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 Second Chances, ---+---The Fan Girls---+---
Posted: Apr 12 2008, 05:39 PM

Master of Runes

Group: Members
Posts: 19,248
Member No.: 59
Joined: 14-April 06

Its sitting there, waiting for you to reach out and take it, to trace your fingers across it and ponder its eternal and ever growing mysteries. Your hands seem to be numb, growing cold in these latter days as you selfishly wish for someone to be there to hold them.
You cant have your hand held forever, you know. No one is going to be there in the end to guide you along the path of the life you have so unfortunately wasted.
So go ahead, stretch your arms towards the heavens, hold out your hands so eagerly to receive the gift that many a man has died for, has dreamed for. Women plead for it, children scream about it, and even the beasts of the earth trample the ground in anticipation.

Maybe the gods are feeling gracious today. Perhaps your cleverly placed visage of innocence and never fading youth will cause them to feel just the right amount of mercy. But you are so undeserving of all you’ve been given, of all the blessings that have been bestowed upon your ungrateful head. You mock the future and scorn the past, seeing the present as an alternative to remembering.
Oh, but you cannot run forever. You may think as you go through life that you have forgotten it all, that you have caused the memories to cease. Ah, but they are still there, ever waiting, always ready to trickle into your thoughts, like a stream released from winter.

So go ahead and take it, steal it like you’ve stolen everything else you call yours, those items you so foolishly deem as your property.
This very thing could be given to someone much more deserving, yet its being sent from the heavens to you of all people.
If you mess it up, if you somehow ruin it, you will not only lose it, but everything else. Come to that realization and perhaps no evil will befall you that you cannot fight against.
So here it is.
Your Second Chance.

He refused to remove his hood, his one symbol of mystery and the hider of his identity. It was not his face
that Azrael was concerned about people seeing, more so his flame colored hair that had always managed to be seen and receive many a comment and jest. Even beneath the summer sun he would not push the thin leather off of his head, at least not until he got deeper into the forest, and he was quite a few hundred thoughts away from being there.

“Hey, guys! I just dropped in to say hello!” he said, pacing back and forth, then shook his head. His accent, though obviously elvish, was quite unique as he did not speak as properly as an elf, having the twist of a commoner’s tongue within it.

“So I was in town and decided to drop by!” he slapped his forehead with a gloved hand, deciding that he wouldn’t be able to find the words with his head in such a state. He slumped down against a tree, releasing a deep sigh as he closed his wild green eyes that so matched the forest around him.

The sound of buzzing insects and chirping birds began to clear his mind, the lullaby of the river a few yards away beginning to calm him. The thick grass was softer than velvet, and the tree’s trunk was like a well placed pillow behind his head. The sun escaped through the grasp of the tree tops, making its way down to him and the rest of the forest life, waking them and forcing any slumber out until it fell for the evening.

Feeling something poke his back, he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting his position. Yet, there it was, still making a valiant effort to annoy him. Upon further adjusting, he still could not find relief, finally turning and looking down to see the point of an arrow. An arrow?
He tilted his head to the side, raising a brow in curiosity as he picked it up, studying it with skilled hands and a keen eye.
It most certainly wasn’t of the elven make, the wood coming from a tree not native to this place, and the color painted upon it being dark. The metal of the point was quite dull, touched without favor by the ticking of time. It was of Albae make, he was sure…he was…
His heart stopped.
He glanced up at the tree slowly, examining its size and the way of its branches, then at the other trees, then focused on the grass, the light in his eyes fading.
This was the place.

Breathing unevenly with a feeling of nausea tugging at his senses, he slowly got to his feet, trying to steady himself as all the memories knocked on the door of his heart. He slammed his eyes shut, pushing them as far back as possible, the smell of blood unseen coming to his nostrils, of screams and shouts coming forth from voices unheard. He stumbled forward, catching himself before he fell, standing up straight and starting to take off running, his fist clenching the arrow so hard it nearly tore through to his skin. Then he heard hoof beats, loud and pounding as they pursued him, shouting out his name and calling to him in a harsh tongue. They were closer now, right behind him now, drawing their swords. He raised his head and looked up to see the cold piece of sharp metal coming down upon him, his eyes wide as crimson spilled-

Azrael jolted awake, his feet kicking a few empty bottles that rolled across the stoney street. His breathing was heavy and he tried to calm it, looking from left to right to see nothing but darkness, hearing a dog barking to the countless stars above his head. He then remembered that he was in Sivenanth, sitting against the back wall of the traveler’s inn, not having a room as the place was too full.
He ran his fingers through his messy hair and stood, pulling his gloves on tightly and starting to walk out into the darkness, looking to see if someone…anyone was there.

A feeling of loneliness washed over him, a feeling he hated yet never left him, just sitting there to be ignored. He pulled his hood over his head, hearing footsteps somewhere near.

user posted image
So does this post.
Don't judge.

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