05-05-2016, 11:22 AM
A tremendous roar erupted from the clouds above him, and loomed over him with the chilling feeling of an imminent and certain doom. Gildarts felt his lungs increasingly desperate, it felt like a mix between suffocation and drowning.
A face in the shape of a skull flashed with the strike of lightning. It was a woman, ruthless, powerful, her eyes black and enflamed with nothing but rage. Suddenly the face changed, it was Nealaphh, his opponent from the battle he could barely remember. A sickness clutched his stomach like nothing else as the two eyes of green bore down on him -he had stolen the third- and the face of shadows hovered without form, until it dissipated with the squawking of a crow, or perhaps it was a raven...
A flapping of sleek black wings flickered in the half light and a stream of images coursed through the Prime’s mind like the gushing of water during a great flood. Lucid, vivid, rapid, and all delivered with a force that could not be stopped.
Now, a dragon’s shape conquered the sky. Colossal in size, but also in its girth any onlooker could see the immense power gushing forth from each one of its shimmering scales. The underbelly of the beast was black, and through the upswept dust and broken limbs of a night-kissed forest could Gildarts see that the great monster was due to land on top of him. But now, he could not move. His limbs -the ones that still had blood pumping through them- would not move. As though they had been ensnared by vine and clutched steady by thorn, Gildarts was pinned in his exact location, the dragon’s daunting silhouette descended from above, the chill of its shadow could be felt chilling the mage’s very skeleton.
Help! he thought with the utmost futility as he realized his fate would soon be, quite literally, upon him.
From below, Gildarts, the strongest Prime, looked up at the dragon’s black underbelly and could only grasp at straws, for his body would not move to his will. The dragon now, turned its head down at him, to look, and its face was sliced in half.
One half, being Acnologia, the dragon of his nightmares, the dragon that delivered only death to the world of Earthland. His home.
The other, the creature he knew as Volvagia, one who lived at the top of Death Mountain, and stirred inside only when sleeping... A slumber Gildarts had dared to stir in his waking moments. Volvagia was not a dragon he had had to fight alone, and it dwelled where he knew his body to currently be located, where ever his mind was, he was in the Omniverse. With some reluctance, Gildarts concluded that the Omniverse too, was his home.
A malevolent WHOOSH! of air caused his hair to streak across his face in tiny, wind-whipped little strands. Gildarts was forced to press his eyes shut, and when he did, the dream suddenly blossomed with colorful life. Faces of friends and enemies flashed before him with light, but each with a smile touched with warmth.
It was as though he was looking across an uncut field in the summer, cicadas chirping, a backdrop of trees in the distance, and nothing above him but stars. Then, fireflies emerged, trusting that their own light and the beams from their friends would be enough to guide them on their way. The stars had descended from the sky, and dwelled in little twinkling beauties just above the chutes of hay and unweeded grass. A scent tickled his nose, one that could only have been the smell of his old guild, Fairytail.
Flashes of their faces came to him now, boldly streaking across the starry sky, Master, Natsu, Cana, her mother, and they slowly changed from the friends of Earthland to those of the Omniverse, Ambrosia, and those he had met along the way. A fresh fire smoldered within him, one of hope, one he recognized was ignited every time he battled. The fire had a shape, and it smoldered blue on the symbol over his heart.
Cana’s face flashed before his eyes, and then Molly’s. Perhaps it was because a piece of Gildarts’ heart was missing. The Ambrosian’s cute dress fluttered in the wind, she was holding out a hand to Gildarts, over the ten year old’s shoulder, sung a thousand glittering fireflies. Unshed tears glittered in Gildarts’ eyes, for when he took the young girl’s hand, who beckoned him closer, with an unspoken promise to relieve the old man of his duties, the moment his organic hand was less than a hair’s length away, Gildarts opened his eyes to the black reality that was Death Mountain. The smoke filled his nostrils once more, and Gildarts blinked away the dream, though it was unknown if he was still blinking because of the smoke in his eyes, or because the peace of home had been so close to his heart, yet still so unattainable.
A face in the shape of a skull flashed with the strike of lightning. It was a woman, ruthless, powerful, her eyes black and enflamed with nothing but rage. Suddenly the face changed, it was Nealaphh, his opponent from the battle he could barely remember. A sickness clutched his stomach like nothing else as the two eyes of green bore down on him -he had stolen the third- and the face of shadows hovered without form, until it dissipated with the squawking of a crow, or perhaps it was a raven...
A flapping of sleek black wings flickered in the half light and a stream of images coursed through the Prime’s mind like the gushing of water during a great flood. Lucid, vivid, rapid, and all delivered with a force that could not be stopped.
Now, a dragon’s shape conquered the sky. Colossal in size, but also in its girth any onlooker could see the immense power gushing forth from each one of its shimmering scales. The underbelly of the beast was black, and through the upswept dust and broken limbs of a night-kissed forest could Gildarts see that the great monster was due to land on top of him. But now, he could not move. His limbs -the ones that still had blood pumping through them- would not move. As though they had been ensnared by vine and clutched steady by thorn, Gildarts was pinned in his exact location, the dragon’s daunting silhouette descended from above, the chill of its shadow could be felt chilling the mage’s very skeleton.
Help! he thought with the utmost futility as he realized his fate would soon be, quite literally, upon him.
From below, Gildarts, the strongest Prime, looked up at the dragon’s black underbelly and could only grasp at straws, for his body would not move to his will. The dragon now, turned its head down at him, to look, and its face was sliced in half.
One half, being Acnologia, the dragon of his nightmares, the dragon that delivered only death to the world of Earthland. His home.
The other, the creature he knew as Volvagia, one who lived at the top of Death Mountain, and stirred inside only when sleeping... A slumber Gildarts had dared to stir in his waking moments. Volvagia was not a dragon he had had to fight alone, and it dwelled where he knew his body to currently be located, where ever his mind was, he was in the Omniverse. With some reluctance, Gildarts concluded that the Omniverse too, was his home.
A malevolent WHOOSH! of air caused his hair to streak across his face in tiny, wind-whipped little strands. Gildarts was forced to press his eyes shut, and when he did, the dream suddenly blossomed with colorful life. Faces of friends and enemies flashed before him with light, but each with a smile touched with warmth.
It was as though he was looking across an uncut field in the summer, cicadas chirping, a backdrop of trees in the distance, and nothing above him but stars. Then, fireflies emerged, trusting that their own light and the beams from their friends would be enough to guide them on their way. The stars had descended from the sky, and dwelled in little twinkling beauties just above the chutes of hay and unweeded grass. A scent tickled his nose, one that could only have been the smell of his old guild, Fairytail.
Flashes of their faces came to him now, boldly streaking across the starry sky, Master, Natsu, Cana, her mother, and they slowly changed from the friends of Earthland to those of the Omniverse, Ambrosia, and those he had met along the way. A fresh fire smoldered within him, one of hope, one he recognized was ignited every time he battled. The fire had a shape, and it smoldered blue on the symbol over his heart.
Cana’s face flashed before his eyes, and then Molly’s. Perhaps it was because a piece of Gildarts’ heart was missing. The Ambrosian’s cute dress fluttered in the wind, she was holding out a hand to Gildarts, over the ten year old’s shoulder, sung a thousand glittering fireflies. Unshed tears glittered in Gildarts’ eyes, for when he took the young girl’s hand, who beckoned him closer, with an unspoken promise to relieve the old man of his duties, the moment his organic hand was less than a hair’s length away, Gildarts opened his eyes to the black reality that was Death Mountain. The smoke filled his nostrils once more, and Gildarts blinked away the dream, though it was unknown if he was still blinking because of the smoke in his eyes, or because the peace of home had been so close to his heart, yet still so unattainable.
![[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