10-05-2013, 10:18 PM
A passing dream?
It certainly felt that way; each time Kairi shut her eyes, she wondered if she would not hear the crashing of waves, or, the cawing of the many birds as they dipped down among the water for their lunches. However, it never happened. Those Islands that she gave name to, were just as long-gone as the rest of reality was from, well, whatever this place contained.
A vastness of nothingness that led to great arching doorways in the far, far off span.
In a way, his (terry’s) silence had been a reply. The mask that hid his face, at least to her, now, spoke for a solemn finality: there is no going back. The thought rested in the back of her mind, with that name, Omni. The masked crusader could remember, but, she could not – like grasping at straws the links in her memories fell and were carried off by the winds.
Stolen.
She waited as long as she dared in the White. Her foot that had been tucked behind the other swept to the front, and, she shifted sideways. Inhaling deep she sighed, stretched her arms above her head and stepped forward. The footfall a lighted touch upon . . . (the ground), patted, and, with a brief and hesitant longing,
Kairi looked back at Batman, deciding that like he, she needed answers - reassurance of some kind.
Despite what she did or did not remember, the fountain where troops gathered with their leaders in toe, flowed on and spread consistently outwards. At first, she made no indication of which side of things – Bradley or Thrall – her steps would carry her unto. However, as the distance closed in and as her focus narrowed, her feet guided her closer and closer towards the War chief, until the point where she was only several meters away.
Strangely enough, out of the two, what some would consider a monster, was less intimidating than the man with one-eye-patched, and, his soldiers of the White, supporting him as he sat upon a great throne; not humble in the least at any rate. They practically matched the nothingness, and each bore weaponry of the likes that she had never seen before. And, they didn’t feel right, but, she couldn’t put to words if they felt wrong like everything else about the Nexus did . . . if they should not be at all.
Thrall on the other hand, sat quaintly and his eyes swam with something she may have once recognized in the boy with no name: honor.
Even as she approached them, it would be clear that her resistance to this new world, was barely kept in check. Her eyes peered from one group to the other, upon the fountain, and, past them all into the great White again. The last of her cautious movements still left her meters away, and, she positioned herself in a rather . . . feminine, almost, timid posture. Yet, when she did meet his eyes, her own, a spiraling cascade of blue, with ever the slightest amounts of droplets lingering, as though they were ready to form tears, but, had not quite yet done so, blinked, shutting off to the world for just a few moments.
One hand slipped behind her back and gripped the opposite, stroking and rubbing it nervously, as, a foot tucked itself behind the other, and, her upper body swayed briefly, back and forth. Without rhythmic variation, for a few seconds she only looked, her lips parted but unable to find the words she needed.
Remember what he said . . . Kairi wanted to look back to see if the Hero had advanced as well, but, resisted the urge. She needed to appear confident, or, at least somewhat competent as someone summoned here. However, she was still at a loss to those memories, and, she could place little emphasis on why – out of all persons in the many worlds – she was chosen. . . . the light I carry? She mused, wondering, but, as her eyes opened again, she knew if she stayed silent any longer . . . actions, or, words would be done and said for her.
"Would you,” she looked up at Thrall tilted her head to the side, and, parted a few scarlet locks with a hand, “tell me why I am here?” It would be rather obvious given her attire, that she was no warrior, or, even a person whom expected combat; no weapons, no sense of ill intent, and, perhaps the most odd, a good portion of herself was shielded . . . by some force . . . a magic perhaps, but, regardless: the girl whom could not remember, appeared, pure.
It certainly felt that way; each time Kairi shut her eyes, she wondered if she would not hear the crashing of waves, or, the cawing of the many birds as they dipped down among the water for their lunches. However, it never happened. Those Islands that she gave name to, were just as long-gone as the rest of reality was from, well, whatever this place contained.
A vastness of nothingness that led to great arching doorways in the far, far off span.
In a way, his (terry’s) silence had been a reply. The mask that hid his face, at least to her, now, spoke for a solemn finality: there is no going back. The thought rested in the back of her mind, with that name, Omni. The masked crusader could remember, but, she could not – like grasping at straws the links in her memories fell and were carried off by the winds.
Stolen.
She waited as long as she dared in the White. Her foot that had been tucked behind the other swept to the front, and, she shifted sideways. Inhaling deep she sighed, stretched her arms above her head and stepped forward. The footfall a lighted touch upon . . . (the ground), patted, and, with a brief and hesitant longing,
Kairi looked back at Batman, deciding that like he, she needed answers - reassurance of some kind.
Despite what she did or did not remember, the fountain where troops gathered with their leaders in toe, flowed on and spread consistently outwards. At first, she made no indication of which side of things – Bradley or Thrall – her steps would carry her unto. However, as the distance closed in and as her focus narrowed, her feet guided her closer and closer towards the War chief, until the point where she was only several meters away.
Strangely enough, out of the two, what some would consider a monster, was less intimidating than the man with one-eye-patched, and, his soldiers of the White, supporting him as he sat upon a great throne; not humble in the least at any rate. They practically matched the nothingness, and each bore weaponry of the likes that she had never seen before. And, they didn’t feel right, but, she couldn’t put to words if they felt wrong like everything else about the Nexus did . . . if they should not be at all.
Thrall on the other hand, sat quaintly and his eyes swam with something she may have once recognized in the boy with no name: honor.
Even as she approached them, it would be clear that her resistance to this new world, was barely kept in check. Her eyes peered from one group to the other, upon the fountain, and, past them all into the great White again. The last of her cautious movements still left her meters away, and, she positioned herself in a rather . . . feminine, almost, timid posture. Yet, when she did meet his eyes, her own, a spiraling cascade of blue, with ever the slightest amounts of droplets lingering, as though they were ready to form tears, but, had not quite yet done so, blinked, shutting off to the world for just a few moments.
One hand slipped behind her back and gripped the opposite, stroking and rubbing it nervously, as, a foot tucked itself behind the other, and, her upper body swayed briefly, back and forth. Without rhythmic variation, for a few seconds she only looked, her lips parted but unable to find the words she needed.
Remember what he said . . . Kairi wanted to look back to see if the Hero had advanced as well, but, resisted the urge. She needed to appear confident, or, at least somewhat competent as someone summoned here. However, she was still at a loss to those memories, and, she could place little emphasis on why – out of all persons in the many worlds – she was chosen. . . . the light I carry? She mused, wondering, but, as her eyes opened again, she knew if she stayed silent any longer . . . actions, or, words would be done and said for her.
"Would you,” she looked up at Thrall tilted her head to the side, and, parted a few scarlet locks with a hand, “tell me why I am here?” It would be rather obvious given her attire, that she was no warrior, or, even a person whom expected combat; no weapons, no sense of ill intent, and, perhaps the most odd, a good portion of herself was shielded . . . by some force . . . a magic perhaps, but, regardless: the girl whom could not remember, appeared, pure.
![[Image: SarahKerrigan_sig199_zpswcfeq7fe.png]](http://i936.photobucket.com/albums/ad202/missfinefeather/SarahKerrigan_sig199_zpswcfeq7fe.png)