Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
04-06-2012, 01:34 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by whoosh!.
When Nemaeus rose to his feet his ears were ringing. Something big had just occurred – the shaking of an entire planet was testament to that – but whether that was limited to just seismic disturbance was another mystery entirely. Right now, there was only silence and settling clouds of dust.
His gaze drifted to the contented crackling of the sword, which was still embedded in the mossy ground. It gleamed at him. The weapon was beautiful, and that unnerved him. Things made for the express purpose of killing shouldn't look like that. They should be functional, certainly, maybe even noble or robust if the user thought like that, but beauty – true beauty – looked out of place here.
No killer deserved it.
A few faces, faded by time and a lack of familiarity, flickered through Nemaeus' mind. It didn't matter. He recognised every one. He'd consider himself lucky if he could ever forget.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what he was supposed to be thinking or feeling right now. He'd made his peace before he donned the noose. It was supposed to make up for the things he'd done, put it all beyond his power to fix or atone for. It was all meant to be over.
Hoping for a sign, or perhaps just to silently appeal to the heavens, Nemaeus opened his eyes and looked up at the sky at the same time as, quite by accident, Tria was falling from it.
He had time to blink, start to shout and turn around to run before she hit him with full force. (And a rather satisfying WHUMP.) Nemaeus instantly crumpled, landing face down on the ground and winded. His relatively restrained curses were fortunately muffled by the ever-obliging moss. Tria rolled off of him a few moments later and climbed to her feet.
“Ah,” she said, catching sight of her impact site. “Sorry.” It seemed an appropriate thing to say.
Nemaeus raised his head and looked at her, astonished. He staggered to his feet for the second time in as many minutes and – staying completely silent – twisted to look back at the sky. Hoofstad loomed. It was not as close as it might have been, partly because they were standing some distance from the point of collision and partly because it had rebounded slightly. But it was still utterly and undeniably there.
“You came from that planet?” Nemaeus didn't even bother to point. Tria looked up anyway, in spite of herself.
“That's where I jumped from.”
“Hm.”
Nemaeus stared at it for a moment more, stroking his stubble.
Somewhere far away, something rumbled and echoed. But in the aftermath of an earthquake, such noises are surprisingly easy to ignore.
He turned back to Tria, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked down at his shoes.
“You're one of the contestants. Combatants. Whatever we are and whatever this is.”
“Yeah.” Tria shifted her feet.
“Are you...? Do you intend to...?”
“Kill you?”
Nemaeus glanced up, and their gazes met for a moment. For the duration of that moment, Tria's thoughts completely derailed. For a single, silver breath she felt... happy. Everything was wonderful. Everything was peaceful. Everything was... silver.
But then the moment passed, and another second or so later and she was wondering why she'd thought that. The world, dreary and monotone as always, looked back.
“Yeah,” Nemaeus replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze still averted. “I'm not – that's not my intention, anyway. To kill anyone. I don't really know what to think of this situation, really.”
Tria rubbed her shoulder, suddenly aware of the pain again. “Yeah, okay. I'm not going to try it either.”
Still quite far away, something roared and echoed. It might have drawn the attention of the two talkers a little better if not for the muffling effect of distance. It might just be another rumble or aftershock, after all.
Nemaeus visibly relaxed at her words. “Good. That's good.” He still didn't look at her, instead examining the surroundings as if casting around for a topic of conversation.
“What's that?” Tria pointed at the sword. Sparks and streaks of lightning danced around the blade now, far faster and louder than previously.
Nemaeus looked at her, surprised again, then towards the sword. He moved towards it, paused midstep and suddenly looked up at the sky behind Tria.
Something roared again, and this time it wasn't distant.
Nemaeus dived for the crackling blade, wrapping his fingers around the hilt as he slammed into the ground. Rolling aside it was pulled free, and the spot where it had once stood burst into flame. Tria leaped back from the heat, throwing up an arm instinctively. An instant later, Nemaeus had grabbed it. Tria stumbled as he started running.
“What-”
“Don't look back! Just run!”
“But what is it?” She yelled, panic rising. If she just knew what the hell she was running from, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
“It's a fucking dragon!”
Perhaps not.
When Nemaeus rose to his feet his ears were ringing. Something big had just occurred – the shaking of an entire planet was testament to that – but whether that was limited to just seismic disturbance was another mystery entirely. Right now, there was only silence and settling clouds of dust.
His gaze drifted to the contented crackling of the sword, which was still embedded in the mossy ground. It gleamed at him. The weapon was beautiful, and that unnerved him. Things made for the express purpose of killing shouldn't look like that. They should be functional, certainly, maybe even noble or robust if the user thought like that, but beauty – true beauty – looked out of place here.
No killer deserved it.
A few faces, faded by time and a lack of familiarity, flickered through Nemaeus' mind. It didn't matter. He recognised every one. He'd consider himself lucky if he could ever forget.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what he was supposed to be thinking or feeling right now. He'd made his peace before he donned the noose. It was supposed to make up for the things he'd done, put it all beyond his power to fix or atone for. It was all meant to be over.
Hoping for a sign, or perhaps just to silently appeal to the heavens, Nemaeus opened his eyes and looked up at the sky at the same time as, quite by accident, Tria was falling from it.
He had time to blink, start to shout and turn around to run before she hit him with full force. (And a rather satisfying WHUMP.) Nemaeus instantly crumpled, landing face down on the ground and winded. His relatively restrained curses were fortunately muffled by the ever-obliging moss. Tria rolled off of him a few moments later and climbed to her feet.
“Ah,” she said, catching sight of her impact site. “Sorry.” It seemed an appropriate thing to say.
Nemaeus raised his head and looked at her, astonished. He staggered to his feet for the second time in as many minutes and – staying completely silent – twisted to look back at the sky. Hoofstad loomed. It was not as close as it might have been, partly because they were standing some distance from the point of collision and partly because it had rebounded slightly. But it was still utterly and undeniably there.
“You came from that planet?” Nemaeus didn't even bother to point. Tria looked up anyway, in spite of herself.
“That's where I jumped from.”
“Hm.”
Nemaeus stared at it for a moment more, stroking his stubble.
Somewhere far away, something rumbled and echoed. But in the aftermath of an earthquake, such noises are surprisingly easy to ignore.
He turned back to Tria, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked down at his shoes.
“You're one of the contestants. Combatants. Whatever we are and whatever this is.”
“Yeah.” Tria shifted her feet.
“Are you...? Do you intend to...?”
“Kill you?”
Nemaeus glanced up, and their gazes met for a moment. For the duration of that moment, Tria's thoughts completely derailed. For a single, silver breath she felt... happy. Everything was wonderful. Everything was peaceful. Everything was... silver.
But then the moment passed, and another second or so later and she was wondering why she'd thought that. The world, dreary and monotone as always, looked back.
“Yeah,” Nemaeus replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze still averted. “I'm not – that's not my intention, anyway. To kill anyone. I don't really know what to think of this situation, really.”
Tria rubbed her shoulder, suddenly aware of the pain again. “Yeah, okay. I'm not going to try it either.”
Still quite far away, something roared and echoed. It might have drawn the attention of the two talkers a little better if not for the muffling effect of distance. It might just be another rumble or aftershock, after all.
Nemaeus visibly relaxed at her words. “Good. That's good.” He still didn't look at her, instead examining the surroundings as if casting around for a topic of conversation.
“What's that?” Tria pointed at the sword. Sparks and streaks of lightning danced around the blade now, far faster and louder than previously.
Nemaeus looked at her, surprised again, then towards the sword. He moved towards it, paused midstep and suddenly looked up at the sky behind Tria.
Something roared again, and this time it wasn't distant.
Nemaeus dived for the crackling blade, wrapping his fingers around the hilt as he slammed into the ground. Rolling aside it was pulled free, and the spot where it had once stood burst into flame. Tria leaped back from the heat, throwing up an arm instinctively. An instant later, Nemaeus had grabbed it. Tria stumbled as he started running.
“What-”
“Don't look back! Just run!”
“But what is it?” She yelled, panic rising. If she just knew what the hell she was running from, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
“It's a fucking dragon!”
Perhaps not.