[identity profile] purplerhino.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] crossing_lostrp
Who: Oona
When: Day 28, near midnight
Where: Bunker
Invited: Methos
Status: Incomplete

Oona somehow knew she was dreaming.  She faced an oval mirror rimmed in gold with intricate carvings of dragons embracing the glass.  But the surface was not reflective.  She moved to stare into the glass and faced not herself, but a man with nothing but blackness behind him.

 

He looked back at her.  He, too, was albino.  He was not so much handsome as beautiful, pretty even, but both sad and hardened all at once. His face was longer, more angular than hers, with high and prominent cheekbones and almond shaped eyes slanted up.  The deep red of his eyes were haunted.  His long white hair moved as if he were in a strong breeze.  He was tall and almost painfully thin.  He was not human, though he resembled one.  She felt the kinship between them as if it were a physical link.  This was her father.  She somehow just knew it. At his hip was a huge, black sword that seemed alive with malevolence and she instantly both feared and loathed the thing.  No, not a thing, it was a demon.  A powerful one at that, bound to the form of a sword.  The man held out his hand and pressed it to the glass.  On his finger was the same ring she wore, the gem holding the shifting darkness within.

 

Oona mirrored the gesture.

 

His long, pale fingers grasped hers through the glass.  She was not afraid.  Even as he pulled her through, into the blackness.  .

 

The hand holding hers was gone and she was alone in the black.

 

The darkness disappeared in a blaze of fire, the silence ripped apart by screams of fear and pain.

 

She was standing on a road in the middle of a city.  A city in flames.  Human men dressed in blood and armor coursed through the street, slaughtering as they went.  The street was wet with blood. 

 

Slender, elfin looking men with elegant armor and sweeping swords fought the humans, and fell.  The human’s killed children, women, human slaves.  They rarely seemed to care for anything other than killing, except to take jewels and gold, from homes and bodies.

 

She saw him then.  His white hair stained with splatters of blood.  That foul sword in his hand as he cut through any who came at him.  Slender though he was he wielded the huge monstrosity with one hand, as if it weighed nothing.  But he was not fighting the crudely armored humans.  He was leading them.  He was killing his own people.

 

“Blood and souls! Blood and souls for my lord Arioch!”  He screamed above the fray, his red eyes taking an unholy joy in the slaughter. 

 

And she could feel it, see it.  His sword wasn’t just killing, it was devouring the souls of those it cut down, sucking them away, destroying them, and feeding some of the energy back into her father.  Making him stronger, faster, a whirling flurry of death.

 

The city disappeared and she stood on top of a sand dune looking down on a small group of tents, people running and screaming as four men on horseback galloped through, cutting down the people, setting fire to the tents.  There was the same fierce joy there as her father had shown.  One of the four’s horse reared up and he turned.  His long hair was wild and appeared either caked and dry from the sand and desert, or a really bad wig.  Half of his face was covered with woad.  But the desert was no place for a Pict or Celt.  His green eyes met hers across the sand blasted distance.

 

He was suddenly replaced by a giant head of lettuce.  It developed a face.  “Ware the farmer.  You prosper for his snares.”  Oona stood hands on hips.  “I didn’t know salad could talk.”


 

Part One... Part two in next post

[Methos]

Date: 2007-05-18 04:57 am (UTC)
ext_26142: (Methos Too Old by beccadg)
From: [identity profile] beccadg.livejournal.com
(OOC: Sorry for being so slow. I've been under the weather. The man eating carrots are definitely an obvious dream element. *g*)

Adam tossed restlessly in his sleep. It wasn't that he couldn't fall asleep. That would've been more peaceful. It was the dreams he was having. Adam road on a pale horse as if he was born to ride. He chased down men, women and children with equal joy listening to their screams of fear and pain. The feeling of dark joy sang in him and appalled him all at once. As the feeling of horror grew in Adam the horse beneath him seemed to feel it and reared. He clung to it glancing around wishing to escape. His eyes caught sight of a woman who had no place under the desert's hot sun. Her skin was the white of a true albino. Before Adam could wonder at the sight he was suddenly tossed from his horse, falling and falling to where?

The question had an answer when he landed with a thump in a library chair. Adam looked about. While the joy he'd felt in the desert had been dark and fierce the one that filled him slowly as he drew books from their shelves and built a pile of tomes near the chair was so light it made his steps light. Once Adam felt he had all he needed to research... something... he sat down to begin taking notes from the pile of tomes. Somehow he'd taken no notice of how the books all seemed to have eyes before they began to watch someone other than him. The albino, they watched her as she walked closer to Adam. He spoke before he looked directly at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up a little. If she responded he didn't hear it.

The roar of the bonfire and the screams of the burning books drowned out any words. Some of the passion Adam had felt riding down all before him stirred in him, but this time it had a focus. Before it had been an unfocused hungry thing. Now it wanted those who would burn the books. First his eyes found the flags with their swastikas, but then they saw the Nazi soldiers. In that moment it occurred to him he should have his sword in his hands. Between his glancing down to his sword and up again the bonfire of books had become a pair of large smoke belching stacks. Adam raised his sword defensively, recognizing the smell of cooked meat from the stacks. Movement to his side drew his attention. Adam found the albion standing there.

This time when she spoke he heard her. Somehow her mention of a demon bound to a stone and man eating carrots meant little to Adam. What mattered was that she needed to get into the death camp. He wanted to get into it and tear it down. Adam nodded to her, "We have to get in there. The question is how are we going to get in there and stop the man eating carrots?"

Re: [Oona]

Date: 2007-05-21 08:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] starborn-scribe.livejournal.com
Shall we play name the refrences?

Love it! *bounces*

[Methos]

Date: 2007-06-19 05:04 am (UTC)
ext_26142: (Methos Too Old by beccadg)
From: [identity profile] beccadg.livejournal.com
(Started this after all my apologizing and got sidetracked by RL. *Facepalm.* Originally my brain locked up at the Monty Python. Here goes...)

Adam heard the old man's question, but it felt out of sync. He couldn't say for certain if it felt out of sync with him, or the world. When the non-human albino stepped forward out of the space they'd stood in together, Adam had his answer. He stumbled back, watching the other cut down the old man with a huge black sword that seemed to flicker with black flames.

As the armored man turned to look at them Adam's eyes were caught by the ruby red of the other man's eyes. He took no notice of how the camp around them turned to blackness. It didn't matter next to the odd feeling of kinship he had meeting those alien eyes. Adam couldn't say where the feeling came from, but he knew it ran deeper than armor or swords.

Oona spoke a name, "Elric," and for all the feeling of kinship it struck no cord in Adam. He watched how she returned to normal speaking to the man she called father -- watched too how the huge black sword disappeared. Adam didn't follow Elric's explanation of what he was, his attention on the great wound that seemed to appear right through the man's heart then fade.

Elric's words once he and Oona were looking at him -- the words, "You cannot ever take back the past, the wrongs done," those struck a cord. They rang through Adam and he found a name he'd lost, his own "Methos." Somewhere in the weight of the words as they struck him was the link, the connection he felt with Elric. There was something very similar in their pasts.

Methos listened passively while the man he shared a common tragedy with spoke to his daughter of how she should've been a princess. He didn't flinch when Elric's eyes returned to him, hearing out his words. Methos smiled thinly as the other spoke of their similarities. He nodded with Elric's insistence he must keep Oona from the sword, not even sure why.

The smile on Methos face widened at the mention of the temptation being hard to resist a response to the words resting on his tongue. Quietly he heard out the rest of Elric's words before he told him with a grin, "I'm tougher than I look." While Methos said it easily enough, there was a trace of uncertainty in him. What would the sword feel like in his hands?

He watched Elric turn eyes full of pain and regret to his daughter, listening to him speak to her about him -- about something she could do for him if she chose to. Methos frowned slightly, the words "fate is double edge" stabbing at him. He reflexively reached out to catch the item Elric tossed to him. Methos didn't truly see it until he was holding it.

The platinum charm on it's necklace of the same metal felt good in his hand. Methos looked at it curiously, not certain what to make of it being a set of balanced scales. His head came up from his examination of the charm at Elric's words. Methos opened his mouth to protest, and found himself waking up before the words could pass his lips. Or he seemed to be awake.

Methos felt the very solid presence of the charm still in his hand. He looked down at it not sure what to do next. Find Oona? Hide the charm somewhere? Oddest to him was a feeling he should put it on. It had come to Methos by magic -- likely was some manner of magic itself, Methos couldn't know what would happen if he put it on yet the feeling he should remained.

Uncertain about the charm he decided he should find Oona. Methos slid the charm into a pocket, resisting the urge to put on, and went in search of her.

[Methos]

Date: 2007-06-25 07:09 pm (UTC)
ext_26142: (Methos by beccadg)
From: [identity profile] beccadg.livejournal.com
Err, that would be EXIT METHOS. He's gone over to this thread (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/143475.html).

OOC

Date: 2007-05-21 08:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] starborn-scribe.livejournal.com
Nicely done! *applauds*

Damn those man-eating carrots!

Date: 2007-05-21 08:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] starborn-scribe.livejournal.com
He was suddenly replaced by a giant head of lettuce. ... “I didn’t know salad could talk.”

ROTFLMAO!

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