Venting

twin blade

Well-Known Member
#1
ItÆs been five years or so, since he died.

ItÆs been two years since the failed resurrection.

And she was still moping, still waking up hugging empty air, still trying to reclaim that something that was lost a long time ago.

She should have moved on by now, butàshe couldnÆt.

She loved him. She wanted him by her side, not for forever, but at least longer then what she had.

It wasnÆt fair! It wasnÆt fair, it wasnÆt fair, it just wasnÆt! He had promised itÆd be quick, that there wasnÆt any danger at all!

But he just had to get himself killed!

She screamed into her pillow, muffling the sound so that the other person in the house wouldnÆt wake up.

Because heÆd know why she was crying, why she was screaming, and then û

No, donÆt go there. It was bad enough dealing with him on a regular basis.

She missed him, missed everything about him. His voice, his humor, how he held her when they slept, how he never fought with her.

àBut if she were to be honest, that last part wasàannoying. They never screamed, never hurled insults, never shouted - but ænever foughtÆ included the physical as well as the emotional.

So, there was never that rush. The feeling of the wind rushing past her face, the adrenalin pumping through her veins, punches and kicks, bodies being thrown to the ground, the sound of clashing metal, the screaming and yelling and the simple venting that came with punching and being punched in return.

She could remember times when they did fight, even though it wasnÆt really her that was fighting.

Back then, if they ever got angry with each other, theyÆd just go to a small, inconspicuous clearing, and then the process would start.

HeÆd rile her up some more, or try to û but she usually got angry. SheÆd stick her arm out, hand wide open, and shoot out a giant beam of light, screaming ôShut the fuck up!ö or ôFuck off and die!ö, and heÆd jump to the side, or just stand there and block it with a spell û heÆd start screaming too, after, and make a sword out of pure energy and charge - she would just jump backwards, sending out beam after beam after beam, or maybe sheÆs send energy into her arms or legs and charge at him, sword versus fist, and soon after the screams and insults and death threats turned into playful taunts and laughs, as they cheerfully destroyed everything around them.

àHe never did fight like that with her. He trained her, taught her how to throw a punch and make that sword of shining light, but they never went to a clearing like that.

àThere was always tension, in the air. Not as much as now, when it hurt for her to be in the same room as heràresponsibility, but there was always something.

àAfter their fights, he and the past-her would always make up, always end the night with smiles, always evaporate the tension between them û

No, no, it was a foolish idea. She hated the new him, and he felt the same way about her.

Butàbut it wasnÆt really hate, was it? Frustration, annoyance, anger for sure, butàno, thereÆs no hatred.

àShe was disappointed with him, because the new him and the old him weren't the same. He was disappointed in her, because she wanted him to turn back time, go back to how he was before his death.

She smiled to herself, eyes closed her eyes in contemplation.

It wasnÆt a sudden epiphany. She knew it from the start. She just didnÆt care enough to change her actions.

...Soàshe could try to change now. Maybe that idea will work.

There was a package on the floor, in front of his door.

-----------------------------------

There was only one other person living in the house, so he wasnÆt expecting much from her small ægiftÆ.

And it wasnÆt much. A pair of bracers that reached his arm, greaves that fit just perfectly. Each item was marked, black symbols all over the leather.

She had left a note, too, but all it said was æSame place.Æ The whole situation surprised him û she hadnÆt left her room in weeks.

Itàwas a good sign, right? She finally left her room, wanted to do somethingà

So, he put on her gift û they didnÆt really fit, they were too small; he tried to remember himself, planned what to say and when to say it û and left.

-----------------------------------

She was sitting on a boulder, playing with a pen.

He was standing there, waiting for her to speak.

And the first words out of her mouth were ôFerre, scream for me?ö

He drew back, slightly. She didnÆt seem to notice him - acted as though her request wasnÆt worrying, acted as though finally calling him by his name wasnÆt odd.

No, she didnÆt seem to notice at all. All she did was grin at him, still tossing the pen up and down.

And then a click of the pen.

Suddenly, the pen was covered in visible, red-colored energy, and as she gave a few practice swings, the energy began to focus into the tip of the pen, began to move away from the tip, extending into a blade of energy.

And she held the pen to the side now, held the weapon in a reverse grip. She slid off the boulder, still smiling, walked toward her.

ôIÆm going to try to hurt you as much as possible. I want you to do the same, alright? Soàjust do what comes natural.ö

Oh God, sheÆs snapped.

But before he could say anything, or run away, or do something, her arm was swinging forward, the blade suddenly a foot or two longer, and all he could do was tuck in his head and try to protect it with his arms û

A second. A heartbeat. The hum of energy.

He opened his eyes, looked to the left, saw the blade of energy inches from his arm.

His glowing, energy covered arm.

His other arm, his shins û they were covered as well.

He turned his head to look straight, saw her staring right at him. Her smile seemedàbetter, safer.

ôAre you ready now, Ferre?ö

She used his name again.

He closed his eyes for a second, as she moved into a defensive stance, the blade on her pen turning back into the size of a dagger.

When he opened his eyes, one hand was in front of him, the other cocked back for a punch. He grinned.

ôHell yes!ö

-----------------------------------

She was too far from him, so what was he do û

She fell flat on the ground, letting the beam he shot out fly harmlessly above her. It started, no time to think go go!

She slashed in front of her, blade quickly extending to make up for the distance, trying to cut through his feet. He jumped backwards, increasing the distance, but it gave her time to stand back up û

Before she could steady herself, he was already closing the distance, an open mouth smile on û

She got distracted, and he was readying another beam. She charged, he fired, she lowered her body so that it missed, and she swung û

But he was already in the air, and the most she did was nick his soles. SheÆs seen this before, knows what will happen next, so she grips the pen, one hand over the other, and swings upward at him.

Another click of the pen, and the energy has detached itself, now flying at him, ready to cut him in half.

But she knows it wonÆt happen, jumps back as fast as she can to get away from him.

Because heÆs spinning in midair, the energy surrounding his greaves focusing into his foot, and she braces herself as he fires a beam from his foot, hitting her wave of energy, neutralizing itû

The loud explosion makes her deaf, the shockwave pushes her back, and the light flash almost blinds her. The boulder she was hiding behind took most of the blast, was almost blown away.

Why did he never do this with her? This was so much fun!

She peeked out, saw Ferre land on a tree branch on the opposite side of the clearing. Damn it, the explosion should have made him fly further away.

She turned on the sword again, waited for the energy to flow back into the pen. She knew that he needed to recover the energy as well, so itÆd be fine.

Her sword was ready. She carefully, slowly, stabbed and cut through the boulder, making sure that her blade wasnÆt peaking out through the rock. She backed away from the rock, moved clockwise, so that sheÆd hit the tree he was on.

Another swing, another wave of energy. It hit the boulder, sending it flying, the pieces of the rock acting like shotgun pellets û

And he was already in the air, one shin still glowing û was glowing, another of those fucking leg beams destroying her boulder protectile.

But there was still one piece flying at him, and without a beam to propel him, he wasnÆt getting out of the û

And she was charging her sword, willing it to go faster, because he somehow landed on the rock and used it to push forward and he was a human rocket and it was ready and she swung but û

He landed on her, pushed her into the ground, and there was frustration and anger and pain as the friction of the ground began to destroy her back because they were both still sliding on the ground and she couldnÆt breathe anymore and her pen was humming feet away and she sucked at hand to hand combat and she. Just. Lost.

He got off her, walked away, as she tried to get up, leaning on a tree for support. It hurt to move, she could barely stand up, even with her hand on the tree.

Butàthe next partsàwere hazy. She could remember him pocketing the pen, carrying her on his back, taking of her clothes and bandaging the wounds, rubbing the bruises from his tackle with oils.

There were a lot of things. But she couldnÆt remember it all û just that he took care of her.

She was warm, at peace. ThatÆs all that mattered.

-----------------------------------

àShe could do this. She could do this.

She breathed heavily, walked down the stairs.

He was making breakfast as usual. It was the same routine. He would make breakfast, she would wake up, and they would eat, and then leave each other alone.

But, todayàthere was less tension. He wasnÆt tensed up, and she noticed that she wasnÆt biting her lip yet.

ôàGood morning, Ferre.ö

He flinched at his name. Yes, this would have to be the first step. Start calling him by name, stop overlapping him and the him from before.

She could do this, she could do this.

He turned around, looked into her eyes. A second, a heartbeat. Then a smile.

ôGood morning.ö

He turned back to the stove, making sure nothing was burnt. She sighed in relief, as she felt more of the tension fade away.

She could do this.
 

biigoh

Well-Known Member
#2
Venting, IF Entry 2-5
Code:
English: 19/20
Details: 18/20
Theme: 18/20
Story: 18/20
Other: 18/20
TOTAL: 91/100
And this is the 3rd entry where I'm not sure of the fandom. The names and setup just aren't ringing any bells. But that's fine as it means I have to work with ONLY what you show. In short, your words must bear the load.

Outside of "protectile" (projectile), I can see no errors in your writing.

Theme and story-wise, the theme does mesh well with what you're doing as the protagonist slowly adapts to 'Ferre' and her failure.

This entry is a meaty one, like a baby-back rib that you have to work your way through, the meat coated with a layer of sauce that gives the meat that extra flavor. And then, there is that smokey flavor that you can smell as it cooked and which causes you to salivate even before you bite in. Well done.

This is my judgment and I stand by it.
 

Halibel Lecter

Well-Known Member
#3
Readability: 17
Details: 18
Theme: 20
Plot: 15
Opinion: 18
Total: 88

Quite a lively dish. The tableside flambe was a very nice touch-- plenty of action. Though the cook himself says he quote-unquote "sucks" at this sort of cooking, it wasn't bad at all, choppy, with a few errors but not many, spinning and moving quickly to a conclusion. The conclusion was nice in and of itself-- a sweet, almost positive take on the prompt. Well done.
 
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