Private Tales A Long Way From Home

[Pasion Pasiva]

Lucis crouched low near the water's edge. With elbows on knees, and balancing on the balls of his booted feet, he peered up through tendrils of silver-white hair that fell across his forehead and over his eyes. But there was little to see.

The misty exterior of the dense forest didn’t give away much of what was hidden just beyond the creek’s path. And so, where eyesight failed him, the hybrid offspring of a long-dead nation, closed his golden eyes and tilted his head in a curious manner, much like a bird -- animal-like in nature. He listened, through the suddenly thunderous sound of water falling, crashing, swirling, and jostling down a jagged path of rocks and distant cascades. The sound of the water was near deafening.

He could pick through the sounds. Frowning, and pinching his pale eyebrows, he listened to the call of forest birds high up in the canopy of trees and even down low, under the shrubbery that grew close to the ground. There was also the distinct sound of hooves, small and delicate, as something picked its way along a carpet of fallen and decomposing leaves.

He could sit there and listen for days -- so rich was the orchestra of the forest, but there wasn’t time for any of that. Lucis was a man on a mission. He needed to arrive within the gated city of Alliria within the week, and with the better part of a month’s long -- grueling -- journey already behind him, he was very aware of the burnout that was starting to creep up around the corners of his existence. He yearned to sleep. The mossy bank where he crouched looked like a good enough place to lay down on his back and close his eyes for a day or two, or more. He could sleep for a whole year, he was sure of it. But his body did not show the signs of his mental exhaustion -- that was the beauty of being a vampyre after all.

Cupping his hands and dipping them into the ice-cold water, Lucis splashed his face until the weariness folded back on itself. He was tired and hungry, but there was no point in stopping now. So he stood back up, winced at the aches in his back and down the length of his caves, and looked back up to follow the path of the creek.

Devoid of any luxuries for travel, Lucis simply fixed his heavy coat about his shoulders, smoothed it down his sides, and adjusted the pommel of his long sword at his hip before continuing his climb upward and forward.

 

[Lemoine Persona]

Pasion Pasiva
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Star-dust eyes swept the beauty of the forest in a rapid glance that immediately overwhelmed her. The feel of the cold earth made her toes curl, causing dirt and leaves to get caught between the worn appendages. She's still determining how long she has been running or how many steps she has put between herself and them, but it was enough to exhaust her troubled lungs and blister her bare feet. Fear is a powerful motivator; she could easily ignore the burning in her chest and the pains of her minor wounds, with fear thickening her tolerance.

A slight shuffle in the forest's depths made her take an uncoordinated step back, causing her to tumble over an errant root. The crash downwards knocked the air out of her, and as she tried to breathe in the forest's fresh air, she turned to her torn knees and hands in a panic. Having the wind knocked out of her was enough to cause her jumbled thoughts to roll forward.

Fire, everywhere, fire. She remembers the fires vividly; behind closed eyes, her mind conjured up the lapping heat of the raging fire that swept across ... homes? Fields? Buildings? There was no clear picture of what exactly was being destroyed, just the screaming voices ripe with fear and confusion. Then there were the grasping fingers that reached for her person as if she were some beacon of safety. After that, just darkness and an aching amount of confusion. No memory of faces, names, or reasoning. Just fire, screams, fear, and pain - so much pain.

Resting on her hands and knees, Lemoine sobbed. No one was chasing her right now, no monsters hiding in the shadows, just herself and the forest noises. The swelling of hurt overwhelmed her in a deluge of confusion - where she was, how she got there, and why she was there, all smashed and twisted together.

Calming, the small woman sat back on her knees. Dirty hands wiped away the steady flow of tears, smudging her tender face; her long, pink hair was tangled from wrestling hanging branches and drifting leaves. At first glance, a weary traveler would mistake her for a wood sprite basking in the beauty of the forest. The white dress she wore was tattered and stained; instead of making her appear fearful, it only painted her otherworldly.

Lemoine only wished she was some wild sprite holding reign over the forest. Not some lost creature without a memory that told her about home and family.

Feeling sorry for herself long enough, she stands up on weary legs and moves forward towards the sound of water - a wonderful, beautiful sound. Quickly, she moved around trees and their roots to emerge on the edge of a creek. She let out a slight whine of relief and stepped into the cold water, its icy touch sending a shock through her exhausted body.