yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2012-07-29 11:30 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2012-07-29 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
421;
Title: two dumb short(ies)
Characters: F. Mage, M. Mage
Rating: G
143/365.
Left. Right. Kick. Left. Right. Kick. The movements are as familiar to him as any magic he’s ever cast, fluid and landing every hit. The monster explodes on the last punch - one with his right hand, through its chest - and he wonders why they always do they as he kneels down to look at the spoils. He stands again, cracks his knuckles, and moves forward and into the next room.
He had been a thug. The glacial masters’s mouth curls at the edges, thinking of how he had fought the weak and the helpless, how he had bullied people younger than him at home, and how he was doing the same here. The puppeteers certainly are far below his level - if not in power then in skill, their spikes no match for his speed - as are the golems that roam the expansive room, commanded by one doll-like creature that laughs when she ducks out of his reach and screams when he manages to slice her in half. The ice sword dissipates as easily as it had appeared, its crystals melting back into water in the air, and he takes a final look around before ducking through another pair of blue crystal stands.
The ice sword returns to his hand in an instant, making short work of the creatures in front of him. He feels neither loss nor regret when it disappears, and the spears that he crystallizes next is heavy in his right. It still sails as if it were a paper airplane, though with a far sharper edge, straight and true through the line of puppeteers. They immediately scatter, shrieking, and the glacial master is left alone, the towering red crystals marking the boss’s room before him.
—
“They’re harmless.” The witch hugs Jackyl to her chest with a grin. Her companion purses his lips and shakes Jack Frost’s hand, feeling his cheeks warm up when the little creature’s master laughs. “Except for in battle. Jackyl’s really good at keeping monsters in line, and Jack Frost never minds giving them a piece of his mind. Florae -” the ball of light in question swirls above her head, excited to be mentioned “- never lets anything touch me, and Pluto’s always got my back.”
The black cat purrs and keeps grooming himself, although the glacial amster sees no reason for it; he was made of shadow, not of flesh and blood, after all. The witch’s grin turns into a soft smile and she scoots closer, laying her hand on his and Jack Frost’s clasped pair. For as long as he had known her, the witch was a girl who wore her emotions on her sleeve; now there was nothing, except for a hint of sadness as she carefully takes the little snowman from his lap.
“They’re the ones who keep me company most of the time.” She busies herself with adjusting the snowman’s hat, fingers sweeping around the small brim of it. “I don’t know where I’d be without them.”
Her words are met with silence; he’s not sure how to reply, and she doesn’t seem to expect one.
Characters: F. Mage, M. Mage
Rating: G
143/365.
Left. Right. Kick. Left. Right. Kick. The movements are as familiar to him as any magic he’s ever cast, fluid and landing every hit. The monster explodes on the last punch - one with his right hand, through its chest - and he wonders why they always do they as he kneels down to look at the spoils. He stands again, cracks his knuckles, and moves forward and into the next room.
He had been a thug. The glacial masters’s mouth curls at the edges, thinking of how he had fought the weak and the helpless, how he had bullied people younger than him at home, and how he was doing the same here. The puppeteers certainly are far below his level - if not in power then in skill, their spikes no match for his speed - as are the golems that roam the expansive room, commanded by one doll-like creature that laughs when she ducks out of his reach and screams when he manages to slice her in half. The ice sword dissipates as easily as it had appeared, its crystals melting back into water in the air, and he takes a final look around before ducking through another pair of blue crystal stands.
The ice sword returns to his hand in an instant, making short work of the creatures in front of him. He feels neither loss nor regret when it disappears, and the spears that he crystallizes next is heavy in his right. It still sails as if it were a paper airplane, though with a far sharper edge, straight and true through the line of puppeteers. They immediately scatter, shrieking, and the glacial master is left alone, the towering red crystals marking the boss’s room before him.
—
“They’re harmless.” The witch hugs Jackyl to her chest with a grin. Her companion purses his lips and shakes Jack Frost’s hand, feeling his cheeks warm up when the little creature’s master laughs. “Except for in battle. Jackyl’s really good at keeping monsters in line, and Jack Frost never minds giving them a piece of his mind. Florae -” the ball of light in question swirls above her head, excited to be mentioned “- never lets anything touch me, and Pluto’s always got my back.”
The black cat purrs and keeps grooming himself, although the glacial amster sees no reason for it; he was made of shadow, not of flesh and blood, after all. The witch’s grin turns into a soft smile and she scoots closer, laying her hand on his and Jack Frost’s clasped pair. For as long as he had known her, the witch was a girl who wore her emotions on her sleeve; now there was nothing, except for a hint of sadness as she carefully takes the little snowman from his lap.
“They’re the ones who keep me company most of the time.” She busies herself with adjusting the snowman’s hat, fingers sweeping around the small brim of it. “I don’t know where I’d be without them.”
Her words are met with silence; he’s not sure how to reply, and she doesn’t seem to expect one.