(no subject)
Characters: Ilyigan (favorthebold) and Bellflower (wayofflowers)
Date/Time: Backdated to April 30th
Location: Wellspring
Rating: Up to PG-13 if it gets violent
Summary: A more fateful meeting than either party knows.
Ilyigan's hand throbbed, a steady but faint ache radiating from his burned palm. As excuses went, it was a painful one, but he needed an excuse and knew he would take anything. Two days since he had shared her dream - Bellflower, a neighbor gave him the name when he described the delicate, dark-haired woman. Bellflower, a clinic worker on Wellspring Island., a pleasant sort, apparently. That was all that Ilyigan knew.
That, and that he wanted to kill her.
He had no idea why. The feeling had all but appeared out of midair to rattle him awake from the dream he had seen. He knew this woman, and he wanted to fight and slay her. Not to see her dead - no, it had nothing to do with hatred. Quite the opposite. It was a fierce admiration, rather, and an impersonal one, like one might feel toward a prize horse or a mighty steam train. An acknowledgement of power - and somehow, coupled with it, the need to destroy. And all this, without the first idea of why.
He needed an excuse. He had to meet her, but the meeting had to look accidental. So he was less careful than he might have had in his experiments with the kitchen in his house. Ilyigan had learned by now that he didn't quite feel pain as an ordinary man might: the burn bothered him only a little, but it looked very unpleasant, bad enough to require a professional hand. And so now he was at Wellspring for a perfectly legitimate reason.
Now he only needed some good luck.
Date/Time: Backdated to April 30th
Location: Wellspring
Rating: Up to PG-13 if it gets violent
Summary: A more fateful meeting than either party knows.
Ilyigan's hand throbbed, a steady but faint ache radiating from his burned palm. As excuses went, it was a painful one, but he needed an excuse and knew he would take anything. Two days since he had shared her dream - Bellflower, a neighbor gave him the name when he described the delicate, dark-haired woman. Bellflower, a clinic worker on Wellspring Island., a pleasant sort, apparently. That was all that Ilyigan knew.
That, and that he wanted to kill her.
He had no idea why. The feeling had all but appeared out of midair to rattle him awake from the dream he had seen. He knew this woman, and he wanted to fight and slay her. Not to see her dead - no, it had nothing to do with hatred. Quite the opposite. It was a fierce admiration, rather, and an impersonal one, like one might feel toward a prize horse or a mighty steam train. An acknowledgement of power - and somehow, coupled with it, the need to destroy. And all this, without the first idea of why.
He needed an excuse. He had to meet her, but the meeting had to look accidental. So he was less careful than he might have had in his experiments with the kitchen in his house. Ilyigan had learned by now that he didn't quite feel pain as an ordinary man might: the burn bothered him only a little, but it looked very unpleasant, bad enough to require a professional hand. And so now he was at Wellspring for a perfectly legitimate reason.
Now he only needed some good luck.