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Sentiment Destiny

"Pheonyx!!  Pheonyx!!!"

I could hear my name being bellowed, but did not look back behind me as I ran.  I knew full well who was yelling, and exactly why he was.  After a few more steps, however, I swiveled on my boot to face the footfalls behind me.

"Get back!  Get everyone back and make sure--!"

"No!  You're not going out there by yourself!"

With a scrape along the dusty and deadened ground, I skid to a stop before the man at least a foot taller than I.

"Ryphon.  That is an order."

"But Pheonyx--!"

I could hear my name and the name of my companion being called as the head of a much smaller army than the one we were facing approached.  My tone became much more stern, and I looked my companion in the eye.

"Ryphon.  That is a direct order."

"I don't care, I'm not going to--!"

"Keep them back, I'm going in."

"No you're not, you're--"

"I thank you for everything, Ryphon.  I'd have been lost without you."

There was a moment of silence before my companion of so many years finally understood what I was about to do.

"...Pheonyx, no, no you can't--"

"I must.  I bid you fare well, Ryphon.  I pray that the remainder of your days will be happy and long."  I turned back to face the oncoming army of darkness, not able to meet his gaze now.

"...b-but Pheonyx..."

"Take good care of Aralia, as I know you will, and the twins, as well."

"Pheonyx--"

"--but whatever happens, stay here."

"I'm not just going to--!"

"You must.  ...fare well, my friend."  I did not glance behind me at my companion.  I could not.  All I could do was run and pretend there was no liquid forming in my eyes and that I couldn't hear the shouts behind me.

"Pheonyx!!!"

I put on an extra burst of speed, soon shooting off into the No Man's Land of the battlefield, directly charging the head of the slowly advancing army of black, hearing the wind rushing past my ears and the sound of my boots chaffing the dust beneath my feet as I ran on.  Sweeping my hands out, I latched onto Threads as I ran, grabbing each and every Thread I could get my fingers around and carrying them with me as I ran, accumulating a large amount that stretched as I continued across the seemingly endless expanse of dust and dirt.  I savored the almost physical feel of the Threads along my fingers, as well as the sights and smells around me, and the way my muscles felt under this strain of a full-on sprint for this long.

Soon, I could plainly see the glowing eyes of those in the army advancing towards me, their gaze trained upon me, and soon I felt arrows whizzing past me, some taking a bit of fabric or hair as souvenirs as I narrowly avoided being hit.  I chiseled the feel of pain into my memory as one arrow swiped across my arm, and watched with satisfaction as the crimson blood of a human flowed from my wound.

I neared the army of blackness, now close enough to pick out individuals in the sea of dark colors, and finally took a flying leap into the air, aided in my jump by the Threads I had gathered.  Sweeping upward in a spiral motion, I drew the Threads with me and about me, quickly weaving and intertwining them about myself, a small shield coming with it, deflecting several arrows and sending them hurtling back towards those who had sent them flying.

And as I hovered there, my fingers paused in their actions for just a moment as my eyes took in the scene behind me.  There were so many of my comrades, so many people that I had come to care for and love.  I could see their looks of wonder and horror, and the fear in their eyes.  This fear almost caused me to hesitate...but I also saw many other things.  Youth, potential, promise, hope, love, and most of all...destiny.  And at that moment, I knew without a doubt that I had met mine.

Tears filled my eyes in that last moment, and an overwhelming rush of emotion hit me as I turned to face my fate.

"Pheonyx!!  Pheonyx!!"

"...I felt it.  I finally felt it.  Thank you."

With a sharp jerk, I yanked on every Thread suspending, protecting, and surrounding me, urging them into the unnatural reaction of being thrust together while fusing a strong sense of direction into them, though I was unable to manage much control.  This triggered an immense burst of explosions, rocketing out along the Threads themselves, blossoming out from my position, towards the oncoming army of black, blasting through the ranks in straight and jagged and criss-crossing patterns.

I could feel my body, the body I had worked so hard and for so long to obtain, burning with a searing pain, causing a loud cry to rip itself from my throat.

The intense light began to overtake me, then engulfed me.  Bright, white light was all I remembered before only darkness remained.

Whispers

"Give me an ale."

The voice was gruff and annoyed, much like the tall man's countenance.  The Captain of the Jonsac guard and army plopped unceremoniously down onto a barstool, leaning heavily onto the counter, and slipping the uncomfortable helmet off of his head.  He shook out his shaggy black hair, running a hand through it once before his bowed head remained so, staring down at the grubby bar beneath his elbows.

While this was supposedly his day off, the Captain had apprehended four criminals, stopped a tavern raid a few streets over, and still discussed politics with the royal steward.  While he normally might be back at the castle, having a well-earned nap, or another training session in the quarry...the discussion of politics had considerably darkened his evening.  While Jonsac was usually a fairly peaceful country, rumors of war and invasions had been picked up and come to his attention.  He knew that the country just south of them would love to be able to get their hands on Jonsac's resources, while the country just to the west had never cared for their royal line, no matter who had been on the throne.

Both of these possibilities had weighed heavily on his mind for quite some time, and he had done his duty of protecting the King of Jonsac, even stopping one failed assassination attempt, though they hadn't been able to figure out where the perpetrator had come from before he had committed suicide in his prison cell.  This was the news that drove him back to the palace, even though he knew that his King would have berated him for being there, and it was now one of the several reasons that had driven him to this filthy place, where he normally would not be seen.

They had also received word today that there had been an attack by demons in the south eastern corner of the country, and while the Captain sorely wished he could personally go and help, his most important duty remained at the palace: the King.  His main goal, despite any and all other titles he held, was to protect the King, no matter what.

Tonight, however, he had been ordered to take a day for himself, and thus, the King was surrounded by at least three more guards than usual.  This, however, failed to ease his mind, but made him a bit more on edge.  He knew for fact that the King would probably punish him for coming back because of a worried mind when he was supposed to be relaxing, and it was one of the few but convincing things keeping him from returning to the palace.

And with the recent news of the attempted assassin killing himself in his cell, the Captain had found himself needing a way to just forget about all of it, if only for a few hours.  He knew very well that there was a distinct reason that he didn't often drink alcohol; he could barely hold one pint without slurring slightly and swaggering.  But he knew the barkeep on a personal basis, and knew that he wouldn't let anything happen, and they were in a fairly well-kempt part of the city to boot.  This, however, did not stop the raised eyebrow the burly man behind the counter gave him.

"Ale?  Y'sure 'bout that, Cap'n?"

"Yes, I'm sure.  Just a pint.  ...maybe two."

Often times, when he felt this similar burning need for drink, he would convince a companion to come with him, but as the steward was busy dealing with the after-effects of the prisoner's suicide, his usual drinking buddy was out of town, along with most of his other usual companions, and the King... well, besides being the King, he didn't exactly know who he was.  And he planned to keep it that way as long as he could.

"Y'know," the barkeep said as he slid a brimming mug towards the man at least forty years his junior, "it don' bode well when th' city's Cap'n is out to get hisself drunk.  'Less you got lady problems, but I know yeh better'n that."

The Captain let out a snort, taking a sip of the foul-tasting concoction.  "Yeah...I just need to forget for a while..."

"A'ight, but I 'aint takin' yeh home, yeh realize..."

"I know.  I'll be able to get myself back."

"If yeh insist..."  He shook his head, going back to cleaning glasses and dealing business with other patrons.

The Captain steadily felt his thoughts and worries slip away as the alcohol swiftly took effect.  Soon he had gotten through three pints, and was beginning to slow, knowing in the back of his dulled mind that he probably shouldn't drink too much more.  He mulled over the feeling of dullness the alcohol imbued in him, rather unable to wrap his mind around several things, and somewhere in his mind relishing in it.  It was not without consequence, however, as his head sat plopped on his arms, his stomach churning against the unwelcome guest of ale.

He didn't know how much time passed before he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Such a young man to be drowning sorrows he shouldn't already have in drink."

The Captain blearily opened his eyes, trying to focus on the source of the sound.  "...go 'way..." he muttered, but with less force than he might have liked.

"Aw, don't worry, I won't bite."  The source of the silky female voice got a bit closer to him, then he numbly felt her sit beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.  "What's on your mind, handsome?"

"...nothin', 'till you came over..." he muttered irritably, his words slurring.

"It's all right, I understand.  You want to forget."

The Captain found himself nodding into his arms.

"Forgetting is tough, that's for sure.  Especially when your problems just won't go away."

He nodded again, his mind barely able to register her words.  Then he suddenly felt her hand slide from his shoulder to his back, and warmth pressed against him.

"I know a few ways of... forgetting."  He dumbly felt her fingers brush lightly against his cheek, and turned his unfocused eyes over to her, unable to pick out many features other than her light-colored hair and dark clothes.

"...mm... no thanks..." he muttered, part of his mind frantically trying to regain itself, but to no avail.

"Are you sure?" she asked, molding herself against him, sliding up onto his lap a small bit.  "Believe me, they're much more effective than alcohol."

He stiffened only slightly under the warmth and weight of her body, a much smaller degree than if he had been sober.  "No..." he muttered a bit more firmly, however.  "...not in'tressed..."

A soft giggle sounded much closer to him than he thought she had been, and he again felt her fingers brush his face, soon sliding down his neck, stopping at the collar of his tunic.  " 'Intressed' isn't a word, honey."

Frowning, he tried to plead his case.  "Is too... I said... I'm not in'tres'ed.  Means... go 'way..."

Hot, gentle breath that sent a shiver up his spine blew against his ear and neck.  "...but you are so lonely... let me keep you company..."

"...don'... ...need comp'ny..."

"...no...?"

"...don'... wan' it..."

"...no...?"

"......no..."  His addled mind seemed to fight with this question.  "...well... not... not..."

"...it's all right.  C'mon, dear, you're wasted.  You should leave before you find yourself drinking again."  She slid off him, and he could feel her pulling on his arm, urging him to get up.

"...yeah..." he murmured, slowly standing, and even then, nearly toppling over a moment later.  He felt the woman catch him, slinging one of his arms over her shoulder.  "...d-damn... ...shouldn've... so much..."

"C'mon," the woman said, leading him towards where he believed the door was.  He could feel his legs moving beneath him, though the steps were unstable and odd distances between each other.  After an amount of time, he suddenly could feel a chilly wind brushing past, and could just hear a few other voices talking from what sounded like a great distance away.

"...gotta... get home..." he muttered, his body automatically trying to drag itself in what he thought was the direction the palace was in.  Feeling no resistance, he continued trudging along for some time, the woman beside him silent as she helped him along through the darkened streets, occasionally pausing as his stomach would rebel and regurgitate some of the evening's efforts.

Soon, his head was pounding, his eyelids felt heavy, and he wasn't even sure his body was still moving.  He heard the woman's voice again, sounding near his left ear.

"...we're going to get you inside... c'mon, honey."

He suddenly felt her force on him, leading him towards a tall, darkened building, looking very much like all the others.  Before he knew it, she had led him into a small room containing little more than one bed and one window.  She eased him down onto the bed, and he was grateful enough not to question the lumpy mattress, laying out on it with a sigh.  Warm fingers brushed their way across his cheeks, and more weight eased down onto the straw mattress.

"...how are you feeling?..." he heard the woman ask him.

"......"  He tried to respond, though whatever sound came out of his mouth was neither very intelligible nor audible.  She put a finger to his lips, easing them closed.

"Shhh... it's all right.  It's all right."

His garbled vision caught her moving towards him, and in a slight rush, he felt her lips meet his.  He found himself paralyzed, but as she gently kissed him, he somehow began to relax, his dulled body seeming to begin to move of its own accord.  She slid up against him, still keeping her lips locked with his, soon molding her body atop his, the hand not resting on his cheek sliding down his chest to where his tunic was tucked into his belt, her fingers finding their way between the fabric to brush the skin of his stomach and side.

He felt his arms moving, sliding around her waist and feeling his fingers brush her warm, exposed skin where her shirt did not completely meet her pants.  Soon, her legs intertwined with his, and he felt her fingers exploring his chest beneath his tunic, his arms wrapping about her competitively smaller form to hold her tightly against him.

Thought gave way almost completely to instinct, and he was soon lost amidst her warmth and dulled sensations, which gradually eased him into darkness.

Well, here I am!

Here I am, on Livejournal! Why? you might ask. Well, the truth is... I got bored. Immensely so. So here I am! And I can post my feelings to the WORLD! DAhahahahaha! Now, whether they read them or not is still in the air. But, whatever. It does feel good to rant, even when no one's listening.
Can I just say though, that I am SO SICK of looking up the same thing!! I've been researching this same poem for WEEKS and I still don't feel as though I know all that much about it. Though I am currently in the process of writing it, so it'll all be gone in a little while, it still is frustrating.
Wow! My first complaint! That won't be a first, guarantee it. I'm a rather whiney person. *shrugs* Whatever. Anywho, I'd better get back to that essay. This will not be the last you hear of me.
*evile laughter*

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