06-14-2017, 08:10 PM
It was itchy and cold, weighing his illusions of freedom down. That thing on his wrist. He wished he’d had a pair of plyers to help peel off this technological shackle. Last time it had been around his neck. And it wasn’t the first time he’d been trapped in a game of chance and chase. Both of his arms were contaminated by metal now, and it was leaving Gildarts in kind of a dismal mood.
The Prime looked up, only to see the growth of an embankment of fog, and some buildings. It looked mostly abandoned though. The stories were only a couple high, there were hospitals his tired legs passed as he walked along the asphalt street. The auburn-haired prime took a few glances around, as though expecting to see a friendly face to wave hello to. But this world seemed not for the living.
Among the clammy fog were dark shrouds of form that cast between windows, as though a city of ghosts were watching him. Gildarts, cursed with withdrawals from the kiss of the Malefactor could not tell if they were real or not. He hadn’t seen a face, and if they were real people, or phantoms of those once living, they had left Gildarts alone to wander through, allowing him safe passage.
They’re real Gildarts… And they’re coming for you… The Malefactor’s voice lingered with the hum of a song.
“No, they’re not,” Gildarts denied her the power over him.
My, you’re burning up, take a seat, you must have a fever… she insisted and pinged a nearing bench to what had once been a bus stop on the side of the road.
The Prime’s weakened eyes sought the bench out, then deliberated. The back of his hand swept over the lines on his forehead, creased by age and doubt, and sure enough, a dewy sweat had accumulated. He was burning up, but it had to be this place… The fog… The plants had caused his allergies to react, that had to be all, didn’t it?
The Prime looked up, only to see the growth of an embankment of fog, and some buildings. It looked mostly abandoned though. The stories were only a couple high, there were hospitals his tired legs passed as he walked along the asphalt street. The auburn-haired prime took a few glances around, as though expecting to see a friendly face to wave hello to. But this world seemed not for the living.
Among the clammy fog were dark shrouds of form that cast between windows, as though a city of ghosts were watching him. Gildarts, cursed with withdrawals from the kiss of the Malefactor could not tell if they were real or not. He hadn’t seen a face, and if they were real people, or phantoms of those once living, they had left Gildarts alone to wander through, allowing him safe passage.
They’re real Gildarts… And they’re coming for you… The Malefactor’s voice lingered with the hum of a song.
“No, they’re not,” Gildarts denied her the power over him.
My, you’re burning up, take a seat, you must have a fever… she insisted and pinged a nearing bench to what had once been a bus stop on the side of the road.
The Prime’s weakened eyes sought the bench out, then deliberated. The back of his hand swept over the lines on his forehead, creased by age and doubt, and sure enough, a dewy sweat had accumulated. He was burning up, but it had to be this place… The fog… The plants had caused his allergies to react, that had to be all, didn’t it?
Quote:C4 to C16
![[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