Blood Between Your Knuckles | Cass [Blitz]

[Tattletale]

.// learna antiopa libertine

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The Training Center was no place for me.

From the stripped walls to the marble floor, every surface of the building was scrubbed clean and free of grime. All traces of imperfection has been washed away, and so goes the human marks. Ever since I entered those double doors, a waft of a certain antiseptic smell ― like the ones in the finer hospitals ― rode right up my nose and attacked my lungs, knocking the air right out of them.

Seven little birds told me that places of battle, may it be for preparation or to the death, were never good areas to stumble into. But they were sparrows, while a lovebird cooed to me honeyed words of how the scarlet of her feathers were slowly fading away, how she missed to feel the droplets of blood― Her feathers were the kind of time-worn bright that you knew used to be so vibrant and eye-catching, while now life seemed to seep out ever so slowly. The bird was so beautiful, with her plume and songs, and sparrows were ugly anyway. It seemed like a good decision back then, when I was the wind and the souls were the birds, and they had to please and persuade me to 'please, Learna, blow this way and that, for I missed the warmth of this land,' but right now, with one hand on the wall to steady myself and a foolish attempt to sputter the offending smell (and in just a couple of steps from the entrance? Oh, you sweet, pathetic―), it was a bad decision altogether. Bad, very bad. Perhaps I should carry honey or corks inside my pockets and stick them inside my ears whenever I hear Lovebird's enchanting hymn, but then I realised there was no use when the song was inside me.

And further I went, passing the hallways and trailing my fingers on the cold wall. Artifical light bounced off the chrome platings, and I was reminded of how desaturated and flat everything was in this place of lone punching bags and silver weapons that glinted off in the distant station. My flame hair, the sound of my unsure footings paddering off in the hallway, it was unmistakably odd in where everything's precise and coordinated.

But I was too quick to judge.

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I went inside a room, and heard the only other sound of a blade slicing a fabric open repeatedly. It was none other than my tower of a brother, Kraken, who found pleasure in either making a dictatorial state whenever the pawn shop was placed in his responsibility for the day, or in getting quite too uncomfortable with a few girls. His eyes always followed their figure, usually in a hurry to get away from my brother's slimy hands, and I never understood the reason. But sooner, I found my eyes following each swift move that he makes, it gives the dummy one more fatal wound, and I had no doubt that it wouldn't have been anymore different than if it was a real, breathing person. There was unison in his limbs, and I was magnetized.

"Teach me how to fight."

I need no introduction; he'd know his sister.[/color] His young, brash, irrational little sister.[/justify][/color][/blockquote]

OOC -- [ Blitz thread, and this is kind of a blast-to-the-past plot idea No time to make a graphic lol ]

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[cass]

kraken libertine.

This is not the end
Lived unbruised, we are friends
And I'm sorry
I'm sorry
Sigh no more, no more

It was always the same. The rhythm that came as my blade struck the dummy, biting deep into the cheap cotton fabric that laced it. The fabric was no longer whole; it was ripped and tattered, hanging messily over the body of the dummy. It was as if it was human, wearing the clothes we wore, carrying the same face stricture, body structure and appearance, but it was not the same. They held no fight like humans; they did not have the eyes, the feelings the emotions that a human held. When he gazed into its button eyes he saw nothing, but holes (But of course he would see this, they were buttons). He could not imagine them real, seeing the fear, the pain and the worry that would stain another human’s eye as you hit them the way he hit this dummy.

The dummy in all beliefs was dead. There was no way that any human could survive the deep gashes and wounds that littered its fake body. He eyed the dummy his face expressionless, his eyes boring into it, as if it might spring to life at any moment and leap forwards at him, striking him and cutting him like he had done to it so many times. But of course it did not, after all it was not real.

With a sharp sigh he stepped back, his feet moving soundlessly along the ground. The room was empty, every soul that had been in their having been scared away by Kraken. He was not one to want to share rooms and training equipment with anyone. The silence fell heavily like a blanket, it pressed itself onto him. He glared at the dummy and suddenly he was seeing a real human, a boy his age staring at him. His eyes were so sad, scared and frightened. Pain flickered across his face and the boy opened his mouth briefly to speak, but instead of words there was only blood and suddenly it was flowing from his nose and his eyes. A gasp escaped Krakens lips and without thinking he lunged forward, the sword connecting with the dummy –with the boy, and he was gone. But Kraken couldn’t stop, he just kept hitting and hitting the dummy, feeling it tear beneath his blade where nothing could stop him, where the eyes of the dead could not see him, where he could kill his nightmares.

”Teach me how to fight.”

The words slice the air. Kraken freezes, the blade thudding into the dummy, easily slicing its head off from its shoulders. Slowly he turns and faces Learna, his young little sister. Her small frame seemed so tiny and pathetic and the words that had just shot from her mouth held so much more than what she looked to be capable of. He rolled his eyes. She really had no hope of learning how to fight, there wasn’t much there and yet her comment had not been a question. The fact that she had almost commanded him to do this made him prickle with anger. But it was also that confidence that made him nod his head ever so slightly.

”Catch.” The words left his lips as he threw the head of the dummy at his sister.

Of course he would teach her how to fight.

One foot in sea and one on shore
My heart was never pure
And you know me
You know me
Sigh no more, no more

[Tattletale]

.// learna antiopa libertine

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I expected him to scoff. Or ignore me. Or brush me away with a single impatient wave of his hand and off I’ll go. The souls expected him to do the same thing, too. They had seen his lips curling and his fist drew back, ready to meet Kipling’s tight jaw when Kraken asked him 'where the hell was that jewelry box you just cleaned?' And with my eyes as their windows, they see poor Kipling trembling in the corner. One. Two. Only one more and— a white figure comes in, ethereal and disgustingly beautiful and I just wish she would stop looking so innocent all the time. Who else? Ursula. The savoir, the one who comes in in all the perfect times. He was brash and impatient and was unpredictable — much like the rest of us. Much like the ocean.

“Catch.”

The ocean was calm today (and perhaps only today), the waves not much but dancing ripples and the wind was steady. As much as I loved and was terrified of the raging sea storm that just draws me in, I embraced the tranquility along with disaster, and along that my eyes went wide and I hastily rushed to catch this — what on Four is even this? It was plain, carved with barely enough features to distinguish it from the monsters that haunt us when dusk comes. It was a human head, a dummy’s head: soulless. I struggled to smile, and it came although slathered in confusion.

“What’s next?”

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OOC -- [ Graphic courtesy of Cass <33 ]

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[cass]

It just takes a second for my world to come crumbling down
Oh I'm sure in the distance you can hear that awful sound
Oh I plead for an answer, plead for an answer from you
But if you give me an answer, that just makes no sense then whats the use
And just like that my life is broken

When the ocean is calm most believe that is the time in which it is safest to travel. So many tumble into the crystalline sea, seeking for their treasure, their boats gliding like a phantom over the open waters, small tides rippling beneath the hull as the wind whistles. As the sails capture nature and it throws it forwards. In those times, when the see is at its calmest is when the Kraken strikes. Its long tentacles latch onto a boat, for there is no breeze, there is no wave, no person, animal or beast that can beat the kraken. Its strength is almighty in comparison to a ship. There it hugs the ship, it grips it with such power that the boat creaks and groans, it cries to be released, but that only urges the Kraken forth. The sea ripples beneath the boat as the Kraken yanks it was a large pull and the boat tears in half with a CRACK that every person from miles away can hear. The sound echoes through the land like the song of the dying, and the men fall into the water like tears of sorrow as the boat cries.

Then it dies. The ocean swallows it all up and within moments the horrified screams, the agonised cries, the cracking, the crying and the yelling is silenced, and the ocean turns back to normal.

I expected her to say more than that, than just two simple words, ”what’s next,”

[/i] and it reminds me of the calm before the storm hits. The way everything goes silent, with only the dull, but quite sound of the wind. Than it hits full force, smashing everything in its path and the once dull quite sound is like that of a roaring tiger. I reply with a simple shrug of my shoulders, my muscles ripple under my too small shirt. I take her in with a small crooked smile, my brown eyes lingering on the dummies head. Now as I gazed down at it, it looked nothing as it had a mere few seconds ago – when I had seen it as a boy’s face, to now as I truly see it: a dummy.[/i][/color]

”You tell me what you want to learn. Pick.”

With a wide sweeping gesture of my hand I indicate the room; weapons lay littered everywhere, from broadswords, to the smaller and finer dagger. There was every weapon. Everything you needed to kill a person. The Kraken needed no weapon, all it needed was the calm ocean, the peace before the storm and all hell would break loose. Right now it was the calm before the storm hit, but in this storm there was two fighters.[/blockquote][/justify][/size]

I can barely breathe
and now I'm opened for suggestions
At the end of the day life's a lesson
So why can't he see it form my point of view
And how many seconds in the hours of a day did we lose