angels and demons [marshall/kirito] (Arrows)
May 8, 2016 21:09:31 GMT -5
Post by esther kim d3 {lance} on May 8, 2016 21:09:31 GMT -5
Marshall Dunn
The ocean was supposed to be a force of good, an ally to the people of Four, a calming, peaceful symbol.
It was not supposed to overflow its boundaries, lashing out with unrestrained rage and power, destroying anything and everything in its path.
Marshall was well acquainted with the water. He had grown up alongside it, and had thought he had known it well. On its good days, it was peaceful, docile, a sheet of glittering glass stretching out as far as the eye could see. On the bad days, it was a churning maelstrom of fury, unleashing waves that battered the beaches and winds that shook the buildings of the district.
But no matter how hard it had raged, it had always stayed within its boundaries, as if Earth and Water had an agreement to not trespass on the other's territory.
But today, Water had decided that such agreement was null and void, and had surged forward with the subtlety of a beached whale.
Marshall had been nowhere near the water on that particular day. He had been walking down a street near the District Square, en route to a friend's house to hang out after a long day on the sea.
What he had not expected was that the sea would follow him inland, catching him by surprise and sweeping him away.
One moment, he had been minding his own business, walking down the street. The next, he was caught in a torrent of water, struggling to break free and wondering why the hell was the ocean in the middle of town.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up on a soaked street, building remnants scattered about. His entire body ached, but nothing appeared to be broken.
He made to sit up, but failed. Consciousness was already slipping, and as his eyes closed once again, he faintly registered the salty tang of blood.
When he next opened his eyes, his vision was blurred. Voices spoke around him, but they were muted, distant. Figures darted in and out of view, and Marshall had the faint sense that he was floating.
Is this...am I dead? he thought, but even that took a supreme effort.
A face appears out of his peripheral, making its way to the center of Marshall's vision. Its expression and even physical features were blurred. The blond boy blinked, once, twice, thrice, and slowly the face grew into sharper focus.
He blinked one more time, mouth slightly agape, as he took in the beauty of the face staring down upon him.
Is that...an angel?
narrative, says, thinks.
The ocean was supposed to be a force of good, an ally to the people of Four, a calming, peaceful symbol.
It was not supposed to overflow its boundaries, lashing out with unrestrained rage and power, destroying anything and everything in its path.
Marshall was well acquainted with the water. He had grown up alongside it, and had thought he had known it well. On its good days, it was peaceful, docile, a sheet of glittering glass stretching out as far as the eye could see. On the bad days, it was a churning maelstrom of fury, unleashing waves that battered the beaches and winds that shook the buildings of the district.
But no matter how hard it had raged, it had always stayed within its boundaries, as if Earth and Water had an agreement to not trespass on the other's territory.
But today, Water had decided that such agreement was null and void, and had surged forward with the subtlety of a beached whale.
Marshall had been nowhere near the water on that particular day. He had been walking down a street near the District Square, en route to a friend's house to hang out after a long day on the sea.
What he had not expected was that the sea would follow him inland, catching him by surprise and sweeping him away.
One moment, he had been minding his own business, walking down the street. The next, he was caught in a torrent of water, struggling to break free and wondering why the hell was the ocean in the middle of town.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up on a soaked street, building remnants scattered about. His entire body ached, but nothing appeared to be broken.
He made to sit up, but failed. Consciousness was already slipping, and as his eyes closed once again, he faintly registered the salty tang of blood.
When he next opened his eyes, his vision was blurred. Voices spoke around him, but they were muted, distant. Figures darted in and out of view, and Marshall had the faint sense that he was floating.
Is this...am I dead? he thought, but even that took a supreme effort.
A face appears out of his peripheral, making its way to the center of Marshall's vision. Its expression and even physical features were blurred. The blond boy blinked, once, twice, thrice, and slowly the face grew into sharper focus.
He blinked one more time, mouth slightly agape, as he took in the beauty of the face staring down upon him.
Is that...an angel?
