Post by yagei on May 8, 2006 20:54:02 GMT -5
The crescent moon gave only the tiniest sliver of light, and even that was mostly obstructed by dark gray clouds. An unnatural overcast shoved thick fog and humid mist towards the earth, where the night was like liquid black. Two figures, both shrouded in matching black clothing, conversed in inaudible whispers, walking with surefooted-ness along a beaten dirt path. One of the figures was tall and lanky, with a commanding mature voice that demanded attention. The other was tall, but shorter than the other, and not as slim. It's voice was feminine but powerful, even though it showed submissive traces.
“Have you located him?”the first asked calmly, showing o sign of the swift pace he was setting.
“Yes, and all the threats as well. We'll have no interruptions if all goes well.” was the reply.
The man made no response, only a satisfied grunt, and quickened his pace, black trench coat fluttering. A distant chorus of howls tried to alarm them, but the woman's form showed only slight irritation at the far-off noise, creating a kind of eerie tempo. Finally the man spoke, his tone taking on a commanding warning.
“Re-check that everything, everything, is in place. I plan on having a meeting with him without any rescue attempts by a would-be hero.”he ordered sharply.
The woman halted immediately, as did the man, and she bowed with a ruffling of her coat.
“Yes, sir.”
She raised one hand, small and unhealthily pale, and muttered one word, incomprehensible. A tiny flicker of black (not noticed in the least) issued from around her frame, then she was gone. The man remained where he was, listening intently to the whistle of wind and song of the wolves. He sighed after awhile, and set off again as if he'd never stopped, black leather boots thumping rhythmically on the bits of rubble wedged into the sod pathway. He had been looking for his query for awhile...but he knew that there were plenty of compatible people that would sense his plan. He had no intention of letting anyone ruin his...recruiting...meeting.
~*~
Midnight couldn't peel his eyes, opaque black in the darkness instead of violet, from the handwritten parchment. The crisp whiteness was filled with swooping, elegant writing. An invitation stared out at him, and he reread it (the darkness was something he'd far past gotten over) for mayhap the tenth time within the hour he'd had it in his possession. How the raven that had dropped it on him knew where he was, he didn't know, which put his senses on the edge.
Midnight,
You have been officially invited to attend a ship cruise, all expenses paid, in the Alziane Ocean. The ship will depart from its harbor on nine o' clock one day from now. The host wishes to remain unknown, but will be on the ship to meet you before departure. If you accept this invitation, sign your name on the line below (a pen is attached), and teleportation to the city of departure will be supplied.
His eyes, as before, lingered suspiciously on the 'wishes to remain unknown', but he was also curious about how a signature would enable instant teleportation. As promised, there was a small black pen attached to the rolled up parchment, and Midnight clenched it doubtfully in his hand. The invite was riddled with suspicious information, but had the air to it that said 'you'd get involved anyways'. He sighed, his bobble drooping over his head as he leaned back on his branch-bed. His fur was damp from the mist and humidity, and he wiped his 'hair' back neatly before placing his pen to the paper, and signing quickly. He might change his mind otherwise. Nothing happened other than the parchment flashing in and out of view momentarily, and Midnight figured everyone invited (whoever that was) had to be given a chance to respond before the teleportation spell took affect.
The moogle fingered his sword in a reassuring way, stroking the deep, pure violet blade with warrior's precision. His magic might be more useful in dire needs, but Midnight felt a bond with the sword. He climbed a few branches higher, until his bobble popped out into fresh, icy cold air, and he sniffed the wind. Nothing important or catchable to his only-slightly-alleviated senses tickled his mind. Dropping back down to his hastily made nest of dry leaves and grasses on a lower bough, Midnight tried to sleep, maintaining a light, cat-like rest for the remainder of the night.
“Have you located him?”the first asked calmly, showing o sign of the swift pace he was setting.
“Yes, and all the threats as well. We'll have no interruptions if all goes well.” was the reply.
The man made no response, only a satisfied grunt, and quickened his pace, black trench coat fluttering. A distant chorus of howls tried to alarm them, but the woman's form showed only slight irritation at the far-off noise, creating a kind of eerie tempo. Finally the man spoke, his tone taking on a commanding warning.
“Re-check that everything, everything, is in place. I plan on having a meeting with him without any rescue attempts by a would-be hero.”he ordered sharply.
The woman halted immediately, as did the man, and she bowed with a ruffling of her coat.
“Yes, sir.”
She raised one hand, small and unhealthily pale, and muttered one word, incomprehensible. A tiny flicker of black (not noticed in the least) issued from around her frame, then she was gone. The man remained where he was, listening intently to the whistle of wind and song of the wolves. He sighed after awhile, and set off again as if he'd never stopped, black leather boots thumping rhythmically on the bits of rubble wedged into the sod pathway. He had been looking for his query for awhile...but he knew that there were plenty of compatible people that would sense his plan. He had no intention of letting anyone ruin his...recruiting...meeting.
~*~
Midnight couldn't peel his eyes, opaque black in the darkness instead of violet, from the handwritten parchment. The crisp whiteness was filled with swooping, elegant writing. An invitation stared out at him, and he reread it (the darkness was something he'd far past gotten over) for mayhap the tenth time within the hour he'd had it in his possession. How the raven that had dropped it on him knew where he was, he didn't know, which put his senses on the edge.
Midnight,
You have been officially invited to attend a ship cruise, all expenses paid, in the Alziane Ocean. The ship will depart from its harbor on nine o' clock one day from now. The host wishes to remain unknown, but will be on the ship to meet you before departure. If you accept this invitation, sign your name on the line below (a pen is attached), and teleportation to the city of departure will be supplied.
His eyes, as before, lingered suspiciously on the 'wishes to remain unknown', but he was also curious about how a signature would enable instant teleportation. As promised, there was a small black pen attached to the rolled up parchment, and Midnight clenched it doubtfully in his hand. The invite was riddled with suspicious information, but had the air to it that said 'you'd get involved anyways'. He sighed, his bobble drooping over his head as he leaned back on his branch-bed. His fur was damp from the mist and humidity, and he wiped his 'hair' back neatly before placing his pen to the paper, and signing quickly. He might change his mind otherwise. Nothing happened other than the parchment flashing in and out of view momentarily, and Midnight figured everyone invited (whoever that was) had to be given a chance to respond before the teleportation spell took affect.
The moogle fingered his sword in a reassuring way, stroking the deep, pure violet blade with warrior's precision. His magic might be more useful in dire needs, but Midnight felt a bond with the sword. He climbed a few branches higher, until his bobble popped out into fresh, icy cold air, and he sniffed the wind. Nothing important or catchable to his only-slightly-alleviated senses tickled his mind. Dropping back down to his hastily made nest of dry leaves and grasses on a lower bough, Midnight tried to sleep, maintaining a light, cat-like rest for the remainder of the night.