001: watch for me by moonlight
[The road, if it can be called a road, is narrow. So narrow that it would be hard to walk along it facing forward instead of sideways. To both sides there's a drop off that seems to go down forever, layers of shadows and tendrils of mist that float disturbingly deep in that darkness. Mountains rise on either side, catching the moonlight and showing cracks of pale blue and silver white but they're too far away too touch, their forms jagged and sharp in the night. The path winds and twists back on itself, crumbling at the edges, hairpin turns and broken snake backed twists, a giant's dropped spool of gray thread leading upward. Always upward. In the empty night something's creaking, like old wood, loose and dry, the protest of frayed rope a higher counterpoint even if there is no wood or rope to be seen. Just the gravel path, the moonless sky pin pricked with stars and the foreboding guardian mountains. The wind's cold and sharp as it washes through the pass, and it cuts on each inhale, stealing away the warmth of exhales and turning them to white clouds promising snow. It's an empty world, alone and lonely, coming from darkness and vanishing into darkness again.
Until the vibrating roar of an engine.
It starts quiet but the rumbling growl grows in volume quickly. Something's coming. Fast. There's a light like an approaching star, falling too fast to be real, switching back and forth on the back trail, light vanishing on the turns before glowing even bright with each new appearance. There's the skid and slip of gravel falling down into the endless night, whispering against the sides of the road as it falls and the sound of the engine is a purr, a warning, an inevitability.
Run?
To where?
There's not even a side to step off to.
The approaching form takes shape, slick, sleek black gunmetal with the stars washing silver over it and it doesn't care, a wolf on tireless feet as it speeds out of the darkness. Run, walk, stand and wait. There's no difference to it and no slow in it's breakneck approach. One moment it's there and then, suddenly, it's here. There's a flash of gold, of blue and of eerie, misplaced green as the motorcycle roars straight through -
And Cloud Strife suddenly acquires a new passenger. A new package. PC it's been marked in Tifa's clear handwriting. Precious Cargo. It's his job to see it safely delivered and Fenrir's engine thrums as the bike leans and sways down that impossible, narrow forever road into night. Cloud's body moves with the bike as if they're one and the same, taking the insane turns at an insane speed, sometimes shifting the bike so far on it's side to make a turn that it's a straight look all the way down into the mist and falling dark. Against the cold, he's warm and as solid as the mountains that never seem to pass on either side. But Fenrir's tires skid in the gravel and the wind doesn't like sharing the road with anyone else.
Hang on tight. It's going to be one hell of a ride.]
ooc:: anyone up for a little midnight ride? I'm back and catching up so posts will be slow at the beginning but pick up as I go. Feel free to be the one latched suddenly on to our intrepid delivery boy or come up with your own approach. Just realize he's not slowing down. Adults in the back, smaller kids in the front for the ride. And with that in mind - Cloud's got a weakness for kids. Feel free to age your characters down physically or even mentally for this. Trust us - you're in good hands. He's a professional after all...
Until the vibrating roar of an engine.
It starts quiet but the rumbling growl grows in volume quickly. Something's coming. Fast. There's a light like an approaching star, falling too fast to be real, switching back and forth on the back trail, light vanishing on the turns before glowing even bright with each new appearance. There's the skid and slip of gravel falling down into the endless night, whispering against the sides of the road as it falls and the sound of the engine is a purr, a warning, an inevitability.
Run?
To where?
There's not even a side to step off to.
The approaching form takes shape, slick, sleek black gunmetal with the stars washing silver over it and it doesn't care, a wolf on tireless feet as it speeds out of the darkness. Run, walk, stand and wait. There's no difference to it and no slow in it's breakneck approach. One moment it's there and then, suddenly, it's here. There's a flash of gold, of blue and of eerie, misplaced green as the motorcycle roars straight through -
And Cloud Strife suddenly acquires a new passenger. A new package. PC it's been marked in Tifa's clear handwriting. Precious Cargo. It's his job to see it safely delivered and Fenrir's engine thrums as the bike leans and sways down that impossible, narrow forever road into night. Cloud's body moves with the bike as if they're one and the same, taking the insane turns at an insane speed, sometimes shifting the bike so far on it's side to make a turn that it's a straight look all the way down into the mist and falling dark. Against the cold, he's warm and as solid as the mountains that never seem to pass on either side. But Fenrir's tires skid in the gravel and the wind doesn't like sharing the road with anyone else.
Hang on tight. It's going to be one hell of a ride.]
ooc:: anyone up for a little midnight ride? I'm back and catching up so posts will be slow at the beginning but pick up as I go. Feel free to be the one latched suddenly on to our intrepid delivery boy or come up with your own approach. Just realize he's not slowing down. Adults in the back, smaller kids in the front for the ride. And with that in mind - Cloud's got a weakness for kids. Feel free to age your characters down physically or even mentally for this. Trust us - you're in good hands. He's a professional after all...