The Dusty Days [Feye, Jack]

In the edge of the land of Rus, there lay a large mountain chain – one of the sides of which is considered fair ground for monsters, to leap and prey upon humans. Everyone knew – as soon as one crossed over to the particular side, he’d be surrendering himself to the hundreds of thousands of monsters that teemed over the rocky landscape. Today, though, it was strangely quiet; the many monsters, big and small, seemed to have gone into their burrows or hiding areas for the day. It may have been the ominous silence that settled over the place, that alerted the beings’ senses to flee.

It was in the center of this wide, dusty plain that a lone figure sat, accompanied by a much larger, hulking form. It was a girl, looking no older than nineteen, at most – teetering on the edge of twenty, but with eyes that reflected a vast expanse of knowledge much older than nineteen measly years. She had long, waving pink locks, that swayed lightly in the breeze that swept by, and crystal blue eyes that gazed coolly at the rocky area. She wore nothing but a sheer, thin purple dress, and her black boots hung loosely from her fingers as she stood. She blinked, breathing in deeply, as another small breeze flew by.

Beside her lay a massive, snake-like creature, that coiled itself about and rested its large head at her feet. It glittered a brilliant crystal clear in the setting sun with its scales on its underside, and the top layer of its fur bristled in the wind. Its striking white eyes blinked languidly, never straying too far from the girl it sat mere inches next to. Absentmindedly, blankly, the girl raised a hand to its head, and it obediently bowed, allowing for her to brush the top.

The girl? She was one of the monsters – a Rider, in human form; she was Feye, the rider of the dragonic beast. A tiny sigh escaped past her pale mauve lips, and her blue eyes blinked slowly, surveying the landscape as it unfolded before her. Her hand rose from its rest on the dragon, Mir’s, head, and came to the nape of her neck, where a crystal pendant dangled. Her fingers weaved itself in and out of the silver chain, and pulled away, and the pendant fell softly against her upper chest once more. Feye’s eyes narrowed slightly, before sighing once more.

The days seemed to be so empty, when she wasn’t following Izanami’s orders; it was as if she herself had no meaning in her own existence. Well…that was partially true, she supposed, without a hint of emotion. Izanami was her creator – it was natural that the only will she had was for the demonic queen. Still, what was the emptiness within her? It was – not to be cliché – like a gaping hole in her chest, that burned and itched and ached. It wasn’t loneliness – she had Mir for that.

But her mind, her damned mind, that always wandered back to that time, so long ago. That time she’d seen that husband and wife, hopelessly in love, and had seen love for the first time. The time, overcome with envy, she’d murdered both parents and child. That time, where she’d felt the salty water running down her cheeks and discovered what it meant to ‘cry.’ When it was quiet like this, she couldn’t help but to remember that love she’d been so jealous of.

How foolish. How pathetic. She was a Rider, not a human – she did not need such trivial emotions. And she had Mir, her lovely, trusted steed who would never betray her as humans betrayed one another. But she could not help this desolate emptiness that filled her emotions, whenever days like this reigned. Feye sighed again, and shrugged, and when she opened her eyes again, such notions were gone. She was Izanami’s fool – nothing more, nothing less.

(bare with me now im experimenting and tell if you like it more not)

The womanizer stumbled threw mountain chains, nothing registering but the sounds of his feet stomping threw. The crimson blood stained red cloak hid his face from all that dare try to look within. Shifting from left to right stumbling along not suspicious of the eerie silence. Unable to care about anything besides himself at this time. He begins to come to a stop, slowly scanning the area from left to right, up to down and nothings there. The womanizer tries to forget all common sense and knowledge that he has gained over the years.

The philosopher feigns ignorance as he continues his walk threw the chain. Something drags behind him, making its mark in the land as he stumbles forth. A burden greater then that of the world on his shoulder, dragging like its nothing behind him. Pushing the dirt and pebbles aside it continues to drag across the bairn land. Stopping once again to collect his thoughts, in seconds he finds out he has all his knowledge and common sense. A great moan escapes his lips like a prisoner of hell, raising the burden with one hand The philosopher lifts it to his lips and drinks.

The drunkard continues to drink from the burden that slowly relieves its self as he continues to drink. The burden seems to be unable to quench his thirst and need as it begins to run dry. Not noticing even the slightest change in the burden he continues to drink from it as if it was endless. Stumbling to the ground he continues to drink, only one thing can break this trance. It drops to his lip and pure frustration courses threw his being, the last drop is gone. The drunkard slams the burden into the ground and watches it shatter, thought the burden is shatter it still rests upon his shoulders.

The savage now in a blind fury begins to walk, the stumble is gone as if it never happened. His mind a becoming feral as his body begins to wreck havoc upon the land. Fists driving into the land with intense fury and strength. Blinded by rage he continues, his safety being his last concern. Burning a fiery red, his eyes begin to illuminate the darkness of the cloak exposing his face in all its raging glory. The savage begins to regain a shred of what he rejects most of all, humanity.

The troubled begins to wallow in his own self pity,finding it comforting like a home away from home. Brushing himself off as if nothing happened, he drags himself to a boulder, resting his head upon its cold surface. Regret fills his heart as the burden begins to increase its grip upon him. A tear falls from his eye and falls to rocks surface, gently sliding down its side as if it where its own. Picking himself upon only to stare at the burdens remains, stumbling towards it he finds only more sorrow. The troubled then picks himself up to a world of emptiness, hopelessness, and inevitable obliteration.

The reaper rears its head from the cloak and wipes its eye, ridding itself of emotion and regret. Standing tall in the hopeless world of tomorrow he walks with his head held high. As he stops to look back at the burden that held him deep in its grasp, he can only laugh. Sloth was comfort for the weak and the burden encourages such behavior even in his kind. Continuing his stride forward he stops once more only to gaze at the sun. The reaper rips its cloak from its head, hiding from nothing, regretting nothing, and forgetting nothing.

With the eyes of a monster he peered forward noticing figure in the distance. Cracking his neck as he slowly began to increase in speed toward the figure. Walking rather fast toward the figure Jack was far gone in a feral blood thirty state of mind. The figure was already dead to him as he continued his approach, hoping it was something worth killing his stomach began to growl. This hadn't happened in years, he welcomed it and knew what would happen if he didn't finish off the figure in time. Having made up his mind his stomach's growling was quelled, it seemed to agree with the idea of eating the figure.

• O Death | Jen Titus