02-23-2016, 07:14 PM
Spiraling in the darkness were confused thoughts, pieces of an unfinished puzzle, trapped in a maze of time and infinite space.
His consciousness fought to stay afloat, but there was no light for him to grasp, no end of the tunnel, no trace of a hope for air and the Prime continued not just sinking, but drowning on the pain of his bleeding mortal body.
Molten iron stained his lips, which were creased with bright crimson blood, but had been dusted with a coating of sand. In fact, his whole body had been covered in a blanket of sand, which explained why none of his comrades were able to find him in the rubble of the busted-up city.
It was hard to say how long the injured prime had been there, enough time for him to recover from his wounds of defeat- but no, there was another piece of truth that flashed before his eyes while his shuddering breath stirred his muscles awake. The creature that had defeated the distraught prime had given him opportunity to live. Quite like healing, yet different. An ounce of strength, for Gildarts to survive.
The prime grimaced, and only his dark eyebrows crunched together could be seen under the folds of shifting sand. A ridged path had been made around his nose for his lungs to receive labored breath. Nothing else, not even the slight reshaping of sand with every inhale, had given his presence away in the ever shifting dunes.
Pain brought him back to the world of the living, it had lassoed its way into his consciousness and nagged him awake like an annoying chill.
From beneath the pile. His eyes burst open, suddenly, the old timer was aware of his body, and everything flooded back to him. His throat felt as though it was going to burst into flames. Days, perhaps even weeks, he had gone without water, and his intestines had surely been filled with sand. His need for water overruled all else, for pain, while it demanded to be felt, would not help him live.
The prime heaved his chest upright, which took a significant amount of effort, and a large boulder rolled off of him. He had been in the remains of a shattered home. Spit out by the unknown world he had condemned himself and his opponent to. But all reason and logic swept out the door, and his muscles wriggled and wobbled while his stomach and throat gripped and howled for water.
His ands went out, shuffling and searching in the abandoned tatters of the broken building, hoping for water to be delivered when suddenly his eyes snagged on some water in a half evaporated vase. The vase was clear and full of bright, beautiful flowers. Each thrived on the life that the water and sun gave to them, now, Gildarts needed this sustenance in order to live.
Before the dehydrated man was even aware, his hands were around the flower stems and they were thrown to the ground. The vase tilted toward the sky and his throat was filled with the taste of gross, old, and decaying water- but water, none the less.
It was by fool's luck that those flowers had remained intact, but now, Gildarts was drowsy, and his stomach hurtled as his tongue wretched at the taste of sour water invading his body. There was a sea of nausea in his stomach which was not quelled by the shower of the water and the Prime growled at his shortcomings. The vase was set aside. And the sand-covered, dirt-encrusted, half-starved prime finally found the strength to stand. His heels dug into the shifty ground and his knees heaved his torso upward.
Noble Gildarts stood tall, under all the dirt, his cape and shorts were in tatters, of the bandages on his torso there was nothing left but scars buried deep in his tan flesh. The Fairytail wizard grunted once more as he got his bearings in the desert, and then realized his body hadn't eaten for days, and a slick shade of black fell over his eyelids like a curtain, closing him off from the world once more.
The Prime's body fell back into a long sleep, much like hibernation while his muscles sought to store the last reserves of his strength...
-
"GAH!" Gildarts jolted awake with the taste of wet dog- or death, he couldn't tell which- sliming all over his tongue.
Sand was spat from his mouth and he licked his lips absently, but the flesh was sensitive enough that just by that motion, the course sand ripped slashes deep in the thin skin. The stubble of his beard poked holes through the sand he was still covered with, and his organic hand immediately met the stabbing pain in his forehead. His teeth clenched, grating more sand in his mouth than he would have liked to taste, but the bloody salt was a welcomed flavor after the taste of morgue in his mouth.
A grimace crept once more on his face, and glowing brightly in the moonlight were the luminous orbs of his dark eyes. He almost forgot where he was, but the sand made it a hard place to forget. The chill of night had crept into his bones. And the prime attempted to stand tall once more. He was still thirsty, but now, he gripped his abdomen as his stomach howled with pain.
Grr... As if my body aching from age wasn't had enough. On the brighter side of things, with his body in such rough shape, his magic was potentially weakened as well, which meant he probably couldn't do much damage to the already tattered town around him.
True, he had been battered, his bones shattered, and nearly abandoned to die, but all he really had the hankering for was a good sandwich. He wasn't hungry for revenge, or even a cure for whatever had caused his magic to go out of whack. Grrrroooowl his stomach roared like a mighty lion, Gildarts still lived up to his name.
The hunger of a man was enough to cause trepidation in anyone. After all, a man with a hunger for his ambition could easily make him into relentless monster. A wizard who was hungry was even worse. And a hungry Gildarts? Who to his knowledge had been left to die, might've been as bad as Diablo himself!
The Prime's eyes sharpened with savagely ferocious intent for anything to quench the pangs of hunger that scratched at his stomach like claws again a chalkboard. As Gildarts stood, heaps of sand toppled off him in the darkness, creating a cloud of fluffy dust at his feet.
"Oof!" A muffled voice could be heard from the Prime's feet and a pair of slowly blinking eyes looked up at him while the clutter of dirt sifted away.
Gildarts stood tall and intimidating, with the moon on his back, his eyes bore down into the ground, searching for what had made the sound, and his appearance was enough to send a fright into anyone, let alone a very tiny kitten.
Chunks of mocha and chocolate slowly broke through the cloud, and finally revealed the kitten, with what seemed to be wings on its back covered by a small and distinctive cape.
Beautiful eyes wobbled in the moonlight, with a hue that glistened in the pale shimmering of the night. Just when it appeared Gildarts may have been a monster, or a "Sand-man" his cheeks creased into a smile, and his stubble broke away come of the sand, revealing a bruised cheek and some broken skin. But it was the skin of a man. He was no monster, despite the now-melted ferocity in his eyes. His body ached and the metal creaked as he dipped down to pick up the kitten with one of his hands.
"Hey," his gruff voice barely managed, and cracked due to the sting of time and lack of water. "I am sorry, I didn't see you there." His eyes offered the cat an assuring gaze while he cradled her in his weakened and near limp arms.
He held her chin up with his silver hand and examined her for any wounds before asking with the mighty pride that always seemed to be a force that surrounded the wizard. Gildarts asked, "Who might you be?"
His consciousness fought to stay afloat, but there was no light for him to grasp, no end of the tunnel, no trace of a hope for air and the Prime continued not just sinking, but drowning on the pain of his bleeding mortal body.
Molten iron stained his lips, which were creased with bright crimson blood, but had been dusted with a coating of sand. In fact, his whole body had been covered in a blanket of sand, which explained why none of his comrades were able to find him in the rubble of the busted-up city.
It was hard to say how long the injured prime had been there, enough time for him to recover from his wounds of defeat- but no, there was another piece of truth that flashed before his eyes while his shuddering breath stirred his muscles awake. The creature that had defeated the distraught prime had given him opportunity to live. Quite like healing, yet different. An ounce of strength, for Gildarts to survive.
The prime grimaced, and only his dark eyebrows crunched together could be seen under the folds of shifting sand. A ridged path had been made around his nose for his lungs to receive labored breath. Nothing else, not even the slight reshaping of sand with every inhale, had given his presence away in the ever shifting dunes.
Pain brought him back to the world of the living, it had lassoed its way into his consciousness and nagged him awake like an annoying chill.
From beneath the pile. His eyes burst open, suddenly, the old timer was aware of his body, and everything flooded back to him. His throat felt as though it was going to burst into flames. Days, perhaps even weeks, he had gone without water, and his intestines had surely been filled with sand. His need for water overruled all else, for pain, while it demanded to be felt, would not help him live.
The prime heaved his chest upright, which took a significant amount of effort, and a large boulder rolled off of him. He had been in the remains of a shattered home. Spit out by the unknown world he had condemned himself and his opponent to. But all reason and logic swept out the door, and his muscles wriggled and wobbled while his stomach and throat gripped and howled for water.
His ands went out, shuffling and searching in the abandoned tatters of the broken building, hoping for water to be delivered when suddenly his eyes snagged on some water in a half evaporated vase. The vase was clear and full of bright, beautiful flowers. Each thrived on the life that the water and sun gave to them, now, Gildarts needed this sustenance in order to live.
Before the dehydrated man was even aware, his hands were around the flower stems and they were thrown to the ground. The vase tilted toward the sky and his throat was filled with the taste of gross, old, and decaying water- but water, none the less.
It was by fool's luck that those flowers had remained intact, but now, Gildarts was drowsy, and his stomach hurtled as his tongue wretched at the taste of sour water invading his body. There was a sea of nausea in his stomach which was not quelled by the shower of the water and the Prime growled at his shortcomings. The vase was set aside. And the sand-covered, dirt-encrusted, half-starved prime finally found the strength to stand. His heels dug into the shifty ground and his knees heaved his torso upward.
Noble Gildarts stood tall, under all the dirt, his cape and shorts were in tatters, of the bandages on his torso there was nothing left but scars buried deep in his tan flesh. The Fairytail wizard grunted once more as he got his bearings in the desert, and then realized his body hadn't eaten for days, and a slick shade of black fell over his eyelids like a curtain, closing him off from the world once more.
The Prime's body fell back into a long sleep, much like hibernation while his muscles sought to store the last reserves of his strength...
-
"GAH!" Gildarts jolted awake with the taste of wet dog- or death, he couldn't tell which- sliming all over his tongue.
Sand was spat from his mouth and he licked his lips absently, but the flesh was sensitive enough that just by that motion, the course sand ripped slashes deep in the thin skin. The stubble of his beard poked holes through the sand he was still covered with, and his organic hand immediately met the stabbing pain in his forehead. His teeth clenched, grating more sand in his mouth than he would have liked to taste, but the bloody salt was a welcomed flavor after the taste of morgue in his mouth.
A grimace crept once more on his face, and glowing brightly in the moonlight were the luminous orbs of his dark eyes. He almost forgot where he was, but the sand made it a hard place to forget. The chill of night had crept into his bones. And the prime attempted to stand tall once more. He was still thirsty, but now, he gripped his abdomen as his stomach howled with pain.
Grr... As if my body aching from age wasn't had enough. On the brighter side of things, with his body in such rough shape, his magic was potentially weakened as well, which meant he probably couldn't do much damage to the already tattered town around him.
True, he had been battered, his bones shattered, and nearly abandoned to die, but all he really had the hankering for was a good sandwich. He wasn't hungry for revenge, or even a cure for whatever had caused his magic to go out of whack. Grrrroooowl his stomach roared like a mighty lion, Gildarts still lived up to his name.
The hunger of a man was enough to cause trepidation in anyone. After all, a man with a hunger for his ambition could easily make him into relentless monster. A wizard who was hungry was even worse. And a hungry Gildarts? Who to his knowledge had been left to die, might've been as bad as Diablo himself!
The Prime's eyes sharpened with savagely ferocious intent for anything to quench the pangs of hunger that scratched at his stomach like claws again a chalkboard. As Gildarts stood, heaps of sand toppled off him in the darkness, creating a cloud of fluffy dust at his feet.
"Oof!" A muffled voice could be heard from the Prime's feet and a pair of slowly blinking eyes looked up at him while the clutter of dirt sifted away.
Gildarts stood tall and intimidating, with the moon on his back, his eyes bore down into the ground, searching for what had made the sound, and his appearance was enough to send a fright into anyone, let alone a very tiny kitten.
Chunks of mocha and chocolate slowly broke through the cloud, and finally revealed the kitten, with what seemed to be wings on its back covered by a small and distinctive cape.
Beautiful eyes wobbled in the moonlight, with a hue that glistened in the pale shimmering of the night. Just when it appeared Gildarts may have been a monster, or a "Sand-man" his cheeks creased into a smile, and his stubble broke away come of the sand, revealing a bruised cheek and some broken skin. But it was the skin of a man. He was no monster, despite the now-melted ferocity in his eyes. His body ached and the metal creaked as he dipped down to pick up the kitten with one of his hands.
"Hey," his gruff voice barely managed, and cracked due to the sting of time and lack of water. "I am sorry, I didn't see you there." His eyes offered the cat an assuring gaze while he cradled her in his weakened and near limp arms.
He held her chin up with his silver hand and examined her for any wounds before asking with the mighty pride that always seemed to be a force that surrounded the wizard. Gildarts asked, "Who might you be?"
![[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