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niteo_logs2010-05-03 08:56 pm
thirteen-blades.livejournal.com) wrote in niteo_logs2010-05-03 08:56 pm
Entry tags:
what i show you is reality. what you remember...
Who: Espedon, anybody
Where: Apartment Rooftop
When: May 3rd
What: Meditation interrupted?
Espedon sat on the roof of the apartments, seated in a half-lotus position on top of a rudimentary pillow- his backpack, stuffed with spare clothing. Rays of sunlight poked through the clouds overhead, one of a few dense pockets of shade in in the otherwise brilliant sky. A look of perfect concentration occupied his face, but his eyes were still dark from the insomnia that still plagued him.
Around him, seven blades hung suspended at varying levels in the air. The Seventh hovered directly behind him, glowing faintly, like some saint's halo. To his right, a squat, but solid, blade with a hilt reminiscent of a shield floated low over the roof. Angelfire, the blade he'd used to cut a path through the snow, levitated to his left.
Spinning idly above him, there was a straightsword, its golden, dragon-shaped hilt forming a gilded cage which housed a sphere of some exotic metal. An arming sword, with an abyssal eye in its hilt and a blade of black steel, hovered high behind him. Not far from it, a rapier of luminescent silver levitated, its beautiful hilt gleaming almost enticingly.
Before him, seeming to commune with him, one more blade hovered. It appeared to be crafted of some sort of wood, long-worn and found in the heart of some deadly, blackhearted jungle. Shard of obsidian were inserted all down the two sides of the weapon, forming a jagged and wickedly sharp blade. The air around it seemed to twist and writhe, an aura of delirium that begged to be danced with.
Periodically, the blades would shift their positions around Espedon's meditating form, but the last blade- Calexus- would remain still, its aura growing subtly stronger with each shifting. The blade hunter's amber eyes, the pupils of which were narrowed into the shape of blades, remained distant, locked on some unseen horizon.
"Speak, please," he uttered, unaware that his thoughts had crossed into speech.
Where: Apartment Rooftop
When: May 3rd
What: Meditation interrupted?
Espedon sat on the roof of the apartments, seated in a half-lotus position on top of a rudimentary pillow- his backpack, stuffed with spare clothing. Rays of sunlight poked through the clouds overhead, one of a few dense pockets of shade in in the otherwise brilliant sky. A look of perfect concentration occupied his face, but his eyes were still dark from the insomnia that still plagued him.
Around him, seven blades hung suspended at varying levels in the air. The Seventh hovered directly behind him, glowing faintly, like some saint's halo. To his right, a squat, but solid, blade with a hilt reminiscent of a shield floated low over the roof. Angelfire, the blade he'd used to cut a path through the snow, levitated to his left.
Spinning idly above him, there was a straightsword, its golden, dragon-shaped hilt forming a gilded cage which housed a sphere of some exotic metal. An arming sword, with an abyssal eye in its hilt and a blade of black steel, hovered high behind him. Not far from it, a rapier of luminescent silver levitated, its beautiful hilt gleaming almost enticingly.
Before him, seeming to commune with him, one more blade hovered. It appeared to be crafted of some sort of wood, long-worn and found in the heart of some deadly, blackhearted jungle. Shard of obsidian were inserted all down the two sides of the weapon, forming a jagged and wickedly sharp blade. The air around it seemed to twist and writhe, an aura of delirium that begged to be danced with.
Periodically, the blades would shift their positions around Espedon's meditating form, but the last blade- Calexus- would remain still, its aura growing subtly stronger with each shifting. The blade hunter's amber eyes, the pupils of which were narrowed into the shape of blades, remained distant, locked on some unseen horizon.
"Speak, please," he uttered, unaware that his thoughts had crossed into speech.
no subject
Rather than finding purchase on Espedon's shoulder, Link's hand would be repelled by a sudden force, almost as if an anti-Link magnet had gotten between him and his quarry. Interposed in mid-air between the youth and the blade-hunter was Curtana, the squat, shield-hilted blade. The air, in the shape of a rudimentary wall, distorted around it, protecting Espedon's exposed back.
In his other hand, his left, Youlong- the Dragon Sword- materialized in a flash of steel. Espedon pivoted on the ball of his foot, snatching Curtana from the air (causing the wall to dissipate) and lunging toward Link. He drove the point of Youlong toward him with a well-trained thrust as he did, being sure not to move at full speed- the tip was sharp, and skewering the boy wasn't a part of the plan.
While he no longer had the reach advantage, the short, stubby Curtana and the standard-sized Youlong gave him the maneuverability he'd need to keep from catching a shield in the face.