Blood of a Deimos
Feb. 1st, 2009 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esp_dragonFandom: Arc: Twilight of the Spirits
Summary: "Don't come near me!"
Rating: T
Notes: Spoilers for near the middle of the game. Nothing big.
Talking dialogue is from the game. Took out some of the rest of the dialogue though.
Rated for swearing.
Genre: General
Word count: 738
Status: Complete
"That thing is one of us? Show us your true colours, demon!"
He... He couldn't have heard that right. He couldn't have. "I'm a demon. Me...?" His father... was a Deimos? There was Deimos blood running through his veins?
He couldn't breathe. It wasn't true. It wasn't. How could he be part Deimos? He didn't look like any of those bastards; no scales, wings or horns. Completely human.
But he could use magic, just like a Deimos. Not because he was special, but because he was some half-breed freak? A violation of nature?
He was feeling dizzy, lightheaded. Almost like the first time he had used magic. It was different though, more concentrated in one area of his body but less focused. It wasn't drawing in energy from him like the other times he had used magic. It was doing something, but what exactly, he couldn't tell.
No. He couldn't be - but he could feel it. Feel something growing, feel the skin on his back stretching as something moved under it.
Pain.
He screamed as the wings -wings- tore through muscles and skin. It was as if he had been hit by a close-range fire spell, it burned so strongly. And it wasn't that he could only feel something jutting out of his back, but he could feel the breeze on the wing's membrane and they felt like another set of arms, just with different proportions.
Just. Ha.
The townspeople had ran away in fear, leaving him alone with his friends behind him. He turned to them, waiting to see how they would react, already knowing at the bottom of his heart what they would do.
"Don't come near me!" Her father was killed in front of her eyes by Deimos.
For Maru, Deimos had continually been stealing his food while he'd been living in the forest.
For Ganz, they had killed his last closest living friend.
And Tatjana... She was looking at him like he was something to study, a puzzle in front of her for her to solve.
All of them with hate in their eyes. Fear. Betrayal. He couldn't stay there, with his friends -not anymore- looking at him like that. He ran through them, hoping that he was wrong, that they would maybe try to stop him, but they didn't.
But who would want to be friends with a freak like him?
He jumped to climb the castle ruins and his wings extended on their own. A few seconds of fear and breathlessness but he was still there, in the sky. Flying. He was flying, his wings adjusting to everything on their own. Or did he know how to do all this along? Some sort of flying Deimos instinct that he was born with? Not an illusion that was created by a spell.
He closed his eyes and let the wings do what they were meant to do. Just focus on the sensations of flying and forget about everything, if only for a little while.
When he opened them again, he recognised Scrappe Plateau coming closer. Before he'd begun to try to figure out in what way to move his new limbs, he was already gliding towards it.
Landing was also instinctual. It didn't matter; he went down on his knees as soon as his feet touched the ground.
Everything was a lie. His entire life was a lie. He wasn't a prince; he wasn't even fully human! He had the blood and instincts of the stinking Deimos. But not all. He didn't attack everything on sight and his words weren't backed up by snarls and barks. He inspected the hands that were pressed against the ground in front of him. No claws. And - and he only grew wings when he had acknowledged that there was a possibility of Deimos blood running through him. So maybe, if he thought that he was completely human, the wings would disappear...?
A few minutes later of trying, he gave up. He couldn't say that he was completely human, not when he had proof against it. Or maybe once they had grown, they would never go again. Not unless he cut them off.
He paused at the thought. If he cut them off, he would still look human; nothing else had grown that would mark him as someone with Deimos blood.
With that in mind, he reached for his sword, bracing himself for pain once again.
Summary: "Don't come near me!"
Rating: T
Notes: Spoilers for near the middle of the game. Nothing big.
Talking dialogue is from the game. Took out some of the rest of the dialogue though.
Rated for swearing.
Genre: General
Word count: 738
Status: Complete
"That thing is one of us? Show us your true colours, demon!"
He... He couldn't have heard that right. He couldn't have. "I'm a demon. Me...?" His father... was a Deimos? There was Deimos blood running through his veins?
He couldn't breathe. It wasn't true. It wasn't. How could he be part Deimos? He didn't look like any of those bastards; no scales, wings or horns. Completely human.
But he could use magic, just like a Deimos. Not because he was special, but because he was some half-breed freak? A violation of nature?
He was feeling dizzy, lightheaded. Almost like the first time he had used magic. It was different though, more concentrated in one area of his body but less focused. It wasn't drawing in energy from him like the other times he had used magic. It was doing something, but what exactly, he couldn't tell.
No. He couldn't be - but he could feel it. Feel something growing, feel the skin on his back stretching as something moved under it.
Pain.
He screamed as the wings -wings- tore through muscles and skin. It was as if he had been hit by a close-range fire spell, it burned so strongly. And it wasn't that he could only feel something jutting out of his back, but he could feel the breeze on the wing's membrane and they felt like another set of arms, just with different proportions.
Just. Ha.
The townspeople had ran away in fear, leaving him alone with his friends behind him. He turned to them, waiting to see how they would react, already knowing at the bottom of his heart what they would do.
"Don't come near me!" Her father was killed in front of her eyes by Deimos.
For Maru, Deimos had continually been stealing his food while he'd been living in the forest.
For Ganz, they had killed his last closest living friend.
And Tatjana... She was looking at him like he was something to study, a puzzle in front of her for her to solve.
All of them with hate in their eyes. Fear. Betrayal. He couldn't stay there, with his friends -not anymore- looking at him like that. He ran through them, hoping that he was wrong, that they would maybe try to stop him, but they didn't.
But who would want to be friends with a freak like him?
He jumped to climb the castle ruins and his wings extended on their own. A few seconds of fear and breathlessness but he was still there, in the sky. Flying. He was flying, his wings adjusting to everything on their own. Or did he know how to do all this along? Some sort of flying Deimos instinct that he was born with? Not an illusion that was created by a spell.
He closed his eyes and let the wings do what they were meant to do. Just focus on the sensations of flying and forget about everything, if only for a little while.
When he opened them again, he recognised Scrappe Plateau coming closer. Before he'd begun to try to figure out in what way to move his new limbs, he was already gliding towards it.
Landing was also instinctual. It didn't matter; he went down on his knees as soon as his feet touched the ground.
Everything was a lie. His entire life was a lie. He wasn't a prince; he wasn't even fully human! He had the blood and instincts of the stinking Deimos. But not all. He didn't attack everything on sight and his words weren't backed up by snarls and barks. He inspected the hands that were pressed against the ground in front of him. No claws. And - and he only grew wings when he had acknowledged that there was a possibility of Deimos blood running through him. So maybe, if he thought that he was completely human, the wings would disappear...?
A few minutes later of trying, he gave up. He couldn't say that he was completely human, not when he had proof against it. Or maybe once they had grown, they would never go again. Not unless he cut them off.
He paused at the thought. If he cut them off, he would still look human; nothing else had grown that would mark him as someone with Deimos blood.
With that in mind, he reached for his sword, bracing himself for pain once again.