[5-10] Flights of Fancy (Christa and Red)

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

“Nanaki.”

The feline’s eyes opened slowly at first, blinking away fatigue as light filtered through. Above him loomed the silhouette of a much larger beast, his stout and sturdy frame blocking out the harsh sunlight. The speaker looked down upon him with quiet patience, age etched into his strong features. Though the long years had worn on his countenance, the muscle beneath his carmine coat remained as robust as that of someone half his age. The face was unmistakable: his father, Seto of the Cosmo tribe.

“Up,” the solemn creature commanded, stepping away from the lethargic beast. In his absence the light returned unimpeded, assaulting Nanaki’s eyes without concern.

He blinked hard, unable to process what was before his eyes. Death had robbed him of his father’s warmth years ago, and yet here he stood. “Why?” Red heard himself reply, his voice quite young and uncertain. The words were his, though he was not the one who spoke.  

“You’re late,” came the reply, the speaker not deigning to look upon Nanaki as he spoke. He strode a few feet farther, before take a seat gracefully on the edge of the stone bluff upon which they stood. “You’re expected at today’s ceremony.”

The crimson feline attempted to stand, though he could scarcely move at all. His limbs felt leaded, anchoring him to his spot just a few feet from his beloved father. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as a dull ache crept up the back of his neck. Nanaki strained, pleading wordlessly with his own anatomy, though it was no use. He wanted to run to the elder, so rush to him and lay his head upon his side as he had so often done in his youth. He wanted to cry out, though no words came. The cub instead gave no response at first, feeling himself turning away from the elder. “I’m not going,” his words finally came, slightly slurred and drawn out.

“Very well,” his senior responded. His coat seemed to darken now, appearing ashen and lifeless. Seto was motionless, slumped, staring out over the cliff’s edge. In the blink of an eye the sun had vanished, darkness blanketing the the bluff. The only light came from a sliver of bone-white moon that hung overhead.

“F-father,” Nanaki finally spoke in his own voice. He fought against his burdened body, lacerations and punctures now opening afresh upon his previously youthful skin. Blood dribbled from the new wounds, dyeing the muddy stone a dark crimson. His glance slid lazily to his legs, the dark ink of his tattoos etching themselves into his flesh as he spoke. “Fa-ther…”

The seated senior feline snapped to rapt attention, sitting bolt upright as the words left the wounded beast’s lips. In one fluid motion his head spun upon its axis, locking eyes with his son. Nanaki felt the remainder of his strength leave him as empty sockets stared back at him, inky blood dribbling afresh from the voids as his father’s once noble face shifted to the gristly image of a corpse, rife with rot. The gruesome elder lowered his head, exposing twin rows of broken, uneven teeth, wrought with the same decay. Thick gobs of bloody saliva dripped from his maw as his lips curled into a sneer, a growl escaping his decrepit throat.

“Fa…”

His voice failed him. Terror, pain, and fatigue in equal amounts smothered his words, leaving him dumbfounded and shaken upon the cliff. Before he could steel himself to struggle through another word, the macabre creature leapt from its seat, releasing a fiendish shriek. Then, it was upon him.

---

The pungent smell of ash and smoke stung in Nanaki’s nostrils, tears streaming from his eyes as he coughed chunks of caked soot from his throat. The strong taste of iron lingered on his tongue, mixing with cinders as he opened his good eye, staring up at a the trio of hands supporting his body. He lay inside the borders of some kind of roughspun cloth, being used to drag his limp form across the rocky, uneven ground of the forest. Christa and a newcomer, his gaunt face entirely foreign to Nanaki, stood side-by-side, scooting him over tree roots and rocky soil with all of the speed they could muster, which was not much. The Prime was in no position to complain, however, despite the extremely rough ride.

“Red,” Christa grunted as he awoke, straining to keep hold of the tarp containing his weight as they moved him slowly away from the inferno approaching from the rear of the encampment. Despite the strain on her, a hint of a smile was present.

“Let...let me off,” the fiery feline commanded weakly. Any measure of bravado he had displayed quickly vanished as he rolled himself onto the ground, only to immediately vomit. The vision of the bone-chilling creature from his nightmare still hung before his eyes. Nanaki coughed bile and ash from his airway for a few seconds before weakly getting to his feet, bleary eyes peering over at the veritable wall of fire at the village’s edge. He staggered where he stood, unable to find his balance.

“Don’t push yourself,” Christa said, a measure of kindness present on her normally stern face. The temperature was rising as the fire climbed around them, threatening to box the trio in. Though she meant well, he didn’t plan to stay put for long.

“I’ll be fine,” Red assured her as pain racked his body. His joints felt stiff, causing him to sway and stagger as he attempted to move himself. This only added to his already nigh-overwhelming nausea. Whatever the case, he had to move.

“Okay,” the third member spoke up. “Well, follow me then.”