|Ashura-ou (TRC Version - NOT FAI'S NOT!DADDY) (wishmadeinfire) wrote in marinasylum,|
@ 2011-03-28 22:01:00
|Entry tags:||:action, arianna vard, ashura, wolfram von bielefeld|
[Voice/Action || Open] Forward Dated to Mid-Morning
[It was early, but that was fine. Ashura had had trouble sleeping anyways. He was usually not scared of the dark, but in the recent days he had been plagued by memories. In the darkness he had seen those things made real, at least to his mind. It made for not much sleep and stress, though he hid it well enough, he thought.
And the best way to work through stress? Just that - work through it.
So he was at the beach, the waters licking at his bare feet, his sword in hand. It had cost him to summon it, with Acumen's restrictions being what they were (or, well, they were Sentience's originally, but Acumen had not seen fit to change them), but that was fine. He needed it. Maybe being bone weary would make sleep possible - tolerable.
Licking his lips, tasting the false salt in the spray of water, he raised his blade and began the dance of death he had danced so many times before, so many nights, though they had not been as dark as the one last night. His blade arched like a rainbow through the air, his limbs thrusting and kicking in balance with the blade, an assault of deadly beauty. Everything was liquid, and yet precise, his breathing even and calm to counter the swift movements.
And then his eyes glowed, the pupils a cat-like slit, and fire burst to life, tracing lines through the air from his blade, his fingers, his very will. They swirled and snapped like dragons, cracking like whips as they ate the air, hissing as they beat against the water. Rage, pain, frustration, his own fears - it came out in those flames, everything until there was nothing left and he stood amidst a circle of kicked up sand, sweating and struggling to keep his calm breathing.]