Chime

[Roger Smith]

Several hours had passed since his departure from the clustering place of his arrival. Though he had been entirely loath to let the vampire escape alive, the point of the situation had been drilled home all too clearly. He was forced to admit it, as poor a taste as it left in his mouth to do so. There was every chance this was beyond his reckoning, some force at work here beyond his understanding. Some rule at play that would call to an authority that would supercede that which her served. How such a thing could be, how any force could ever claim with certainty and truth that they held a greater ruling than the Almighty, was beyond him.

...then, how he could be here at all, seemingly alive and well, after he had all too clearly died for good in his struggle against the monster who had rejected God was also beyond him.

It was not a crisis of understanding that would break him. No, his convictions were far too strong for that. He would leave the actions of dispensing holy vengeance and justice aside, for now. He would turn his mind instead to understanding. Sink deep into the rivers of thought, and drown in his efforts to come to the truth, or successfully navigate the turbulent rapids and reach a conclusion. Take the truth of the matter in hand, and discover the reasoning for his presence here. There could be no doubt, in some fashion, that this was His will; the LORD had a purpose for him here.

It only waited for him to stumble across it.

And stumble, he did, though not across purpose. Over empty air, shimmering with color and distortion, shifting and wavering scenery and air. White gave way to a swirling cacophony of rainbow hues. Sparks and swirls of meaningless color assaulted his vision. A sudden shifting in the feel of the air and sound of the world assailed his skin and hearing. He pitched forward, staggering like a drunkard. His grace was broken, his balance thrown off.

The swirl of offending sensation broke in only a moment.

The chaotic mess of colors gave way to a gentle green, grasses rolling and swaying. The air overhead settled into a pattern, a gentle breeze ruffling his sunny blonde hair, still matted with dust and ash from his arrival. The non-scent of the white void was replaced with an overwhelming, in comparison, smell of earth and stone, grass and trees, and the distant, pungent tinge of smoke on the wind.