The Forsaken (Solo)

by **Nashira** on December 11th, 2011, 10:20 pm

Winter 5, 511 AV

Nashira stood atop a rounded hill. The green grass that lined it tinted a beige as it began the slow and painful process of dying in the winter's chill. It crunched beneath her boots whenever she stepped; scattered the frost, which the night had brought. She was thankful then, that she had no need to step much, for the crunching gave her away, and she wished to remain lost in the dead of night. In the dark blanket it cast upon the world. Of course, that would be nearly impossible to do, with how her green eyes glimmered. With the way the moon's milky sheen bathed her, causing her caramel-colored skin to appear somewhat ghastly, and her long brown hair to seem as though it were both salt and pepper.

The Ethaefal stood, with her right foot planted firmly in front of the left. Her toes were pointed ahead of her, towards an unknown opponent. Her whole body was pointed in the same direction. It was the same with Caleb's sword, which she clutched tightly in each of her hands. Her fingers winding their way around the hilt. All of them, save for her thumbs, which were directed towards the blade itself. The silver which glowed ominously in the moonlight.

The sword was held directly in front of her. The tip directed towards the sky, held farther away than the hilt of the sword itself. Shira's muscles were tense about it. Her knuckles as white as the moon, as she forced herself to maintain her hold. As she swept the sword up, and then brought it back down, in one clean sweep, which seemed to hiss as it displaced the cool night air. When the sword had dipped past the woman's hip, she eased it back in the same direction it had come, before dragging it downwards in a diagonal line, towards her left side. Cutting down an imaginary foe; the air.

by **Nashira** on January 27th, 2012, 3:54 am

The Ethaefal took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, to help steady her chest, which was rising and falling all the more rapidly now that she was beginning to exert herself. Now that the cool winter air was beginning to cut into her lungs, causing her entire chest to feel tight, and sting. Thin wisps of silver smoke escaped her lips, her nostrils, as she slowly rose her sword towards her right shoulder, and then, cut it across her body, towards her left shoulder, in one smooth sweep.

The blade seemed to twist in the Ethaefal's hands as sweat grew beneath them, causing Nashira to lick her lips as she stepped forward with her right foot, and then swung her left forward, as she cut her sword downwards, and towards the right, as though finishing a fight with an ending blow.

Breathing all the more heavily, Nashira brought her sword back up, allowing it to rest towards her middle as she stepped forward again rapidly. As she glided across the terrain, she raised her sword high, bringing it over her head, before cutting it back down, towards her imaginary foe's shoulder. "In Syna's name, may this blade always strike true," Shira whispered, as her footing skid across the terrain, causing her to dig her heels in, to keep herself from sliding any further. She could hear the occasional small stone scurrying down the hill. Tumbling away as she finally caught herself, and silently walked back up the hill, to its peak.

This is far better than trying to fight the invisible on a slanted field, Shira thought, as she took up a fighting stance. Her feet both pointed in front of her, held about fourteen inches apart from each other. Her legs bent at the knees, to add a spring to her step. Her back held fairly straight, although she curled into herself a bit about her shoulders. Her sword held firmly in front of her, vertically, so that the metal sheen cut her dark silhouette in two.

"May the metal always meet its mark," Shira whispered, as she brought her right hand down, and her left up, effectively, turning her blade so that it cut at an angle. Slowly, lowering it until its point touched the ground, circling several larger blades of grass. Then, in one fluid movement, Caleb's old sword soared, cutting towards her right shoulder. The movement so quick, so precise, that the woman could hear the metal whistling. Feel the displacement of the air, as she cut it down.

Are you proud of me now Caleb? Nashira wondered, as she glanced up at the sky. If you're even watching... do you love me now?

by **Nashira** on January 30th, 2012, 1:18 am

Do I matter? Nashira wondered, as she slowly raised her sword again. Or is my heart to be left as empty as it was in life? As unfulfilled, for you never could see me as I looked at you. Never could see me even if we were the only two around for miles. The edges of the Ethaefal's face grew red as her brow furrowed. Despite the cold, she was beginning to feel warm. Even though her movements had slowed, and the way she lifted her sword was pitiful, she felt so very hot. As though she were standing in the middle of the desert in the finest fur coat. Shuddering, as she swept her sword down, the first of the Ethaefal's tears fell.

One from the left eye, which rested in her duct a time, before trickling down her face. A clear orb, which caused her caramel colored skin to glimmer in the moonlight all the more. The second fell from her right eye, and curled over the gentle slope of her cheek, towards her chin, where it dripped away into oblivion. Rapidly, as a sense of rage and urgency began to overtake her, Nashira forced her sword upwards, before raking it out to her right side. Stifling a gasp of fury as her tears started to stream down her face, clouding her vision.

Through the dancing cloud of moisture, Nashira swept her sword back in, as she stepped forward with one foot, and then the other, swinging her sword around with her body as she repeated the motion towards the edge of the hill's rise. In one direction, and then back in the other, growling in her rising pain. Her fingers slipping along the side of the cool hilt, as her tears doused them repeatedly. Why Caleb? Nashira asked. Why? Why couldn't you simply love me? Why couldn't you feel the magic? Sense it, and let it into your heart?

Inwardly, the Ethaefal screamed, as she tore her sword upwards, and then downwards to her right side. Her fingers tickling the length of Caleb's old sword. And if you couldn't love me then, in life, could you really love me now, in death? Nashira asked, as her fingers unraveled, and the sword slipped, toppling to the ground with a muffled metallic clang, just as her legs bent at the knees, and she too, cascaded into the cold earth. Her knees smacking the soft curve of the hill hard, sending sharp shooting pains up the length of her delicate form. Pain she could easily ignore, or perhaps overlook, given her inner turmoil. Her aching heart.

"Could you?" Nashira whispered through her tears as she closed her eyes and hung her head.

"Would you?"

by **Mirage** on February 7th, 2012, 5:58 am

The Truth Within the Reality

Nashira :

The Truth Hidden by a Mirage :