03-04-2017, 10:46 PM
Assault... Rifle...
It certainly had a "gun-like" sound to its name. He wished he had come up with it for his revolver, curse the blasted thing, instead of just slapping the size of the bullet and the revolving cylinder of the gun and calling it a day. ".480 Revolver" definitely didn't have the same ring to it that "Assault Rifle" or "Automatic Carbine" did.
The real question, however, was how did they come up with it? Names all had a purpose. Parents are wise beings, at least back home. Some storytellers even believed that they had the ability to see into the future, and based the names of their children off of what they see. It was a load of bullshit, but even he couldn't deny that many parents did name their kids that way, or at the very least tried to. He didn't know why he was called Ballad, or why Timber was called Timber, but he could certainly understand why Blizzard was named Blizzard. Anyone named after any word related to snow always seemed to go the route of someone who was far too dangerous for any community to hold. Which begged the question as to why any loving parent would name their kids after snow-related words in the first place. Either they were sick in the head or else had a sense of humor he couldn't entirely understand.
He forced himself to look away from the "gun" in her hand and swallowed back the wish to take it from her. How could the thing even function? It didn't have a hammer to pull back or a revolving cylinder to load the gun with, so how could it fire any bullets? Did it even fire bullets? Perhaps it fired nothing at all, and was merely a weapon meant for show. Then again, the lady took it seriously, so why shouldn't he?
Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments.
Blood rushed through his veins.
A marching drum beat within his torso, pumping adrenaline through his body. Smoke billowed out of his sleeves.
He slapped his forehead, covering up a gash as it formed on his face. He snapped his eyes shut, letting out a loud growl as his entire head felt like it had split into two. It took every ounce of his willpower not to fall onto his knees. He inhaled the smoke, fueling the fire within his body.
What is happening to me? Stop! STOP!
And, as quickly as it had started, the smoke dissipated into thin air. The wounds on his body scarred before disappearing entirely, leaving no trace of their presence. He gasped for breath, opening his eyes. She was still standing there, but her eyes were widened and her irises shrunken. He didn't know if she had gone through a similar process that he had, or if she was reacting to the sudden, smoky display of anguish that he gone through just moments prior.
“Do I...Do I know you?” She had asked. The gun in her hand looked a lot more sinister all of a sudden. He searched his mind for any trace of her, yet he found nothing. It didn't make any sense. He did not know her, and had no reason to know her, so why did he nearly explode and transform into... something else from merely looking at her? She looked so.... familiar, though... was it the hair? He might have seen hair like that before. Who was it? It was no one back home. Everyone back home had green skin, which she clearly did not. Who WAS she?!
"I..." he said, wiping his forehead to remove the sweat forming on it, "I don't know. I wish I could say I knew you, but I do not."
It certainly had a "gun-like" sound to its name. He wished he had come up with it for his revolver, curse the blasted thing, instead of just slapping the size of the bullet and the revolving cylinder of the gun and calling it a day. ".480 Revolver" definitely didn't have the same ring to it that "Assault Rifle" or "Automatic Carbine" did.
The real question, however, was how did they come up with it? Names all had a purpose. Parents are wise beings, at least back home. Some storytellers even believed that they had the ability to see into the future, and based the names of their children off of what they see. It was a load of bullshit, but even he couldn't deny that many parents did name their kids that way, or at the very least tried to. He didn't know why he was called Ballad, or why Timber was called Timber, but he could certainly understand why Blizzard was named Blizzard. Anyone named after any word related to snow always seemed to go the route of someone who was far too dangerous for any community to hold. Which begged the question as to why any loving parent would name their kids after snow-related words in the first place. Either they were sick in the head or else had a sense of humor he couldn't entirely understand.
He forced himself to look away from the "gun" in her hand and swallowed back the wish to take it from her. How could the thing even function? It didn't have a hammer to pull back or a revolving cylinder to load the gun with, so how could it fire any bullets? Did it even fire bullets? Perhaps it fired nothing at all, and was merely a weapon meant for show. Then again, the lady took it seriously, so why shouldn't he?
Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments.
Blood rushed through his veins.
A marching drum beat within his torso, pumping adrenaline through his body. Smoke billowed out of his sleeves.
He slapped his forehead, covering up a gash as it formed on his face. He snapped his eyes shut, letting out a loud growl as his entire head felt like it had split into two. It took every ounce of his willpower not to fall onto his knees. He inhaled the smoke, fueling the fire within his body.
What is happening to me? Stop! STOP!
And, as quickly as it had started, the smoke dissipated into thin air. The wounds on his body scarred before disappearing entirely, leaving no trace of their presence. He gasped for breath, opening his eyes. She was still standing there, but her eyes were widened and her irises shrunken. He didn't know if she had gone through a similar process that he had, or if she was reacting to the sudden, smoky display of anguish that he gone through just moments prior.
“Do I...Do I know you?” She had asked. The gun in her hand looked a lot more sinister all of a sudden. He searched his mind for any trace of her, yet he found nothing. It didn't make any sense. He did not know her, and had no reason to know her, so why did he nearly explode and transform into... something else from merely looking at her? She looked so.... familiar, though... was it the hair? He might have seen hair like that before. Who was it? It was no one back home. Everyone back home had green skin, which she clearly did not. Who WAS she?!
"I..." he said, wiping his forehead to remove the sweat forming on it, "I don't know. I wish I could say I knew you, but I do not."
C&C Thread
New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
[img=0x0]http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IhRRgzveDCY/VAgWGBxd5zI/AAAAAAAAA1c/WyYgTmN0cLQ/s1600/1.jpg[/img]
New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
[img=0x0]http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IhRRgzveDCY/VAgWGBxd5zI/AAAAAAAAA1c/WyYgTmN0cLQ/s1600/1.jpg[/img]