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Another change? Suikoden 3 fic?
I should've been asleep hours ago.
Damn you, LJ! Hurry up and put the contest winning layouts, at least, up for my usage! I want to get out of this green thing I'm using and dislike already.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfsamurai, I became displeased with some of my icons and have had to replace a Jon (I still heart my Daily Show) and the CCSakura "Stay" (it's practically ancient now) and both of my loved but sadly replaceable Zim icons. Now I have Mac Halls (thanks to gatafairy *heart*) and -- after much angsting over a clingy support icon -- a Chrno Crusade one that's sodamncute.
Nobody cares.
"Something is wrong," Beecham said, and Aila muttered, "The spirits are afraid."
It was Geddoe who intoned simply, "Someone is coming."
Hugo nodded.
The bonfire still crackled merrily; the Karayans gathered in the center of town around it feasted and danced on, unsuspecting. But there was a tension surrounding the celebration that those who were watching for it, those who could never find the will to relax, could sense almost by second nature. On the outskirts of the growing village, the unfortunate souls who had drawn guard duty for the holiday feast shivered as the wind turned cold, and glanced at one another anxiously when the grass shook as if in nervous tremors.
He had thought at first that it was native. Hugo could feel it in his bones and he knew right away -- from the way his mother stiffened at the headman's table, and the way his companions reacted -- that the others felt it. He was used to Grasslanders being in touch with the world around them. But if Geddoe could feel it, that meant it was something else.
A True Rune. It was coming this way, and the sleeping spirits were frightened.
"Is the visitor hostile?" Hugo asked Geddoe quietly. The other man shifted in his seat, thinking, perhaps seeking a sort of bond with his Rune that Hugo had not yet mastered; he shook his head.
"I think that whoever he is," the dark mercenary said slowly, "he's only tired." Geddoe seemed to sympathize.
Aila looked skeptical. "Being tired can be dangerous when you're that powerful," she said. It was written plain on her face that she was thinking of the Grasslands incident, of the bearer of True Wind, and what he'd tried to do, almost five years ago now.
Geddoe only shook his head, and in the same heartbeat both he and Hugo stood, the latter pushing himself up from where he'd been sitting cross-legged on the ground. Aila scrambled to attempt to match the gesture, but she wasn't nimble enough with the roundness of her stomach hampering her movements, and Beecham had to help her stand.
"Don't know where that man of yours thinks he's going off to," the older man muttered. "I know I never ran off on my wife when she was pregnant..."
From the darkening look on Aila's face, someone was about to get an earful, and Hugo had no interest in staying around for it. "Beecham -- when he comes -- please tell him where I'll be." He retreated quickly to his home and prepared for the wait.
He didn't stay there for long. The approach of the other burned through his blood, as if the rune of True Fire throbbed at every step closer. Even after the other celebrants had long gone to bed, the young Karaya Clan Chief paced in his home, unable to sleep, almost feverish; he nearly tripped twice on his own daggers. It's not a sign, he told himself, and kept moving. He wondered if Geddoe felt the same way, but there were no lamps lit in the hut where he was staying.
By the time the visitor arrived, Hugo was sitting on a rock at the entrance to the village. The cool air soothed his skin as he waited.
He was not so tall as Hugo would have expected, and wearing strange, foreign clothes. His head was shrouded in white cloth to protect him from the hot Grassland sun, or the chill night breezes that roared over the plains. Outsiders had such thin blood. When he approached he tugged the wrapping from his pale brown hair.
So young, Hugo realized with a start. He hardly looks my age. But there was no telling, where True Runes were involved. The dawn-shift guards stood back and watched while their chieftain climbed to his feet and stepped down to meet the visitor.
There was a moment's pause, and then, as if not used to the words, the stranger said, "I have come here from Toran Nation -- to ask a favor."
"That's a long way to walk..." Hugo said politely and trailed off, waiting for a name to be supplied.
Dark eyes met his, but they looked right through him. "Tir. I need your assistance, to help my friend... he's sick. I was told that the remedy for his illness was in Grasslands." The visitor took a shallow breath to steady his nerves, and it seemed to Hugo that the whole world stilled until he had exhaled again. "Please say you can help me," he said; "Gremio is all I have left."
Damn you, LJ! Hurry up and put the contest winning layouts, at least, up for my usage! I want to get out of this green thing I'm using and dislike already.
Thanks to
wolfsamurai, I became displeased with some of my icons and have had to replace a Jon (I still heart my Daily Show) and the CCSakura "Stay" (it's practically ancient now) and both of my loved but sadly replaceable Zim icons. Now I have Mac Halls (thanks to gatafairy *heart*) and -- after much angsting over a clingy support icon -- a Chrno Crusade one that's sodamncute.Nobody cares.
"Something is wrong," Beecham said, and Aila muttered, "The spirits are afraid."
It was Geddoe who intoned simply, "Someone is coming."
Hugo nodded.
The bonfire still crackled merrily; the Karayans gathered in the center of town around it feasted and danced on, unsuspecting. But there was a tension surrounding the celebration that those who were watching for it, those who could never find the will to relax, could sense almost by second nature. On the outskirts of the growing village, the unfortunate souls who had drawn guard duty for the holiday feast shivered as the wind turned cold, and glanced at one another anxiously when the grass shook as if in nervous tremors.
He had thought at first that it was native. Hugo could feel it in his bones and he knew right away -- from the way his mother stiffened at the headman's table, and the way his companions reacted -- that the others felt it. He was used to Grasslanders being in touch with the world around them. But if Geddoe could feel it, that meant it was something else.
A True Rune. It was coming this way, and the sleeping spirits were frightened.
"Is the visitor hostile?" Hugo asked Geddoe quietly. The other man shifted in his seat, thinking, perhaps seeking a sort of bond with his Rune that Hugo had not yet mastered; he shook his head.
"I think that whoever he is," the dark mercenary said slowly, "he's only tired." Geddoe seemed to sympathize.
Aila looked skeptical. "Being tired can be dangerous when you're that powerful," she said. It was written plain on her face that she was thinking of the Grasslands incident, of the bearer of True Wind, and what he'd tried to do, almost five years ago now.
Geddoe only shook his head, and in the same heartbeat both he and Hugo stood, the latter pushing himself up from where he'd been sitting cross-legged on the ground. Aila scrambled to attempt to match the gesture, but she wasn't nimble enough with the roundness of her stomach hampering her movements, and Beecham had to help her stand.
"Don't know where that man of yours thinks he's going off to," the older man muttered. "I know I never ran off on my wife when she was pregnant..."
From the darkening look on Aila's face, someone was about to get an earful, and Hugo had no interest in staying around for it. "Beecham -- when he comes -- please tell him where I'll be." He retreated quickly to his home and prepared for the wait.
He didn't stay there for long. The approach of the other burned through his blood, as if the rune of True Fire throbbed at every step closer. Even after the other celebrants had long gone to bed, the young Karaya Clan Chief paced in his home, unable to sleep, almost feverish; he nearly tripped twice on his own daggers. It's not a sign, he told himself, and kept moving. He wondered if Geddoe felt the same way, but there were no lamps lit in the hut where he was staying.
By the time the visitor arrived, Hugo was sitting on a rock at the entrance to the village. The cool air soothed his skin as he waited.
He was not so tall as Hugo would have expected, and wearing strange, foreign clothes. His head was shrouded in white cloth to protect him from the hot Grassland sun, or the chill night breezes that roared over the plains. Outsiders had such thin blood. When he approached he tugged the wrapping from his pale brown hair.
So young, Hugo realized with a start. He hardly looks my age. But there was no telling, where True Runes were involved. The dawn-shift guards stood back and watched while their chieftain climbed to his feet and stepped down to meet the visitor.
There was a moment's pause, and then, as if not used to the words, the stranger said, "I have come here from Toran Nation -- to ask a favor."
"That's a long way to walk..." Hugo said politely and trailed off, waiting for a name to be supplied.
Dark eyes met his, but they looked right through him. "Tir. I need your assistance, to help my friend... he's sick. I was told that the remedy for his illness was in Grasslands." The visitor took a shallow breath to steady his nerves, and it seemed to Hugo that the whole world stilled until he had exhaled again. "Please say you can help me," he said; "Gremio is all I have left."
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