Smashing Silence With a Brick of Self Control (short story)
Title: Smashing Silence With a Brick of Self Control
Author: Yukito
Smears of crimson soiled the muted twilight hues of Yukito's armor, and streaked down his arms in thin, dripping rivulets. Huffs and roars echoes through the labyrinth, seemingly coming from every direction. His eyes drifted momentarily closed, causing the air to waver around his slender form and vigor to surge through his body. He gripped the rainbow glaes-headed maul in his hands more tightly, and let his own soft pants of exertion fill the tense atmosphere.
The walls of this place dripped with rage and blood lust. He wasn't typically open to emotions from places, or objects, and he firmly kept the emotions of others blocked out. Here though.. in these rooms and corridors, he could almost taste it; metal, leather, sweat, and blood. The cries of the fallen, and the victorious. He stood on the precipice of discovering more, of seeking out new battle fields, of finding and witnessing glory.
If he could only become stronger.
A sound to his left had him spinning to the side and shifting his hands along the haft of his maul. Fire flashed brightly and the minotaur that had disturbed his thoughts fell to the ground with a broken neck. He made quick work of procuring the hide and stripping the body of its loot, barely thinking of his actions, or the blood coating his delicate hands as he worked. It did take his mind to other places, however.
Callid.
He had been party to sewing together people's bodies to bring his family back from the dead. Objectively, Yukito was curious about the man's expertise. It was a shame that someone so gifted was willing to throw everything away on such an objective. He didn't care about who was harmed, or where he got his materials, he only cared about the end goal. It was his question about Grishom answered, in a way. "What does it take to become someone like him? Is there a moment of no return?"
Yes, there is.
Yukito stood up and lifted one hand. The remains of the minotaur drifted away on an illusory wind. Would that everything could be wrapped up so neatly. He could learn from what Callid had done. He could examine the atrocities performed, and compare them to atrocities in the past. There was still the matter of NOW, however. Could someone like Callid be saved? Eyreal couldn't be. Callid as well as had a confession letter, but it was arguable that he could be talked from his grief.
Who would take that responsibility? Who could? How would it be possible? These were things that Yukito had no answer for. It made him angry to not have these answers. The more he thought of it, the more helpless he felt. He wanted it all to get better. He needed answers. It all needed to be fixed it all somehow! Why were healers so helpless?! Why did people have to suffer? It was just so..!
Minotaurs charged into the room one after the other and tried to knock him off his feet. His weapon was knocked out his hands, causing the dune spirit at his side to flicker in worry and dart around looking for it. Yukito narrowed his eyes and began drawing circles of blue fire in the air; bones cracked and exploded around him in fountains of gore, causing the warriors to slide in slick puddles of their own blood as they attempted to get back to their feet. Yukito glanced to the side as his maul was placed back in his hand, and gave the spirit a fierce grin. It softly brushed against his side in quiet support, smelling of sun-warmed sands. Then he turned back to his foes as they charged.
He didn't realize until it was all over, but he had been howling and screaming out his pent up frustration and rage until every last one of them was dead. The stink of charred flesh, fur and blood was thick in the hair. A gash across his cheek tingled briefly before knitting itself together, not even leaving a scar in its wake.
He slung his maul over his shoulder and pulled out his skinning dagger. Silently, he knelt among the massive corpses and deftly began slicing.
"She" - Green Day