Writing Meme
Mar. 30th, 2013 01:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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logseries. Tales of Destiny, Tales of Legendia
warning. Rated PG
notes. Fills for Koyu!
Walter and Leon, AU, deathmatch
They were already drained to the last vestige of their strength when Walter's hands snaked around Leon's neck, leading to a numbing struggle as he plunged his foe underwater.
I won't be drowned—!
Leon struggled in spite of his waning energy, his hands ditching his treasured sword and flying to those apprehending his airway. He pushed down, and though he briefly secured the most minuscule of space for himself, Walter returned with a vengeful force before he could emerge. There was no strength left in him to kick at the taller form towering above him, and the maddeningly still waters stole away his breath, rendering him senseless and dizzy and desperate as his body instinctively tensed up.
He clamped down on Walter's hands and concentrated, the dark glyph beneath their tangled forms flickering with his inward invocation. The waters shook and then burst from the dark spell, catching Walter at its core and nearly removing his hold on Leon. But Walter was ever persistent and notorious for his stubbornness even among other Ferines, and he not once fully yielded to the pain—and Leon was therefore not once afforded the chance to escape the water, but to be condemned as he sought to deliver the same unto his nemesis.
They were both tired, and if their exhaustion didn't kill them, they would each other. No other option remained, for they had long passed the point of no return; Walter had, at any rate, and the idiot couldn't be convinced once he made up his mind.
Leon knew, and he had resolved to seal both their fates in the barbaric battle that had gradually stripped them of proper tactics and techniques, leaving them with the barest instinct of survival that had been tattered to pieces. They were now mindless human beings seeking to best the other, perhaps not even, and Leon was acutely aware that neither of them would succeed. He was aware that they would perish together, regardless of whatever Walter thought; Walter, who held no regard for his own life and saw it merely as a marker of his twisted duty.
Dimly, in the numbing midst of his continuous spells and strangulation, Leon noticed Walter's hands shook from fatigue—and a sort of displaced passion, as if he were dying.
And he was.
And so was Leon, as the last of his contained breath expired. He could only suck in more water—the kind of water only Walter could breathe like the air and not himself, a fact which Walter was perfectly aware of and did anyway. The worst way to die in this situation, Leon mused in frantic thought, as one who could live in the water sneered at his own inability to do the same.
It was cruel, but he supposed he was cruel as well for throwing one curse spell after another, knowing that they struck hardest in Ferines.
He knew all these things, yet he did them all and took them all as part of the vicious cycle his worthless life had taken to. He still struggled, if futilely, as his body jerked violently to the lack of oxygen. But when he thought again of the cycle, drowning didn't come to him as such an ironic death. It only felt appropriate.
And I'm taking you with me.
And he knew he had, even when his consciousness slipped away first.
Walter's grip had loosened.
Walter and Leon, AU2
When Judas claimed that Walter had changed, he was right. The fact that he stood between Judas and the Merines—Shirley, her name was—spoke more for the change than any other action he'd ever taken in his puppet's life, and he did so without the slightest hint of hesitation. He had made his vow: he would protect pitiful Shirley, for whom he held no love.
In spite of his misgivings with her, those he had with Judas were greater and led him to fingering the pommel of his sword, ready to be drawn at a second's flash. Perhaps it was wrong to pin those misgivings on Judas, who was nothing more than a puppet with worn strings, but it was a fainthearted fool's mercy to pardon a doll of all its errors. It was for this reason that Walter glowered, unmoving, and ensured that Shirley remained at a desirable distance from her prospective captor.
"Move," Judas warned, moving to unsheathe his sword.
"You won't take her," Walter replied. He fell to stance first, hilt held firmly with both hands before him. It was a declaration of war that Judas answered immediately with the quick draw of his sword, and the clang that the blades made on contact pierced the silence that loomed over them.
They exchanged blows in that same silence for the first few, Judas attempting to bypass the guard as Walter held his ground, unyielding to his advances to skip over toward Shirley. He had no desire to move, and so he held the distinct advantage of playing the wall, whereas Judas was pressed for time. It was also the cause of Walter's disadvantage when Judas paced his strikes well above that of his, and it took all of his concentration to simply keep up and keep themselves grounded to the same spot.
When he noticed the shine of Judas' dagger pommel, Walter shot his left hand out to intercept it, his right pressing his own sword against that of his opponent.
"Move, and I won't cut you down here," Judas warned again, pushing forward with both sword and dagger.
"I won't lose to a puppet," said Walter. His superior strength locked their blades in place, but the apparent truce ended in a flash when Judas purposely recoiled. Just as soon, Walter reared in his strength to prevent throwing himself at the ground. It was enough of an opening for Judas to kick off of Walter's back, straight toward Shirley—
"Grave!"
The earth thrust upward and intercepted Judas' leap. Walter whipped around on the heel of his boots.
"Run!" he commanded to Shirley, who nodded after a start and took off. Then he threw himself at Judas, pummeling them both to the ground with every bit of intention to keep them there on Walter's part—long enough for Shirley to make her escape to the likes of Senel and Chloe.
Judas cursed and kicked out. But Walter dug his fingers into the dirt, and he clung to the earth with all of his might while pressing his weight down upon the smaller body. He was taller and had more weight on his lithe form, enabling him to do as he purposed over Judas' petite frame. Judas had always been small; he was young, after all, and while that had afforded him the advantage of youth in his previous battles, it would be a disadvantage for him here.
As well, his youthful ignorance would be put to the test.
"Why do you continue to do as he orders?" Walter asked amid their struggle, all the while elbowing the crook of Judas' own, disabling the use of his arm. When Judas elected not to answer, Walter continued: "He'll never gain the power he seeks. So why?"
It was as though his own personality was butting heads with him when Judas remained silent. Had it been anyone else, Walter would have been the taciturn one of few words; but where Judas was concerned, it was oft the contest of quietude that now wrung more words out of him. Yet his questions were voiced in vain, and Judas played the role of the ideal puppet who would refuse to rat out his master on pain of death. But Walter had no intention of offing him here.
It was unnecessary.
Eventually he conceded to Judas' clamped lips, and he relinquished his iron grip when the familiar shouts of Chloe rang into the clearing. All things considered, not a long period of time had passed—five minutes, at the most, yet that had been an eternity in the heat of battle.
Judas shot up the second he was allowed room. For a brief moment he stood, contemplating his next move as the telltale signs of incoming persons pressured him. He eyed Walter warily, then swiftly turned away and retrieved his sword before breaking into an impressive retreat. He was gone within seconds, though his mind must have argued with him no to. But he had done the wise thing, even if he would pay for the perceived failure at the hands of his father, Walter knew.
When Chloe and Senel came into the clearing and asked as about Judas' whereabouts, Walter simply headed in another direction and said that the fool had gone. He ignored all other enquiries.
That night, he left with brief words of parting. He would only be gone for a short while, and they need not follow him. When they asked why, he preferred to keep the reason secret.
He had a maid and a boy named Leon to see.
warning. Rated PG
notes. Fills for Koyu!
Walter and Leon, AU, deathmatch
They were already drained to the last vestige of their strength when Walter's hands snaked around Leon's neck, leading to a numbing struggle as he plunged his foe underwater.
I won't be drowned—!
Leon struggled in spite of his waning energy, his hands ditching his treasured sword and flying to those apprehending his airway. He pushed down, and though he briefly secured the most minuscule of space for himself, Walter returned with a vengeful force before he could emerge. There was no strength left in him to kick at the taller form towering above him, and the maddeningly still waters stole away his breath, rendering him senseless and dizzy and desperate as his body instinctively tensed up.
He clamped down on Walter's hands and concentrated, the dark glyph beneath their tangled forms flickering with his inward invocation. The waters shook and then burst from the dark spell, catching Walter at its core and nearly removing his hold on Leon. But Walter was ever persistent and notorious for his stubbornness even among other Ferines, and he not once fully yielded to the pain—and Leon was therefore not once afforded the chance to escape the water, but to be condemned as he sought to deliver the same unto his nemesis.
They were both tired, and if their exhaustion didn't kill them, they would each other. No other option remained, for they had long passed the point of no return; Walter had, at any rate, and the idiot couldn't be convinced once he made up his mind.
Leon knew, and he had resolved to seal both their fates in the barbaric battle that had gradually stripped them of proper tactics and techniques, leaving them with the barest instinct of survival that had been tattered to pieces. They were now mindless human beings seeking to best the other, perhaps not even, and Leon was acutely aware that neither of them would succeed. He was aware that they would perish together, regardless of whatever Walter thought; Walter, who held no regard for his own life and saw it merely as a marker of his twisted duty.
Dimly, in the numbing midst of his continuous spells and strangulation, Leon noticed Walter's hands shook from fatigue—and a sort of displaced passion, as if he were dying.
And he was.
And so was Leon, as the last of his contained breath expired. He could only suck in more water—the kind of water only Walter could breathe like the air and not himself, a fact which Walter was perfectly aware of and did anyway. The worst way to die in this situation, Leon mused in frantic thought, as one who could live in the water sneered at his own inability to do the same.
It was cruel, but he supposed he was cruel as well for throwing one curse spell after another, knowing that they struck hardest in Ferines.
He knew all these things, yet he did them all and took them all as part of the vicious cycle his worthless life had taken to. He still struggled, if futilely, as his body jerked violently to the lack of oxygen. But when he thought again of the cycle, drowning didn't come to him as such an ironic death. It only felt appropriate.
And I'm taking you with me.
And he knew he had, even when his consciousness slipped away first.
Walter's grip had loosened.
Walter and Leon, AU2
When Judas claimed that Walter had changed, he was right. The fact that he stood between Judas and the Merines—Shirley, her name was—spoke more for the change than any other action he'd ever taken in his puppet's life, and he did so without the slightest hint of hesitation. He had made his vow: he would protect pitiful Shirley, for whom he held no love.
In spite of his misgivings with her, those he had with Judas were greater and led him to fingering the pommel of his sword, ready to be drawn at a second's flash. Perhaps it was wrong to pin those misgivings on Judas, who was nothing more than a puppet with worn strings, but it was a fainthearted fool's mercy to pardon a doll of all its errors. It was for this reason that Walter glowered, unmoving, and ensured that Shirley remained at a desirable distance from her prospective captor.
"Move," Judas warned, moving to unsheathe his sword.
"You won't take her," Walter replied. He fell to stance first, hilt held firmly with both hands before him. It was a declaration of war that Judas answered immediately with the quick draw of his sword, and the clang that the blades made on contact pierced the silence that loomed over them.
They exchanged blows in that same silence for the first few, Judas attempting to bypass the guard as Walter held his ground, unyielding to his advances to skip over toward Shirley. He had no desire to move, and so he held the distinct advantage of playing the wall, whereas Judas was pressed for time. It was also the cause of Walter's disadvantage when Judas paced his strikes well above that of his, and it took all of his concentration to simply keep up and keep themselves grounded to the same spot.
When he noticed the shine of Judas' dagger pommel, Walter shot his left hand out to intercept it, his right pressing his own sword against that of his opponent.
"Move, and I won't cut you down here," Judas warned again, pushing forward with both sword and dagger.
"I won't lose to a puppet," said Walter. His superior strength locked their blades in place, but the apparent truce ended in a flash when Judas purposely recoiled. Just as soon, Walter reared in his strength to prevent throwing himself at the ground. It was enough of an opening for Judas to kick off of Walter's back, straight toward Shirley—
"Grave!"
The earth thrust upward and intercepted Judas' leap. Walter whipped around on the heel of his boots.
"Run!" he commanded to Shirley, who nodded after a start and took off. Then he threw himself at Judas, pummeling them both to the ground with every bit of intention to keep them there on Walter's part—long enough for Shirley to make her escape to the likes of Senel and Chloe.
Judas cursed and kicked out. But Walter dug his fingers into the dirt, and he clung to the earth with all of his might while pressing his weight down upon the smaller body. He was taller and had more weight on his lithe form, enabling him to do as he purposed over Judas' petite frame. Judas had always been small; he was young, after all, and while that had afforded him the advantage of youth in his previous battles, it would be a disadvantage for him here.
As well, his youthful ignorance would be put to the test.
"Why do you continue to do as he orders?" Walter asked amid their struggle, all the while elbowing the crook of Judas' own, disabling the use of his arm. When Judas elected not to answer, Walter continued: "He'll never gain the power he seeks. So why?"
It was as though his own personality was butting heads with him when Judas remained silent. Had it been anyone else, Walter would have been the taciturn one of few words; but where Judas was concerned, it was oft the contest of quietude that now wrung more words out of him. Yet his questions were voiced in vain, and Judas played the role of the ideal puppet who would refuse to rat out his master on pain of death. But Walter had no intention of offing him here.
It was unnecessary.
Eventually he conceded to Judas' clamped lips, and he relinquished his iron grip when the familiar shouts of Chloe rang into the clearing. All things considered, not a long period of time had passed—five minutes, at the most, yet that had been an eternity in the heat of battle.
Judas shot up the second he was allowed room. For a brief moment he stood, contemplating his next move as the telltale signs of incoming persons pressured him. He eyed Walter warily, then swiftly turned away and retrieved his sword before breaking into an impressive retreat. He was gone within seconds, though his mind must have argued with him no to. But he had done the wise thing, even if he would pay for the perceived failure at the hands of his father, Walter knew.
When Chloe and Senel came into the clearing and asked as about Judas' whereabouts, Walter simply headed in another direction and said that the fool had gone. He ignored all other enquiries.
That night, he left with brief words of parting. He would only be gone for a short while, and they need not follow him. When they asked why, he preferred to keep the reason secret.
He had a maid and a boy named Leon to see.