I walked a thousand miles
At the moment, I have . . . nothing to say. It's kind of refreshing.
Today's fic is the next chapter of my Demon Hunter AU. Previously posted installments are as follows:
Main Storyline
Chapter One: A Single Step
Sidestories
Haunted
Storytelling
Chapter 2: The Long Road
Ryuuki tucked his body more tightly into the hollow of the tree's roots, trying to shift so that the two swords he carried weren't digging into his back quite so painfully, careful not to make the slightest sound. It had been two weeks since he'd climbed over the high walls of the palace and stolen through the streets of the dark capital. The city was unfamiliar to him, but despite that he could tell that the situation in the palace had taken its toll. He had to skirt a swath of several city blocks that had been damaged by fire, and once or twice he came across unmoving bodies lying abandoned on the sides of the street. There had been other people about in the night, but despite his curiosity he had hidden from anyone he saw, feeling like a ghost as he moved silently through the streets.
There were certainly plenty of those around, although they were not so dense a presence as the ones that haunted the palace. They took no interest in him, at least, and he kept his eyes averted when he encountered them, not wanting them to change their minds if they saw that he could see them. That was the hardest part, actually. It seemed like it took a long time, but his memory of the layout of the city streets was good, and at last he was at the high wall that marked the limits of the city. The gates were shut, but he had slipped passed a nodding guard in patched armor and wormed soundlessly through the postern without being noticed.
When dawn had come he was well outside the city, with the rising sun casting his shadow long and skinny before him. By then his proud strides had decreased to a limp, and from there to a footsore hobble. It wasn't even noon before he had to stop, dropping exhausted into what cover he could find, his eyes closing almost before he hit the ground. When he woke up again hours later, just standing up felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. His pack and the swords seemed to get heavier with every step, pulling unendingly downwards against his aching shoulders. He rounded them in mute, stubborn opposition to the burden and trudged onwards.
The road westward from the capital was a fairly busy one, and he had tried to avoid those who traveled it as much as he could. Although after a while he'd wondered if it was really necessary, since he felt so dirty and caked with road dust that he figured other people would surely be avoiding him. At first he had hidden when he heard the hoof-beats of fast-moving horses that generally heralded army scouts or messengers, but none of them ever stopped or even slowed down at the sight of his stooped, strangely-burdened and road-weary self. A near miss taught him that he had better make way, because no one was going to make way for him.
He'd thought a lot about how his trip to find his brother would be, but he'd never thought that it would be so . . . well, hard. Physical exertion was of course familiar, and the exhaustion that followed it-- that he'd learned during his sword lessons with General Sou. His brothers had made sure that he was no stranger to pain, and the haunts of the palace had introduced him to more than his fair share of pure terror. But now he had to eat the same thing every day, and he'd never realized just how boring it was. Or how bumpy and unpleasant the ground was for sleeping, even when he managed to find some grass or leaves to curl up on. Or how much he missed just being clean-- he'd had a boy's casual scorn for baths when he'd lived in the palace, but now he longed for a chance to scrub the dirt out of his hair, and why had he not thought to bring soap? He could buy it, maybe, but where did you even buy soap?
But maybe it was for the best right now if he smelled like nothing but road dirt. He tried to still his breathing, quiet the pounding of his heart. He didn't know what he was hiding from, exactly-- or even why he was hiding. But something had told him that there was danger coming, something stronger than instinct or feeling. Something had impressed on his mind the urgency of finding a hiding place and staying there. It was not long after sunrise, and he had been soundly asleep-- and then abruptly he had been awake, with the knowledge that danger was nearby, and getting closer.
The fold in the tree trunk's twisted roots concealed him, though it was a tight fit with the swords. He had hastily grabbed everything from his small camp, thankful that there wasn't much to grab, and that the summer's heat was such that he hadn't bothered to try making a fire. It had been dark, but in the woods some distance from the road there were no ghosts lurking, and there had been enough moonlight that he hadn't felt the need to banish the pressing night. Now the sky was grey through the branches of the trees, but the forest floor was still gloomy, almost physically so, combining with the heat to choke him. And there was a strange smell in the air, something he'd never encountered before-- somehow both spicy and faintly foul, with an underlying whiff of decay. The forest had gone unnaturally silent, and he heard something approaching, the faint rustle of leaves and underbrush as some creature pushed through.
And then he could see it. At first glance it was an animal, about the size of a dog-- but no dog Ryuuki had ever seen had such a thinly tapered muzzle ringed with jagged needle-pointed teeth. Dogs had four legs, not six; they had fur, not patchy scales. They didn't have hooked talons, like birds, or bare, whipping ratlike tails, or jointed body segments like an insect's carapace. And they didn't have eyes like that-- large, saucer eyes, golden with strangely shaped pupils of indigo, set on the sides of the monster's head and moving entirely independent of each other.
The smell became suddenly worse with the creature in sight, but it was those horrific eyes that had Ryuuki swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat. The sense of wrongness that they gave him was so pervasive it sent goosebumps shivering all over his body, had his toes curling in protest within his shoes. It was a horror alike and yet different from the creeping, silent fear that the ghosts he saw brought with them. Somehow this creature's existence seemed an affront to the woods through which it snuffled and prowled, an outrage to the world itself.
Ravager. The word appeared in his head in an instant, like the impact of a raindrop on the surface of a still pond, and he knew it was the monster's name without knowing how he knew. He could not wonder at the sudden inexplicable onset of that knowledge, though-- all of his attention, every one of his senses was focused on the monster stalking through the woods before him, and its wet breathing as it nosed among the leaves.
It seemed like an eternity until it gave up on the small clearing and trotted in a strange, oily rolling gait away into the forest, but it was even longer before Ryuuki could get himself to emerge from the protective hollow of the tree roots and back into the open again. By then the morning light was slanting through the trees, banishing some of the gloom. It wasn't enough to banish the unsettling knowledge of the ravager's passing, though. Ryuuki returned to the road with haste and stayed closer to it the following night, though between fears both old and new-found he didn't sleep well. He slept with the scroll bearing his brother's portrait clutched to his chest, and both swords unsheathed on the ground beside him.
Today's fic is the next chapter of my Demon Hunter AU. Previously posted installments are as follows:
Main Storyline
Chapter One: A Single Step
Sidestories
Haunted
Storytelling
Chapter 2: The Long Road
Ryuuki tucked his body more tightly into the hollow of the tree's roots, trying to shift so that the two swords he carried weren't digging into his back quite so painfully, careful not to make the slightest sound. It had been two weeks since he'd climbed over the high walls of the palace and stolen through the streets of the dark capital. The city was unfamiliar to him, but despite that he could tell that the situation in the palace had taken its toll. He had to skirt a swath of several city blocks that had been damaged by fire, and once or twice he came across unmoving bodies lying abandoned on the sides of the street. There had been other people about in the night, but despite his curiosity he had hidden from anyone he saw, feeling like a ghost as he moved silently through the streets.
There were certainly plenty of those around, although they were not so dense a presence as the ones that haunted the palace. They took no interest in him, at least, and he kept his eyes averted when he encountered them, not wanting them to change their minds if they saw that he could see them. That was the hardest part, actually. It seemed like it took a long time, but his memory of the layout of the city streets was good, and at last he was at the high wall that marked the limits of the city. The gates were shut, but he had slipped passed a nodding guard in patched armor and wormed soundlessly through the postern without being noticed.
When dawn had come he was well outside the city, with the rising sun casting his shadow long and skinny before him. By then his proud strides had decreased to a limp, and from there to a footsore hobble. It wasn't even noon before he had to stop, dropping exhausted into what cover he could find, his eyes closing almost before he hit the ground. When he woke up again hours later, just standing up felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. His pack and the swords seemed to get heavier with every step, pulling unendingly downwards against his aching shoulders. He rounded them in mute, stubborn opposition to the burden and trudged onwards.
The road westward from the capital was a fairly busy one, and he had tried to avoid those who traveled it as much as he could. Although after a while he'd wondered if it was really necessary, since he felt so dirty and caked with road dust that he figured other people would surely be avoiding him. At first he had hidden when he heard the hoof-beats of fast-moving horses that generally heralded army scouts or messengers, but none of them ever stopped or even slowed down at the sight of his stooped, strangely-burdened and road-weary self. A near miss taught him that he had better make way, because no one was going to make way for him.
He'd thought a lot about how his trip to find his brother would be, but he'd never thought that it would be so . . . well, hard. Physical exertion was of course familiar, and the exhaustion that followed it-- that he'd learned during his sword lessons with General Sou. His brothers had made sure that he was no stranger to pain, and the haunts of the palace had introduced him to more than his fair share of pure terror. But now he had to eat the same thing every day, and he'd never realized just how boring it was. Or how bumpy and unpleasant the ground was for sleeping, even when he managed to find some grass or leaves to curl up on. Or how much he missed just being clean-- he'd had a boy's casual scorn for baths when he'd lived in the palace, but now he longed for a chance to scrub the dirt out of his hair, and why had he not thought to bring soap? He could buy it, maybe, but where did you even buy soap?
But maybe it was for the best right now if he smelled like nothing but road dirt. He tried to still his breathing, quiet the pounding of his heart. He didn't know what he was hiding from, exactly-- or even why he was hiding. But something had told him that there was danger coming, something stronger than instinct or feeling. Something had impressed on his mind the urgency of finding a hiding place and staying there. It was not long after sunrise, and he had been soundly asleep-- and then abruptly he had been awake, with the knowledge that danger was nearby, and getting closer.
The fold in the tree trunk's twisted roots concealed him, though it was a tight fit with the swords. He had hastily grabbed everything from his small camp, thankful that there wasn't much to grab, and that the summer's heat was such that he hadn't bothered to try making a fire. It had been dark, but in the woods some distance from the road there were no ghosts lurking, and there had been enough moonlight that he hadn't felt the need to banish the pressing night. Now the sky was grey through the branches of the trees, but the forest floor was still gloomy, almost physically so, combining with the heat to choke him. And there was a strange smell in the air, something he'd never encountered before-- somehow both spicy and faintly foul, with an underlying whiff of decay. The forest had gone unnaturally silent, and he heard something approaching, the faint rustle of leaves and underbrush as some creature pushed through.
And then he could see it. At first glance it was an animal, about the size of a dog-- but no dog Ryuuki had ever seen had such a thinly tapered muzzle ringed with jagged needle-pointed teeth. Dogs had four legs, not six; they had fur, not patchy scales. They didn't have hooked talons, like birds, or bare, whipping ratlike tails, or jointed body segments like an insect's carapace. And they didn't have eyes like that-- large, saucer eyes, golden with strangely shaped pupils of indigo, set on the sides of the monster's head and moving entirely independent of each other.
The smell became suddenly worse with the creature in sight, but it was those horrific eyes that had Ryuuki swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat. The sense of wrongness that they gave him was so pervasive it sent goosebumps shivering all over his body, had his toes curling in protest within his shoes. It was a horror alike and yet different from the creeping, silent fear that the ghosts he saw brought with them. Somehow this creature's existence seemed an affront to the woods through which it snuffled and prowled, an outrage to the world itself.
Ravager. The word appeared in his head in an instant, like the impact of a raindrop on the surface of a still pond, and he knew it was the monster's name without knowing how he knew. He could not wonder at the sudden inexplicable onset of that knowledge, though-- all of his attention, every one of his senses was focused on the monster stalking through the woods before him, and its wet breathing as it nosed among the leaves.
It seemed like an eternity until it gave up on the small clearing and trotted in a strange, oily rolling gait away into the forest, but it was even longer before Ryuuki could get himself to emerge from the protective hollow of the tree roots and back into the open again. By then the morning light was slanting through the trees, banishing some of the gloom. It wasn't enough to banish the unsettling knowledge of the ravager's passing, though. Ryuuki returned to the road with haste and stayed closer to it the following night, though between fears both old and new-found he didn't sleep well. He slept with the scroll bearing his brother's portrait clutched to his chest, and both swords unsheathed on the ground beside him.