[closed, complete]
Format: Narrative
Characters: Sparda
Location: Sparda's chambers, teacher dormitories
Time: Sometime between 12:00 am - 3:00 am
Summary: Upon finding a ring of his own, Sparda finally awakens a part of himself that he’s not sure he wants to be let out. (Oh yes, he's not just a random British gentlemen that likes tea. 8D)
Warnings: References to demons, the witching hour and stuff, if that makes you queasy or... something. Oo;;
Midnight to 3:00 am. A time that belonged to a chill night wind and the ghostly whispers of crickets. The time of devils and darkness and death.
Sparda knew of the so-called 'witching hour' long before he woke up here, but where he got that information from, he still didn’t know. All he knew now was that he always felt... different during this time, as if the night made him stronger, more alert than he normally was. His already sharp senses became hypersensitive and his thoughts were often filled with inexplicably dark urges that told him to go and kill and rip apart any living being in sight. He wasn’t a werewolf, of course --he didn't suddenly change shape with the waxing and waning of the moon. For the most part, as long as he was calm, he was in perfect control of his morph and could keep it as long as he wanted.
Of course, the 'morph' was his human form, a form he hid behind to avoid frightening the humans. He had instinctively known that he wasn't human, that he was a demon from the depths of Hell and that he was as ancient as the stars were old, but he knew nothing beyond that. What had he done in that long, empty life of his? Did he have another name? Did he have any kin, or was he the last of his kind? And how bloody did he end up here, in the middle of the human world?
So many questions. Each one was more complex than the next, so Sparda tried not to think about any of it during his waking day lest he drive himself mad. When the sun was out, he pretended to be the perfect teacher, to help keep some order in the confused, lost atmosphere of his school. During the night, however, it was clear that he was just as confused and disorientated as the other students and teachers.
Then that ring appeared. The blasted ring that sat innocently on his desk with a letter requesting his presence at the prince's palace deep in the forest. The ring that called him 'the Legendary Dark Knight'.
What did that mean? The title triggered bells in his head, but he only saw flashes of gruesome, horrible battles that he could make no sense of. The things that he fought, the beings that he slaughtered... They weren't even human!
Like me. Sparda had stared at the ring for a good few hours before he noticed that the sun was gone and that the witching hour was approaching. It was becoming harder and harder for him to remain the cool-headed, steady-fast professor and easier and easier for him to think of darker thoughts. Fool, a part of him hissed at himself. It calls for you. Go to it. Go find your missing memories, go claim what is yours.
Sparda stood in front of the window, his pale features light up by the pale light of the moon. His blue irises were dilated and slightly wild. The moon gives you strength. Embrace it as you always have. Love it like the woman you no longer remember. The voice in his head seemed to be growing stronger with each second that he spent soaking up the silver rays of the moon.
Sparda, however, did not fear it. He was the voice. As much as he may not want to listen to its words, the voice was the primal side of him that he had ignored since the day he woke up, the side that told him to do terrible, horrendous, bloody things to the gentle, soft-fleshed humans he saw around him. The violent thoughts made him grimace when he was before the humans during the day, but at night, when the voice was particularly strong and no humans were in sight, Sparda could let himself go and embrace the voice with open arms.
He knew it was dangerous to do so, but he couldn't help it. It was only when he was one with the voice that he could feel.... complete. Like he knew exactly who he was, what he could do and why he was here. Though his memories were still scattered at best, his identity felt more tangible and more real during the witching hour than it ever felt during the day.
Haloed by the light of the moon but embraced by the darkness at his back, the professor began to change. He shed the human disguise that he normally cherished and could feel his features molding into something much different and much more dangerous. His human face was replaced by glowing, red eyes and a wicked mouth full of fangs. His white hair disappeared into a pair of massive, ram-like horns. His body grew massive and his hands were replaced by giant claws capable of ripping through a pathetic human body. His skin was replaced by scales and armor-like growths, and his feet became sharp hooves that clunked on the man-made ground like something terribly out of place. He glowed a powerful, purple light that cooled the room to a freezing temperature and made the outside crickets shut themselves up in abject fear. Multiple pairs of massive, dragonfly-like wings unfurled from the creature's back and he stretched them slowly, like an old man that hadn't felt his limbs in a long, long time.
Sparda let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Being back in his real form felt so... good. His human body felt like a coat that was on too tight, but as a demon, he didn't feel constrained by anything.
Best of all, he felt great. The amount of sheer power running through his veins made him want to launch himself at the world and rip it to shreds, and then take every part of it and rip it into even smaller parts. I can do anything. A deep, guttural growl of satisfaction escaped his lips. And no one will stop me.
The demon turned and headed back to the table in his room, plucking out the ring from the letter with a gracefulness that most people would expect a creature half his size to possess. Eyes that had no pupils regarded the little piece of human jewelry with hunger and curiosity.
Fools, he hissed to himself, fighting the urge to pulverize the pathetic gold thing in his bare hand. I will fight for you as you requested, for a time. Then I will find you and rip you apart. I am no one's toy.
In the darkness of his chambers, Sparda could feel himself smiling at the declaration.
Characters: Sparda
Location: Sparda's chambers, teacher dormitories
Time: Sometime between 12:00 am - 3:00 am
Summary: Upon finding a ring of his own, Sparda finally awakens a part of himself that he’s not sure he wants to be let out. (Oh yes, he's not just a random British gentlemen that likes tea. 8D)
Warnings: References to demons, the witching hour and stuff, if that makes you queasy or... something. Oo;;
Midnight to 3:00 am. A time that belonged to a chill night wind and the ghostly whispers of crickets. The time of devils and darkness and death.
Sparda knew of the so-called 'witching hour' long before he woke up here, but where he got that information from, he still didn’t know. All he knew now was that he always felt... different during this time, as if the night made him stronger, more alert than he normally was. His already sharp senses became hypersensitive and his thoughts were often filled with inexplicably dark urges that told him to go and kill and rip apart any living being in sight. He wasn’t a werewolf, of course --he didn't suddenly change shape with the waxing and waning of the moon. For the most part, as long as he was calm, he was in perfect control of his morph and could keep it as long as he wanted.
Of course, the 'morph' was his human form, a form he hid behind to avoid frightening the humans. He had instinctively known that he wasn't human, that he was a demon from the depths of Hell and that he was as ancient as the stars were old, but he knew nothing beyond that. What had he done in that long, empty life of his? Did he have another name? Did he have any kin, or was he the last of his kind? And how bloody did he end up here, in the middle of the human world?
So many questions. Each one was more complex than the next, so Sparda tried not to think about any of it during his waking day lest he drive himself mad. When the sun was out, he pretended to be the perfect teacher, to help keep some order in the confused, lost atmosphere of his school. During the night, however, it was clear that he was just as confused and disorientated as the other students and teachers.
Then that ring appeared. The blasted ring that sat innocently on his desk with a letter requesting his presence at the prince's palace deep in the forest. The ring that called him 'the Legendary Dark Knight'.
What did that mean? The title triggered bells in his head, but he only saw flashes of gruesome, horrible battles that he could make no sense of. The things that he fought, the beings that he slaughtered... They weren't even human!
Like me. Sparda had stared at the ring for a good few hours before he noticed that the sun was gone and that the witching hour was approaching. It was becoming harder and harder for him to remain the cool-headed, steady-fast professor and easier and easier for him to think of darker thoughts. Fool, a part of him hissed at himself. It calls for you. Go to it. Go find your missing memories, go claim what is yours.
Sparda stood in front of the window, his pale features light up by the pale light of the moon. His blue irises were dilated and slightly wild. The moon gives you strength. Embrace it as you always have. Love it like the woman you no longer remember. The voice in his head seemed to be growing stronger with each second that he spent soaking up the silver rays of the moon.
Sparda, however, did not fear it. He was the voice. As much as he may not want to listen to its words, the voice was the primal side of him that he had ignored since the day he woke up, the side that told him to do terrible, horrendous, bloody things to the gentle, soft-fleshed humans he saw around him. The violent thoughts made him grimace when he was before the humans during the day, but at night, when the voice was particularly strong and no humans were in sight, Sparda could let himself go and embrace the voice with open arms.
He knew it was dangerous to do so, but he couldn't help it. It was only when he was one with the voice that he could feel.... complete. Like he knew exactly who he was, what he could do and why he was here. Though his memories were still scattered at best, his identity felt more tangible and more real during the witching hour than it ever felt during the day.
Haloed by the light of the moon but embraced by the darkness at his back, the professor began to change. He shed the human disguise that he normally cherished and could feel his features molding into something much different and much more dangerous. His human face was replaced by glowing, red eyes and a wicked mouth full of fangs. His white hair disappeared into a pair of massive, ram-like horns. His body grew massive and his hands were replaced by giant claws capable of ripping through a pathetic human body. His skin was replaced by scales and armor-like growths, and his feet became sharp hooves that clunked on the man-made ground like something terribly out of place. He glowed a powerful, purple light that cooled the room to a freezing temperature and made the outside crickets shut themselves up in abject fear. Multiple pairs of massive, dragonfly-like wings unfurled from the creature's back and he stretched them slowly, like an old man that hadn't felt his limbs in a long, long time.
Sparda let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Being back in his real form felt so... good. His human body felt like a coat that was on too tight, but as a demon, he didn't feel constrained by anything.
Best of all, he felt great. The amount of sheer power running through his veins made him want to launch himself at the world and rip it to shreds, and then take every part of it and rip it into even smaller parts. I can do anything. A deep, guttural growl of satisfaction escaped his lips. And no one will stop me.
The demon turned and headed back to the table in his room, plucking out the ring from the letter with a gracefulness that most people would expect a creature half his size to possess. Eyes that had no pupils regarded the little piece of human jewelry with hunger and curiosity.
Fools, he hissed to himself, fighting the urge to pulverize the pathetic gold thing in his bare hand. I will fight for you as you requested, for a time. Then I will find you and rip you apart. I am no one's toy.
In the darkness of his chambers, Sparda could feel himself smiling at the declaration.