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 Like worms, reaching for the heavens ( Tag: Open )

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Asher Gheri

Asher Gheri

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Male Posts : 47

Like worms, reaching for the heavens ( Tag: Open ) Empty
PostSubject: Like worms, reaching for the heavens ( Tag: Open )   Like worms, reaching for the heavens ( Tag: Open ) I_icon_minitimeTue Nov 05, 2013 9:56 am

Dead eyes opened, to a darkness that was far too familiar. It was the same blackness he’d seen when he’d first opened his eyes, and when he’d looked up into the black Spiran night. It made little sense to him – the last thing he’d done was to pass through the Gate. Why, then, was his body buried again? It was not the same as last time – there were thoughts… echoes of memory that blanketed his senses. But it was still silent. There was no dignity in his burial – and the Doctor was not here to raise him again. His arms remained pinned on either side of him, as dirt and grime weighed heavily upon him. Eyelids did little to protect him from dirt – and had he been anything other than himself, he would have died from simple compression.

But, as always, he simply was who he was. The boy from the land of the dark. There was the tiniest of sensations along his ear – something small, burrowing, moving the dirt to reach him. After what seemed like an eternity, the sensation finally became warm, as something cold and damp touched his ear. He felt his nature reach toward it, and shed the blackness within into its system – and he heard the sudden screech of a rodent of some sort. It had only seconds left to live – the less complex a creature, the faster his plague ended it. It came to a quiet end next to him… expiring without much more than a whisper in his ear. A whisper of the story…

The child awoke, and found himself restless. He had little to do, and no air to breathe – but he still had his strength.
Strength that could be used to free himself, as had been done once before.
It was time for it to crawl again.

It was short – perhaps a single page from a story that Eriol had yet to comprehend. But it was a true statement, and so he moved.

The earth was resistant – stone claws, and wooden roots trying to bind him in place. It was as though Gaia herself had deemed him unworthy of walking her flesh, and she was using every resource to keep the abomination within her womb. But it wasn’t enough. Never had it been before. He let out a breath, and pressed against it, muscles barely tensing. The chains that wrapped around him were tight – weighted perfectly to wrap him in cold metal. It started small – nudges of his hands and fingers, gradually forcing the dirt on either side of him to make way. He worked, wriggling his form like a worm in the first rain of the summer, attracted inexorably upwards. He could hear the quiet sounds of grass, begging him to stay below.

It was with no small amount of satisfaction that his fingers broke the surface of the earth, pushing aside the still-cold dirt that wished to keep him entrenched. It took several minutes of digging to pull himself into open air once again. He took one deep albeit unnecessary breath, and groaned pale skin practically glowing in the soft night light. The thick cloth of his shirt was tattered and torn – a nuisance, as he’d actually purchased this shirt for the feel of it on his skin. No matter. The important part – the hole that exposed the chain along his back – was untouched. Beneath the cloth, the black metal links travelled into what might only be called a festering wound, attaching itself solidly to bleached white bone. The loops of metal led into the dirt he’d dug himself up from, as the young looking individual finally got to standing.

Reaching back with casual ease, his fingers tightened around a length of chain, and he tugged, hard. No longer confined by the earth, he had access to his full strength once more, and with it, he unearthed Plaguebringer – his only weapon. In response to his pull, the ground gave way to the metal, until finally, the monstrous black sword was unearthed as he was. He tilted his head, thoughtfully, as his fingers followed the chain into his back. Just to the left of the hole in his back, he could feel it there, pulsing with something that resonated all but perfectly with him. The black orb, marked with the signet of Death, one of the horsemen of the apocalypse, was buried within his flesh. It had come with him through the gate, it seemed. The cool feel of it on his fingers sent something almost pleasurable through his body, and he cracked a rarely-seen smile.

( WC 777 )
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