|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Leap Without Looking"So," Mercutio said with a smile too wide for his face, "since you are staying with me, where shall we visit first?"
Something in Cian made him wonder why he just agreed to spend more time with this man. Mercutio, at best, was an unknown party. Cian knew him as another Eternal, one who had possibly more than one name, and a personality that was more complicated than it appeared. But he looked so terrified of being alone again. The expression of sheer panic and terror that Mercutio couldn't have controlled had been enough to change Cian's mind. Since when had he been so easily swayed? That incident with Chara had been a fluke. He wasn't a man who changed his mind like that. And yet
Cian sighed, "You said you had been traveling around this galaxy," he murmured. "Where did you still want to visit?"
"There are a number of mountain and garden worlds that I was looking at but h
An Unwelcome GuestA beautiful world sat below his feet. It was small, but Xenos had learned long ago not to judge a world by its physical size. Any world with life on it had its own beauty and charm, and this one was no exception. From just the few minutes he spent gazing it he could see two large continents, but one was more advanced than the other. It was far more diverse too. There were humans (boring), animal people (less so), giant animals (not uncommon), magic (interesting enough), and then shapeshifters (immensely interesting). Xenos smiled as he looked over this world, it was called Entity. He had to see it from the ground, meet some of those shapeshifters, and learn their secrets.
Not even a day had passed since Xenos landed on Entity. The main continent was huge, spanning thousands of miles in every direction. He had noted where the shapeshifters lived, but they didn't seem the type to a
Doesn't It Bother You?"That was marvelous!" Mercutio said, laughing as he and Cian appeared in space.
He hadn't had such a rush of adrenaline in such a long time! It was wonderful to feel alive, truly living, again! After existing for so long Mercutio had a hard time differentiating life from death. He knew he wasn't dead, but sometimes when nothing happened for so long, he began to wonder
"All of the dancing and singing! Stars if I could sing like that," laughed the jovial space elf.
If Mercutio could sing like the Av'ikir (fun fact: he could, he just didn't) he would fill all of space with their songs. The silence, while nice, was too much sometimes. There was no sound, no music, no crunching of dirt or leaves or twigs out in space. Simply silence.
"I have been wandering the galaxy for a while now and completely forgot how much I enjoyed the Av'ikir! I should make a note to"
"You lied to m
Space"SPIRITS SAVE ME!" I shrieked as loudly as I could.
Instead of being in my house, with all of my books at the ready to become weapons, I found myself standing on nothing. There was nothing under my feet but I could feel I was standing. There was no buzz of bugs nor was there the unbearable humidity, harsh sunlight, or anything I knew.
Out of reflex I grabbed onto Tempus's arms and shivered uncontrollably. Looking down all I saw was swirling darkness, peppered with silver dots and white lights.
"What did you do?! Is this an illusion?! Where"
"Breathe first," Tempus instructed.
For some reason I listened to him. I shut my eyes and took a very deep breath. How was there air? There was nothing!
"How am I breathing?" I gasped.
"This is my home," Tempus explained.
I opened my eyes and searched his. Gold eyes with white pupils stared gently back at me. I sh
It's A StartThe shift from the bare, dark, silence of space to a bright, warm, forest world used to be jarring for Cian. Now it was as simple as breathing. The forests of Sesmia were soaked in humidity, making Cian's dark curls frizz out and sweat begin to coat his skin. It wasn't unenjoyable, but he knew planets with milder climates. He also knew planets with worse climates, but that wasn't important. Curiously, Mercutio didn't seem bothered by the muggy climate. The humidity made his straight hair a bit wavier, but he didn't look as uncomfortable as Cian knew he had to be. Mercutio still had that silly smile on his face, and he walked with a definite spring to his step. He shouldn't be walking that happily.
"You shouldn't be barefoot," scoffed Cian, hating that he had to be here right now.
Mercutio sighed and gave Cian a sidelong glance. He had one eyebrow quirked up, his smile thin and wry.
How The Universe WorksAt this point, not much surprised Cian. Every planet seemed to be the same; all the people were the same, and the way their histories played out in the grand scheme of time were all the same. Take this world in front of him right now. It was populated by a race of bird-humanoids that worshipped the weather. They were in their infant stages of knowledge, worshiping rather than understanding. They were split into tribes, some friendly with each other, some decidedly not. The people were doomed to fail and fall into war, some tribes would die, or perhaps the whole world would. If they didn't, life continued and perhaps there would be a renaissance or enlightenment. If they all died then he could come back in another thousand years and see the new life emerging, only to fall into the same trap its ancestors had.
"Lovely world, Sesmia is," said a voice behind him.
Chills ran up Cian's spine and he jerked
ScarsHe won't let me touch them. Every time my hand or a finger strays towards his neck he freezes. There's a look to his teal eyes, a quick glazing of something sharp and clearit's shame. He hates those marks, hates that he did them to himself, and hates that I can see them.
I'm trying to find some way to let him know it's ok, I can understand, sort of. I've never been driven anywhere close to that kind of despair. But we're not the same person, and we've lived completely different lives, so is that so surprising? I tried to kiss the edge of one of them once. He didn't pull away, Alistair never pulls away, but I felt the way his skin crawled.
We all have scars. Dad does, Vergil does, Keero does, I do, Crystal does, even a king (ex-king?) like Zephyr does. And the people who don't have physical scars still have scars. I've tried saying that to Alistair, but he doesn't like hea
L is for LossShe had been sick for a while. At first it was just little things, coughing and shaking. Then it got worse. Damien watched as her fingertips started to grey, how she couldn't move them anymore, the same thing happened to her toes. Sooner than they expected, Elizabeth could neither hold a needle nor walk. Work was out of the question. The only option left was to get a healer.
Damien had thought that Marcus, the herbalist in Reichfar was a healer, but in the end he wasn't. The man had gone and pulled every favor he could in that town. He worked for the constable, he ran messages for the mayor, he delivered groceries for Octavian, he took care of Griog's pigs, he helped Kester at his hovel. In short, if there was a job that needed to be done, Damien did it. On top of that he hunted big game now. Deer, bears, foxes, creavers, and he once found a ferrin but decided against trying to
K is for KesterOne weekend Damien decided he wouldn't go home. Father had been shouting, drunk, he made a mess of the living room and Elizabeth didn't stop him. Damien didn't know how she expected him to stop their father, but he couldn't. He was only thirteen, hardly big enough to be a threat, and far from strong enough to stop his father.
So Damien decided he simply wouldn't. He wouldn't do anything. He wasn't going to sit at home and take a beating he didn't deserve. He wasn't going to collect the broken pieces of a house that wasn't his home. He wasn't going to sit at Elizabeth's feet as she lied and told him 'No, father loves you. Just sometimes ' because he didn't. Father hated Damien, and when he didn't hate Damien he didn't anything Damien. The forest was more a home to Damien at this point anyways. Molly was in the forest, and she would take him in.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More