03-06-2017, 10:34 PM
His entire stomach turned inside out, threatening to push up bits of bile up his throat as he walked through swirling portal and into the Fields. For a few moments, everything was blurry and his head was light-heated. He stumbled to the ground upon taking a few steps forward. He dug his hands into the snow, taking some deep breaths in order to chill his throbbing, burning throat. A short puff of smoke flew through his scarf and sucked into his mouth. It took every ounce of his willpower not to cough, else he wretch up the still digesting Blood Ice Berry water he had drank at the fountain earlier.
He brought a glove to his face, smashing a piece of snow against it. He could feel his burning cheeks begin to cool and the bile in his esophogus vanish. He let out a loud snort as the snow tickled his nose. He groaned, looking towards Dawn. Everything was still practically indescribable, or as indescribable as was possible for someone who had walked into a portal not expecting to gain some kind of sickness from it, but he did manage to focus on one particular characteristic of her appearance: her purple scarf. That pinpoint was enough to, at least for the moment, knock him out of his motion sickness.
He hadn't seen a purple scarf in a long time. Hell, he had only seen one once or twice in his lifetime. The color could only be found on the strands of leathery hair on the multi-colored manes of Lykers, where all scarves came from. They were feline in appearance, but held the strength of more than two of the green-haired mammoths that roamed the "Desert of Snow" and held more than four times that ferocity. Only him and a few others could match their prowess in battle; every other member of his species would be smashed to the ground if they fought a Lyker one on one. His ears were still ultra-sensitive to their roars; it sounded like a metal string of a stringed instrument, played at a high frequency as well as a low frequency, and then layered over itself to create a metallic and synthetic aberration of what a mammal was supposed to sound like.
He knew that Dawn was not from his universe, and thus what color her scarf was had no meaning or relevance, but he couldn't pull away from it. It was just such a rare sight to see that he wanted to savor it. Perhaps she wouldn't mind a trade?
She would.
Quiet, you... logic... spirit...?
The vigilante cursed, which Ballad responded to. He could properly see at this point, and so began to his ascent to a standing position. Snow fell from the sky at a moderate pace, but there wasn't enough to provide a true smokescreen for visibility. Squinting, he could discern faint traces of what appeared to be solitary trees and small inclines in the otherwise flat ground. Apart from that, however, he couldn't see anything else. The entire verse was barren.
It was oddly familiar...
“Hey, watch my six. I’m going to acquire some more weapons.”
He was just about what the hell her "six" was before she sprinted off behind a nearby boulder. Luckily, SPB chimed in, informing him that she essentially wanted him to protect her while she acquired her weapons. He was also about to ask how she was going to do that in the middle of an open field of snow when SPB answered his question pretty much as soon as he considered asking about it.
You are scarily fast at an-
Indeed I am. I give you my thanks for that observation.
Goddammit.
He took up a position a few feet or so away from the boulder, making sure to face away from it. The whole hour or so during his guarding period, he kept his ears focused so as to detect anything approaching. In the meanwhile, he amused himself by fiddling around with his revolver and scratching at the pound of wick he had in his pouch on his belt. He had to wonder how the girl managed to get, or perhaps make, guns as big and long and most likely efficient as the one's she had. He had sold them cheap in his home-world, but he had no reason to believe her home-world did the same. The method of constructing the guns also looked different. His revolver only had so much black metal on it before it just turned into a rudimentary wood and leather finish. Hers, on the other hand, were crafted by those who were perhaps not beyond his skill level, but very, very close. SPB had not answered these thoughts, so he could only assume he didn't know either.
His thumb flicked the hammer of his revolver again and again and again and again. He hoped Dawn was almost done with her summoning.
Sure enough, he heard her step around the boulder. He turned to face her.
His jaw promptly dropped to the fucking floor.
Exotic weapons lined her every form -what looked like one of her long automatic carbines was on her back, followed by what looked like one of his revolver prototypes was holstered near her side, and discolored orbs that could have been literally anything lined her waist as they hung from a belt-, and his eyes were bright enough that it could light up a whole cave. Holy fucking crap, how did HE not think of weapons like these? They made his revolver look like a goddamn joke! Hell, compared to them, it probably WAS.
He didn't even respond to Dawn's sentence until literally more than fifteen seconds later. He flinched, glancing back up to her face. She was smirking. He frowned at her.
"'Interest' is a very, very big understatement, miss Snow. A very, VERY big one." He almost dove to grab the one on her back, but held back. "I yearn to see them in action, goddammit! There's bound to be something worth hunting in these Fields. Something like a..."
A troll.
"A troll. Yeah, a troll."
He brought a glove to his face, smashing a piece of snow against it. He could feel his burning cheeks begin to cool and the bile in his esophogus vanish. He let out a loud snort as the snow tickled his nose. He groaned, looking towards Dawn. Everything was still practically indescribable, or as indescribable as was possible for someone who had walked into a portal not expecting to gain some kind of sickness from it, but he did manage to focus on one particular characteristic of her appearance: her purple scarf. That pinpoint was enough to, at least for the moment, knock him out of his motion sickness.
He hadn't seen a purple scarf in a long time. Hell, he had only seen one once or twice in his lifetime. The color could only be found on the strands of leathery hair on the multi-colored manes of Lykers, where all scarves came from. They were feline in appearance, but held the strength of more than two of the green-haired mammoths that roamed the "Desert of Snow" and held more than four times that ferocity. Only him and a few others could match their prowess in battle; every other member of his species would be smashed to the ground if they fought a Lyker one on one. His ears were still ultra-sensitive to their roars; it sounded like a metal string of a stringed instrument, played at a high frequency as well as a low frequency, and then layered over itself to create a metallic and synthetic aberration of what a mammal was supposed to sound like.
He knew that Dawn was not from his universe, and thus what color her scarf was had no meaning or relevance, but he couldn't pull away from it. It was just such a rare sight to see that he wanted to savor it. Perhaps she wouldn't mind a trade?
She would.
Quiet, you... logic... spirit...?
The vigilante cursed, which Ballad responded to. He could properly see at this point, and so began to his ascent to a standing position. Snow fell from the sky at a moderate pace, but there wasn't enough to provide a true smokescreen for visibility. Squinting, he could discern faint traces of what appeared to be solitary trees and small inclines in the otherwise flat ground. Apart from that, however, he couldn't see anything else. The entire verse was barren.
It was oddly familiar...
“Hey, watch my six. I’m going to acquire some more weapons.”
He was just about what the hell her "six" was before she sprinted off behind a nearby boulder. Luckily, SPB chimed in, informing him that she essentially wanted him to protect her while she acquired her weapons. He was also about to ask how she was going to do that in the middle of an open field of snow when SPB answered his question pretty much as soon as he considered asking about it.
You are scarily fast at an-
Indeed I am. I give you my thanks for that observation.
Goddammit.
He took up a position a few feet or so away from the boulder, making sure to face away from it. The whole hour or so during his guarding period, he kept his ears focused so as to detect anything approaching. In the meanwhile, he amused himself by fiddling around with his revolver and scratching at the pound of wick he had in his pouch on his belt. He had to wonder how the girl managed to get, or perhaps make, guns as big and long and most likely efficient as the one's she had. He had sold them cheap in his home-world, but he had no reason to believe her home-world did the same. The method of constructing the guns also looked different. His revolver only had so much black metal on it before it just turned into a rudimentary wood and leather finish. Hers, on the other hand, were crafted by those who were perhaps not beyond his skill level, but very, very close. SPB had not answered these thoughts, so he could only assume he didn't know either.
His thumb flicked the hammer of his revolver again and again and again and again. He hoped Dawn was almost done with her summoning.
Sure enough, he heard her step around the boulder. He turned to face her.
His jaw promptly dropped to the fucking floor.
Exotic weapons lined her every form -what looked like one of her long automatic carbines was on her back, followed by what looked like one of his revolver prototypes was holstered near her side, and discolored orbs that could have been literally anything lined her waist as they hung from a belt-, and his eyes were bright enough that it could light up a whole cave. Holy fucking crap, how did HE not think of weapons like these? They made his revolver look like a goddamn joke! Hell, compared to them, it probably WAS.
He didn't even respond to Dawn's sentence until literally more than fifteen seconds later. He flinched, glancing back up to her face. She was smirking. He frowned at her.
"'Interest' is a very, very big understatement, miss Snow. A very, VERY big one." He almost dove to grab the one on her back, but held back. "I yearn to see them in action, goddammit! There's bound to be something worth hunting in these Fields. Something like a..."
A troll.
"A troll. Yeah, a troll."
C&C Thread
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New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
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