Post by Darastrix on Apr 29, 2015 4:15:41 GMT
Dara's Characters: A to Z
(To be updated whenever I think of something)
A is for Abscond
Zachriel
(To be updated whenever I think of something)
A is for Abscond
Zachriel
Zack's lungs burn as his boots thud unevenly against the hard turf of LOSAB, a trio of gashes across his ribs pulsing in time with his ragged breaths. He hasn't noticed the even deeper one gouged into his hip and thigh yet, though he dimly registers a pulling sensation from the bloodied leather sticking to the wound as he runs. What were those things? He wonders. All black with sharp teeth and claws and...parts that looked almost familiar. His wings twitch spasmodically with the instinct to escape into the air, but a net of strings crisscross through the crystalline trees overhead, preventing them from spreading to even a fraction of their full span.
He feels claustrophobic, despite the clear view of the open sky above. That makes it worse, in fact. A hallway or tunnel, Zack feels, he could handle. But to be outside with sky and safety so tantalizingly close, yet unable to reach it, with Jovah-knows-what hot on his heels.... Panic squeezes his chest, forcing his breath high into his throat, shallow and rapid, and he shakes his head violently as though that can dislodge those thoughts. Instead, the motion takes him off-balance and off his course, sending him stumbling into the web where it weaves between the trees all the way to the ground, creating eerie chords when the strings rub across the crystal.
His injured leg folds under him and he fumbles for his dice with blood-slicked fingers, too unused to the concept of a strife deck to call his weapon to hand, and looks back over his shoulder. The creatures aren't too far behind, and they stalk forward almost leisurely, as though they know their prey won't be getting up again. A low, painful sound mingles with the 'music' of the strings, and it takes Zack a moment to realize it's coming from his own throat.
He regrets leaving his sprite behind. It had scared and disturbed him as well – he'd initially run from it, in fact – but it seems harmless in retrospect. If he hadn't taken off, he wouldn't be in this mess. And if he'd had it with him...at least he wouldn't be about to die alone. Zack chokes on a sob, folding a wing in front of himself like a shield. He doesn't want to see them coming, and he doesn't care about dying bravely. He doesn't want to die at all.
Huddled behind his wing, Zack doesn't see the first bolts of light from Uriel's bow fall on the underlings, or hear the frantic shouts of his name. He's barely conscious when Zira slices through the strings, sword blazing, to reach him. By the time he's brought to Morrigan, he's the only one of their session who doesn't know he's safe.
He pants and sweats and dreams of running.
He feels claustrophobic, despite the clear view of the open sky above. That makes it worse, in fact. A hallway or tunnel, Zack feels, he could handle. But to be outside with sky and safety so tantalizingly close, yet unable to reach it, with Jovah-knows-what hot on his heels.... Panic squeezes his chest, forcing his breath high into his throat, shallow and rapid, and he shakes his head violently as though that can dislodge those thoughts. Instead, the motion takes him off-balance and off his course, sending him stumbling into the web where it weaves between the trees all the way to the ground, creating eerie chords when the strings rub across the crystal.
His injured leg folds under him and he fumbles for his dice with blood-slicked fingers, too unused to the concept of a strife deck to call his weapon to hand, and looks back over his shoulder. The creatures aren't too far behind, and they stalk forward almost leisurely, as though they know their prey won't be getting up again. A low, painful sound mingles with the 'music' of the strings, and it takes Zack a moment to realize it's coming from his own throat.
He regrets leaving his sprite behind. It had scared and disturbed him as well – he'd initially run from it, in fact – but it seems harmless in retrospect. If he hadn't taken off, he wouldn't be in this mess. And if he'd had it with him...at least he wouldn't be about to die alone. Zack chokes on a sob, folding a wing in front of himself like a shield. He doesn't want to see them coming, and he doesn't care about dying bravely. He doesn't want to die at all.
Huddled behind his wing, Zack doesn't see the first bolts of light from Uriel's bow fall on the underlings, or hear the frantic shouts of his name. He's barely conscious when Zira slices through the strings, sword blazing, to reach him. By the time he's brought to Morrigan, he's the only one of their session who doesn't know he's safe.
He pants and sweats and dreams of running.