Ficlets: from the 100 prompts (066)
Title: (066) Rain (yepee! 2/3 done!)
word count: ~260
disclaimer: Because I'd never give a lawyer such an easy target, no claims of ownership are made over StS and/or/with/at/in/of its derivative works. These, (together - i assume- with some home furniture, books and underwear) belong to Kurumada and Toei.
066 - Rain
He couldn’t see more than a few meters away, but he knew they were there. They, the enemy. Hoards of them, probably, thick as a sea of grass. He could hear their footsteps, heavy armored bodies pressing hard on the mud.
So this was it, this was THE battlefield. This was the moment he had prepared for, the one instant to which every minute of his life had bean meant for. For years, every second of his waking life, he had lived and relived this. They had made sure he was ready for it.
Then, why was he so scared? It wasn’t death that frightened him, it couldn’t be. He had prayed for it to come for him many times, and he had made his peace with death long ago. So what, then?
The rain picked up, heavy droplets falling on his helmet, on his face. The sounds of the approaching enemy grew louder; they would be on him anytime. To kill, to destroy, they were after all the enders of dreams.
A low-rank like himself had no chance of surviving this battle, but survival was not important. He just wished he would find a few enemies he could defeat before coming face to face with one of the more powerful.
And finally, a spark of yellow in the rain. The Specter knew then he would die without defeating an enemy for his Lord, but at least he would make sure to draw blood, to weaken the Gold saint so that the next specter may have a chance.
word count: ~260
disclaimer: Because I'd never give a lawyer such an easy target, no claims of ownership are made over StS and/or/with/at/in/of its derivative works. These, (together - i assume- with some home furniture, books and underwear) belong to Kurumada and Toei.
066 - Rain
He couldn’t see more than a few meters away, but he knew they were there. They, the enemy. Hoards of them, probably, thick as a sea of grass. He could hear their footsteps, heavy armored bodies pressing hard on the mud.
So this was it, this was THE battlefield. This was the moment he had prepared for, the one instant to which every minute of his life had bean meant for. For years, every second of his waking life, he had lived and relived this. They had made sure he was ready for it.
Then, why was he so scared? It wasn’t death that frightened him, it couldn’t be. He had prayed for it to come for him many times, and he had made his peace with death long ago. So what, then?
The rain picked up, heavy droplets falling on his helmet, on his face. The sounds of the approaching enemy grew louder; they would be on him anytime. To kill, to destroy, they were after all the enders of dreams.
A low-rank like himself had no chance of surviving this battle, but survival was not important. He just wished he would find a few enemies he could defeat before coming face to face with one of the more powerful.
And finally, a spark of yellow in the rain. The Specter knew then he would die without defeating an enemy for his Lord, but at least he would make sure to draw blood, to weaken the Gold saint so that the next specter may have a chance.