A Promise Scorned By Fate
The dream comes alive with the roaring fire of Mataras, pulling slowly towards the black marble of Ezorod, which quickly engulfs our view. We see Isra, hanging from a support structure of Far Portal, welding two shattered arms together. We see Mana the Fire Whale, nearly recuperated from the recent war, marking this vision as sometime late in your break between Crucible and the Forge.
We hover down the docks, where two figures hang their legs from the edge, looking up at the sparkling lights generated from Isra's welder. Abelina and Chamas. We view them from behind, close enough to listen in. The two are sitting... Noticeably closer. But Chamas' shoulders are still guarded.
Chamas: "--but he's getting better. Healthy enough that he's back to all the talking."
Abelina: "You get used to it. It's kind of nice, after a while. Even when everyone else is quiet... Mist runs his mouth."
Chamas: "Squak does that too."
Abelina: "So you have a type?" Chamas' hair slides around his shoulders as he turns his head slightly, and Abelina shoulders his ribs. The Lashunta grunts, and Abelina laughs. A quiet moment passes between the two, and another spark erupts from Isra's welder. Abelina: "So... Another war."
Chamas: "Just a battle."
Abelina: "Is there really a difference at this point?"
Chamas: "Wars take longer. Cost more."
Abelina: "Are you worried?"
Chamas: "No." Abelina looks up at him, her face backlit by another spark. Chamas unconsciously tilts his head away, investigating the mechanisms of Far Portal. Abelina: "Chamas, the great big warrior. Never afraid, right?"
Chamas: "Right."
Abelina: "Well... What if I'm afraid?"
Chamas: "Shouldn't be."
Abelina: "Oh? Enlighten me."
Chamas: "Not going alone. The Warden will take care of us."
Abelina: "What if Mist isn't around? He gets knocked out more than any of us." There is a low pause, and Chamas mutters something under his breath. Abelina perks up, leaning mischeviously. Chamas' head tilts further away, observing the swirls in the shadowy bubble around Ezorod. Abelina: "What was that? I didn't catch--"
Chamas: "It was noth--"
Abelina: "Sorry, huh?"
Chamas: "Forget about--"
Abelina: "You're muttering."
Chamas: "Then I'll take care of you! There!" The silence grows, and Chamas twitches. Chamas: "And Isra. And Lockette. And Tesin. Not you speci-" Abelina leans her head on Chamas' shoulder, and the mercenary quiets. A shower of sparks rains down from the top of Far Portal, and the ring suddenly roars to life. Isra's cheering can be heard even from this distance, as she repels down her harness towards the control panels. Abelina: "It's a promise, then." The vision grows faded, as if a clouded filter was placed over the lens, and the Haze shows us something unseen by the eye. Creeping, black tendrils pour out of Abelina, wrapping her body like a shroud. A blood mist hangs over Chamas, taking the form of a man, entangled in a conflict with a similar being made of smoke, shaking with the steady beat of war drums. Then the lens cracks -- splitting the pair directly down the middle -- and Abelina screams. The vision ends.
Abelina: "You get used to it. It's kind of nice, after a while. Even when everyone else is quiet... Mist runs his mouth."
Chamas: "Squak does that too."
Abelina: "So you have a type?" Chamas' hair slides around his shoulders as he turns his head slightly, and Abelina shoulders his ribs. The Lashunta grunts, and Abelina laughs. A quiet moment passes between the two, and another spark erupts from Isra's welder. Abelina: "So... Another war."
Chamas: "Just a battle."
Abelina: "Is there really a difference at this point?"
Chamas: "Wars take longer. Cost more."
Abelina: "Are you worried?"
Chamas: "No." Abelina looks up at him, her face backlit by another spark. Chamas unconsciously tilts his head away, investigating the mechanisms of Far Portal. Abelina: "Chamas, the great big warrior. Never afraid, right?"
Chamas: "Right."
Abelina: "Well... What if I'm afraid?"
Chamas: "Shouldn't be."
Abelina: "Oh? Enlighten me."
Chamas: "Not going alone. The Warden will take care of us."
Abelina: "What if Mist isn't around? He gets knocked out more than any of us." There is a low pause, and Chamas mutters something under his breath. Abelina perks up, leaning mischeviously. Chamas' head tilts further away, observing the swirls in the shadowy bubble around Ezorod. Abelina: "What was that? I didn't catch--"
Chamas: "It was noth--"
Abelina: "Sorry, huh?"
Chamas: "Forget about--"
Abelina: "You're muttering."
Chamas: "Then I'll take care of you! There!" The silence grows, and Chamas twitches. Chamas: "And Isra. And Lockette. And Tesin. Not you speci-" Abelina leans her head on Chamas' shoulder, and the mercenary quiets. A shower of sparks rains down from the top of Far Portal, and the ring suddenly roars to life. Isra's cheering can be heard even from this distance, as she repels down her harness towards the control panels. Abelina: "It's a promise, then." The vision grows faded, as if a clouded filter was placed over the lens, and the Haze shows us something unseen by the eye. Creeping, black tendrils pour out of Abelina, wrapping her body like a shroud. A blood mist hangs over Chamas, taking the form of a man, entangled in a conflict with a similar being made of smoke, shaking with the steady beat of war drums. Then the lens cracks -- splitting the pair directly down the middle -- and Abelina screams. The vision ends.
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