Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Arahim]

---

Flight

Fine dust choked the air, displaced and shaken loose after what must have been shrouded years uncounted of mouldering rest. The feel in Arahim's throat gritty and dry as he raced up the final flight of stairs just behind Willow Smythe. The strain to snatch a wholesome breath was evident in them both.

The ruined stone tower groaned slightly, barely audible. The floors and tumble down walls grinding against one another as if the strain of simply supporting their combined weight was just too much. Occasional rock fall, or the crumbling of once stable footing served as reminder to their untenable situation.

Their flight to this point, had been eventful.

Willow had managed to attract seemingly every creature that walked, crawled, or flew, from every crack and crevasse in the labyrinthine city around them. All the while, between bursts of fleeing and fighting, assuring him that her memory of the place remained true, and that if he would keep up with her, they would find what she was looking for. And soon.

The words seemed sardonic now, as they reached to top of the tower. There was no next room. No bridge. Not even a stout door that they could bar shut. Only broken battlements, an ancient cannon, and a sheer drop.

Arahim's laugh was anything but happy.

Her armor rent in many places, and her sodden green hair plastered to her face, Willow still maintained a confidence, and composure that was used to wielding authority.

"Touch the cannon!" she yelled.

Smirking, Arahim pulled free his axe, glancing over his shoulder and down the chasm of the stairwell.

"Not just yet," he said.

[Arahim]

---

Pushing into a World

Sickly sweet was the scent that filled Arahim's nostrils as he bounded back downstairs.. A smell that reminded him of cinnamon and citrus, yet was anything but. It clung to the insides of his mouth and nose like thick congestion, crawling like a living thing.

Behind him, Willow fought back a gagging retch. The scowl she had for him as he looked back to her would have been comical if he did not share the same horrible feeling threatening the contents of his stomach.

The crumbling walls behind her seemed to pulse, becoming at once intangible, then solid with an erratic rhythm that grew in intensity the longer they stared. A great push and pull of invisible forces.

A sound like the tearing of air met the two just before the ground floor. A deep thrum beat within their ears resulting in an insistent buildup of pressure.

Willow, pausing to draw her kryss, rubbed her knuckles at her eyes to lessen the dull pain, while Arahim stood perfectly still, pinching his nose and squeezing his lids tightly closed.

Then silence.

[Willow Smythe]

---

Once simple question was asked before venturing out this night.

“Can you follow the command of a woman?” She wasn't asking to pull immediate rank, it was she that had the experience and their road ahead was treacherous. She didn't have time for insubordination.

He had followed her lead splendidly, yet when she finally gave a command he responds “Not yet”

What the hell are you waiting for?? TOUCH THE GOD DAMNED CANNON!

Arahim's eyes were fixed just over her right shoulder. In her rush to get to the cannon, she disregarded the window behind her with her back. Not a fatal mistake, but a costly one just the same.
The demon uttered words of power, sending a fireball right for her. Willow immediately dropped off her steed and rolled to her feed, tossing her blade at the beast hitting it in the mouth, just below
Arahim's own blade which nestled itself between the demon's eyes. They retrieved their weapons from the corpse. Arahim was the first to lay his hand on the cannon. Willow had just rolled her eyes.

Oh now you touch the cannon. Not BEFORE the creature became a danger, but after. Brilliant. Well done. She thought as she placed her own hand atop it.

Silence was just as deafening on her ear drums as the chaotic mayhem moments ago. Moments passed before her ears registered the proper noise of crashing waves and gentle breeze. Her ear still
sought after the sounds of battle that Chaos offered, as if they were only in the calm of a storm. Her feet made faster sense of her surroundings as they made their way to the water to rinse the residue
and grime of the events. Willow unabashedly began to pull off all her armor, leaving her in something just resembling a bloodied and soiled, pieced together shift. Usually it acts as a barrier between her
skin and the armor, protecting it from chafing, today it acted like a sponge, soaking up all that they had fought. Between the heat and the impending damage, there was no way she could continue to wear the
heavy gear with no battle near. At this point it was pointless to try and salvage the shift. She peeled it off and sat on the beach in her suit. If Ara were to strike at her now, she was still fairly confident that she
could still take him.

Normally Willow wouldn't care if she remained in the soiled state, but demon and dragon blood tend to be corrosive to her armor and steel. She'd be damned if she had to face her blacksmith sooner that she
had to. That man very nearly owns her soul with the constant repairs and upgrades she gets. She sat at the water's edge and began to clean her blades and armor as methodically as she was able, careful
to dry them so the salt water wouldn't accelerate any rust forming. Thankfully, her Imbued hilt remained untouched. It was always such a hassle to explain why she needed the willow wood. A sour expression
met her own when she finished. Willow couldn't help but laugh at him as he gargled the salt water.

“What?” He demanded

“Get a little too close to the succubus out there? Be careful there Ara, you have no idea where THAT one has been. Who knows what would happen if she were to sink her claws into you fully.” She snickered.
He laughed appreciatively and sat next to her, tasking himself with cleaning his own armor and weapon.

“So Willow, what binds you?”

The old question.... she had answered it many times before each with a different answer, yet her meaning remained the same... or did it? She used to answer duty, loyalty, her family.
What if it was accumulative? One single word escaped her lips that was indeed general yet all encompassing just the same.

“Life”

The word had such an innocuous and simplistic meaning, yet to her it meant so many things. All the old answers still applied almost, tenfold now. It was different somehow for her. They way
she viewed life was slightly skewed, almost ...temporary?

“Could you be a little more specific than that?” He jested. Annoyance stirred up inside of her. What right did he have to laugh? She stared a moment deadpan and then collected her
gear and lead the way to the camp. She dropped the huge bag containing her battle gear near the fire pit and used it against the fallen log as a pillow. When Arahim approached she promptly
informed him that not all the fruit was poisonous and he should eat up. Secretly she hoped that he figured she was lying and wouldn't eat.They made polite conversation as they recuperated.
The beach began to loose it's novelty after find it's way into everything from crevices to food. When they rose to leave, one more last bold question was asked whilst ridding themselves of as
much sand as possible.

“Shall we leave this place and get a drink?” He offered. The prospect of liquid that contained no form of detectable salt made her salivate.

“Aye, lead the way” She answered

“So how many times have you been to this secret place?” She smirked at this.

“A fair few have set foot on this beach. I believe my father was the first to show me these waters, then my clan. Eddie was the last one to come here with me, more than a year ago. There is
another secret beach however, that will continue to remain a secret. I am sure you'll understand” She said as she stepped through the transporter and made her way to the theater for a drink.
_________________
Malorn ‎(12:14 AM):
I'm an idiot