled from the high places and the deep woods. When the day came that he and Jeovanna traveled to the meeting place, his eyes looked ever to the mountains and his mouth was a firm line. Was something finally happening? Bring strength he could trust. His outcast companion had strength, and she had never given him cause not to trust her. Though they had surely not been tested yet. Seeing the others, it all began to make some sense. The reason behind it. And when he saw the girl he had chased, when he heard the tale she wove with her father....it seemed obvious to him. They spoke of risk. Of allegiance to a cause. Of change. For Dain, it was the first culmination of something that had started during the days before the naming ceremony. A feeling of buildup, of preparation. For this. He signed his name without hesitation. Was it even his name? He, a man with no past. It was easy enough to give himself to a cause, even if it was doomed. But he spoke sparingly as he read and signed, instead watching the others and gauging them in turn by their choice, and how they carried it out. Pulling his sword free, he buried it with a look of piety into the parched earth before him. "By this sword, and by this hand, I will serve this cause to its end. Be it victory or defeat, exultation or death." [I]I dream of you.[/I] [/QUOTE]
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