((Definitely going to incorporate this memory loss as soon as I can into my RP in-game. What a great concept!))
Nhalki's blind rage sparks fiercely as an unfamiliar sensation creeps across her scalp. She shudders, and suddenly can't discern whether her left arm has ceased its frustrated clawing due to exhaustion or something else. Her tail's fur stands on end when she hears the hyur's voice echo as her own thoughts would.
"You're sleepy."
"Your mind is going blank."
"Now... where is your will to fight?"
"I don't think you need that, now... do you?"
What remains of her consciousness clings angrily to lucidity. It struggles against this foreign voice as if it were an unwelcome thought or nightmare. Beyond her thoughts, her emaciated form sinks toward the road. She can just barely smell the heavy rain that continues to soak the road, the muddy chocobos and the richly fragrant fish.
The concrete images tied to these scents abruptly mingle with an overwhelmingly vivid memory...
"This be how ye pick one out, Ki."
The spirited voice of a teenaged girl. The scene shows dusk setting over a trail that winds through green and golden fields and shallow valleys. The vantage barely can see over the tall grass and directly in the field of vision two tiny, dirty hands grip an already-bloodied tomahawk.Â
Eyes turn to look up at a tall, beautiful Sea Wolf girl crouched a fulm away: wavy, black hair swept behind an ear and silver eyes focused across the plain to the road below. The girl presses a full-sized bhuj against the grass below, hiding it from view as she kneels down to whisper.
"The Crows'll always travel in pairs, ye see. See the archer? Aye. If ye can crack 'is skull 'afore the other gets a chance to charge us, the battle's good as won. Aim fer it, just like ye would one o' them toad's great big eyeballs. Just like I showed ye."
A warm smile accompanies these instructions as the roegadyn lass looks directly to the tomahawk's holder. With a reassuring nod and grin, the girl grips the handle of her bhuj and motions for the viewer to attack the pair of pirates that seem to be patrolling the road below their position. What ensues is the bloody, ungainly slaughter of the pirates and the ensuing feast of stolen rations.
An incredible sense of affection permeates this memory, for a moment. It then begins to slip away, detail by detail. Somewhere in the depths of I'nhalki's consciousness there is an urgent, dire sense of panic. The minutest of minute wisps of aether vainly pushes back against whatever magic the hyur employs.
Nhalki's blind rage sparks fiercely as an unfamiliar sensation creeps across her scalp. She shudders, and suddenly can't discern whether her left arm has ceased its frustrated clawing due to exhaustion or something else. Her tail's fur stands on end when she hears the hyur's voice echo as her own thoughts would.
"You're sleepy."
"Your mind is going blank."
"Now... where is your will to fight?"
"I don't think you need that, now... do you?"
What remains of her consciousness clings angrily to lucidity. It struggles against this foreign voice as if it were an unwelcome thought or nightmare. Beyond her thoughts, her emaciated form sinks toward the road. She can just barely smell the heavy rain that continues to soak the road, the muddy chocobos and the richly fragrant fish.
The concrete images tied to these scents abruptly mingle with an overwhelmingly vivid memory...
"This be how ye pick one out, Ki."
The spirited voice of a teenaged girl. The scene shows dusk setting over a trail that winds through green and golden fields and shallow valleys. The vantage barely can see over the tall grass and directly in the field of vision two tiny, dirty hands grip an already-bloodied tomahawk.Â
Eyes turn to look up at a tall, beautiful Sea Wolf girl crouched a fulm away: wavy, black hair swept behind an ear and silver eyes focused across the plain to the road below. The girl presses a full-sized bhuj against the grass below, hiding it from view as she kneels down to whisper.
"The Crows'll always travel in pairs, ye see. See the archer? Aye. If ye can crack 'is skull 'afore the other gets a chance to charge us, the battle's good as won. Aim fer it, just like ye would one o' them toad's great big eyeballs. Just like I showed ye."
A warm smile accompanies these instructions as the roegadyn lass looks directly to the tomahawk's holder. With a reassuring nod and grin, the girl grips the handle of her bhuj and motions for the viewer to attack the pair of pirates that seem to be patrolling the road below their position. What ensues is the bloody, ungainly slaughter of the pirates and the ensuing feast of stolen rations.
An incredible sense of affection permeates this memory, for a moment. It then begins to slip away, detail by detail. Somewhere in the depths of I'nhalki's consciousness there is an urgent, dire sense of panic. The minutest of minute wisps of aether vainly pushes back against whatever magic the hyur employs.
