11-23-2015, 11:04 PM
The blisters in his shoe formed with every chafing step. They were wet on his foot like sticky pads of moss and clung like slick grease, causing a slight, unnoticeable slip with every other step he took. But that was nothing compared to the agony stirring in his abdomen, which Gildarts clutched, crippled by the fresh wave of stunning pain. He had no idea what was happening, but this time it was in a different way than his characteristic oblivious style. This time, the world around him was spinning, the horizon where the sandy ground met the soft shade of blue, now became a blur of streaking sky.
His eyes amber eyes struggled to focus, yet everything still felt disturbingly obscure. The scene around him was hazy and no matter how hard the Prime tried, his vision would not adjust to the sun’s brazen light. He had no idea how long he had been walking, but even the most enormous amount of effort was brutal on his still-recovering body. Suddenly, the group he was moving with stopped and his sliding foot sought the firmness of rock but found only the wavering ocean of swaying sand. He nearly tripped, but Gildarts too found his place and paused with them, able only to see the smearing silhouettes of many buildings stooping from high above and casting cold shadows atop the sand.
His battle-ready instincts sparked and ignited on a daunting vibe. They were now facing a serious threat. A sense of fear strummed within Gildarts, not for himself, he never felt afraid to battle a worthy companion, but for those he agreed to battle with, and against. To battle in his state, surely it was suicide, or worse, complete and utter slaughter. Yet, his choices left few options, and the illness, whatever it was, savagely tore away at him from the inside out.
The distinguished pink-skinned man seemed to shout something, and a few others assembled around him. He could not see over their heads, What were the looking at? A monster? An adversary? Before he could assume an answer, Gildarts felt a swell of power choke his throat, followed by the destabilizing sense of fear that tingled in his fingertips and corroded the fleeting grip he had on his control.
The veteran chugged in a long breath, and felt for the small sphere in his pocket. He no longer remembered where he had acquired the strange tool, but he remembered why so very clearly. It was for the reason he was currently experiencing – the same one that left him feeling like he might explode at any point and held the same consequence should he lose it. The casualties.
Swarming around him were swishing mixtures of light and darkness. The distant whispers of action flowed like air and drifted with the dusted up clouds of sand. Someone nearby – possibly a peasant – cried out in fear. This was the dunes. This was war. While he could only make out blurry shapes, warped faces, and jagged smiles; Gildarts distinctly noticed the posture of one dark entity. He would have mistaken the figure for the deadly and immortal wizard, Zeref, had the hooded man not had three distinguishing green eyes, which glowed through Gildarts’ cloud of muddled perception.
The Prime’s eyes fixed like flint on the being, and it seemed like the magical entity was raising his arm up, as though to cast a spell on Gildarts’ closest comrade. Gildarts shoved the man into the friable ground, who responded in a gravely voice, “Grr,” before the Fairytail wizard hurled the ball from his hand at the assailant.
Following the sphere, was a whirling swirl of mist, which enveloped the two men. Before each of them had any idea what had happened, they both found themselves in a completely different world.
Striking Gildarts first, was the dank, musty scent that crept to his nose. Then came the shivering impact of stunning darkness from the void around him. Where was he? What happened to the others? Were thoughts that may have popped into the mage’s mind, had he any time to worry about such trivial things. He had only two challenges now, the rest had been eliminated.
One: The pain. Two: His enemy.
Maintaining control now, was not something that lingered on his mind.
His eyes amber eyes struggled to focus, yet everything still felt disturbingly obscure. The scene around him was hazy and no matter how hard the Prime tried, his vision would not adjust to the sun’s brazen light. He had no idea how long he had been walking, but even the most enormous amount of effort was brutal on his still-recovering body. Suddenly, the group he was moving with stopped and his sliding foot sought the firmness of rock but found only the wavering ocean of swaying sand. He nearly tripped, but Gildarts too found his place and paused with them, able only to see the smearing silhouettes of many buildings stooping from high above and casting cold shadows atop the sand.
His battle-ready instincts sparked and ignited on a daunting vibe. They were now facing a serious threat. A sense of fear strummed within Gildarts, not for himself, he never felt afraid to battle a worthy companion, but for those he agreed to battle with, and against. To battle in his state, surely it was suicide, or worse, complete and utter slaughter. Yet, his choices left few options, and the illness, whatever it was, savagely tore away at him from the inside out.
The distinguished pink-skinned man seemed to shout something, and a few others assembled around him. He could not see over their heads, What were the looking at? A monster? An adversary? Before he could assume an answer, Gildarts felt a swell of power choke his throat, followed by the destabilizing sense of fear that tingled in his fingertips and corroded the fleeting grip he had on his control.
The veteran chugged in a long breath, and felt for the small sphere in his pocket. He no longer remembered where he had acquired the strange tool, but he remembered why so very clearly. It was for the reason he was currently experiencing – the same one that left him feeling like he might explode at any point and held the same consequence should he lose it. The casualties.
Swarming around him were swishing mixtures of light and darkness. The distant whispers of action flowed like air and drifted with the dusted up clouds of sand. Someone nearby – possibly a peasant – cried out in fear. This was the dunes. This was war. While he could only make out blurry shapes, warped faces, and jagged smiles; Gildarts distinctly noticed the posture of one dark entity. He would have mistaken the figure for the deadly and immortal wizard, Zeref, had the hooded man not had three distinguishing green eyes, which glowed through Gildarts’ cloud of muddled perception.
The Prime’s eyes fixed like flint on the being, and it seemed like the magical entity was raising his arm up, as though to cast a spell on Gildarts’ closest comrade. Gildarts shoved the man into the friable ground, who responded in a gravely voice, “Grr,” before the Fairytail wizard hurled the ball from his hand at the assailant.
Following the sphere, was a whirling swirl of mist, which enveloped the two men. Before each of them had any idea what had happened, they both found themselves in a completely different world.
Striking Gildarts first, was the dank, musty scent that crept to his nose. Then came the shivering impact of stunning darkness from the void around him. Where was he? What happened to the others? Were thoughts that may have popped into the mage’s mind, had he any time to worry about such trivial things. He had only two challenges now, the rest had been eliminated.
One: The pain. Two: His enemy.
Maintaining control now, was not something that lingered on his mind.
Quote: I used my item: isolation verse.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus