"Oh, fuck."
West looked upward as the sky darken, the epithet taken from his lips by the rising winds.
He thought he'd been ready for a Manifestation. A few ractains, maybe something worse. Whatever would show up, he was confident he could kill it.
How do you kill a storm?
An Obrimos. He should have known. And him, an Acanthus. He lacked the raw power to change weather -- and he doubted he could disperse an Abyssal storm. On top of it all, his ability to Shield against lightning was... middling, at best.
Thoughts flickered through his mind: possible solutions, mitigations. He settled on one.
The Gym... no. Fatespinners... no.
His first thoughts, he discarded. The storm could follow. It might chase the source of it's fury. He needed somewhere... isolated.
The thoughts took only a moment, and he dropped, wrapping his arms around his Apprentice, both to get the required contact, and to protect her. He spun threads wrapped in Mana, covering the spell in a protective layer to ease the passage of power across the Abyss; first, for her, then for himself, laying a trigger on hers to activate on the completion of the second spell.
Cool, storm-darkened afternoon skies disappeared in a white hot blaze of mid-day. The wind was still there, whipping across both of them, but carrying a thick, pungent odor. Salty decay and acidic metallic odors thick enough to taste. Rocks below shifted with their sudden weight, and they sank slightly into wet mud. With the overwhelming brightness fading, dark monoliths began to take form.
Boxy shapes, towers, and huge skeletal forms that resolved into the cargo and cruise ship carcasses that littered the shoreline of the Chittagong ship-breaking yards.
http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/...ear-Ch-013.jpg
The feeling was horrible, the soul crushing slime that lingered. Like it wanted to become a part of her. It was wrong, so wrong. And then there was West, she could hear the chimes that sounded magic as they wrapped around her, even through the pain and the wind it was striking.
She wanted to curl tighter, or move.
RUN!
She couldn’t.
The dichotomy was almost as painful as what was in her, How could anyone like this.
And she was trying to get the tears to stop, and that was when the vertigo hit ... and the salt. And the mud.
Her eyes flew open, she wanted to arch in the other direction, but he was there, over her. He had brought her here.
Why?
She froze, it felt wrong, the pain didn’t matter anymore, and she didn’t know what to do. Even her breath stilled.
What was he going to do?
“West?” Her voice was small, she could feel it hollow, scared, barely a whisper.
To Be Continued
Draft this Post
