| Subject: Strange Hope |
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Date Posted: 22:00:08 10/07/02 Mon
Close the books.
Listen to my words.
No matter what anyone tells you in this life, perhaps even in the next, Time doesn't matter to those who are consumed with passion, whatever it may be.
Time is a paradox, it is a swift tiger within those happy times, yet it remains a sloth during the depression that engulfs us within a black abyss.
These feelings, all of them, resided within my soul. Or should I say new soul? I was unlike anything I ever was, yet truly more myself then ever before. As if during this change I look back in retrospect, and see myself more true to my ideals then ever before.
My name is Kiasin Hikoui.
So pleasant it is, to feel the blades of grass rush underneath my feet, to feel the soft earth emit a pleasant cool feeling between my child like toes, a soft breeze reflecting the pleasant almost euphoria mood, the moonlight only a added visual effect.
Yet I can't linger in this paradise of the hunt, my old goals, and new, seem to draw me ever more deeper in my old obsession. I worry now, over my father, whom I look now with more respect then ever before, yet I can't reach him now, despite how my heart bleeds. I know a truth about his illness, and I doubt, in my child like understanding of the metaphysical and how it regards the material, that he shall live.
But he is my father.
But the hunt carries on. As always. My saiya-jin blood as hot as white fire as it sings to me of battles, both past and future, making my swift flight across the fields of grass that now linger within a cool eerie forest, branches whipping acorss my face as if speaking with actions of the rude saiya-jin entering without proper ethic...the thought almost made the boy laugh despite how serious this hunt was.
The pain was almost as pleasant as the earth beneath him, reminding him of the cold reality of the danger, so enticing, so enchanting, it drew him deeper in the spiral that consumed his father.
The thoughts were suddenly pushed away feverishly, his prey now within sight, though not within his sight upon this world, enhanced senses, probing for more subtle things then sight and smell, sensed his object of battle lust and fury.
Five of them.....hmmm..perhaps I shouldn't have...ah what the hell..
He was the manifestion of the Hunter, impossibly silent and swift as he moved upwards across the tree limbs, as agile as any forest animal having adapted to such a beautiful home, yet the hunt was no mere deer or even a panther..
Vampires.
He hated them with all his burning soul. More so then ever now, for he felt the keen bite they have put upon his new, changed soul. He knew..deep down, exactly what he was, and it disgusted him to be such a runt, and yet somewhere, deep within the core that forever remained the same Kiasin, He embraced the change.
The vampires senses too were keen, though with such creatures, they regard that none of Earth's sacred gifts, life, would ever have such ablities.
Much to their regard, they were mistaken. Quiet a fatal mistake. The boy suddenly lancing admist the orgy of pain and a horrid feasting of blood. His own blood, burning hotter under the beating hammer of his soul, crafted a weapon that would not a hurt a single living being of good...yet a terrible..fey weapon against those that turn away from Terra. As Fate looked down, tipping the scales of Karma swiftly, as one of the dark skinned creatures, dressed in clothes one would regonize as perhaps a Ranger, feasting upon a young lass, his eyes looking up brieftly from the esctasy of feeding...to see a glowing being.
He saw nothing else, a graceful dance of energy expanding out of the boy, who appeared to do nothing but dance around the group, his body a complete blur to even the vampiric gaze of the undead. Bright silver lights dancing about him, as he craved the moon into some slender pieces, and danced with them in such a way they seemed to be a simple extension of himself.
Scimitars he mouthed briefly, knowing the question even as he sheathed his wonderful moonstruck blades. He still didn't know who left them behide..but he..simply knew how to use those deadly blades, how to weave them in a dance of graceful death.
He sighed, it was too late to safe the victims, but at least their souls were avenged by the dance that silenced the killers torture upon their bodies..their perverison of life ended.
He sighed seemed to be mimiced by the wind, catching his black cloak as it swayed with its movements, as if gently singing for the dead. His night blue hair tumbling gently over his green eyes, shining with a light not unlike moon as it shown somewhat waxing in the heavens. Dressed in a simple studdedn leather clothing and leggings...the boots having decayed under the rapid movement of the Saiyajin..or should he say Forgotten?
He sighed, tapping his sheathed scimitars briefly, and started walking into the night, sniffing the sweet air for any more to slay. He knew the answer..none. Too close to sunrise, the clever ones knowing that was the perfect time for someone to hunt them during the critical moment as they go towards where ever they lay.
He wanted to do two things during that moment, even as he slowly again questioned his morals and what he considered ideal, slaying the lackies seemed to do nothing at all..yet he knew he wasn't ready for big game..not yet.
He wanted two things. To be taught by two people..to fully realize this strange new potential that caught him either in a battle frezny...or in some strange eldrich strange hold of power...
Zenra Nor'Shan...
and his Father.
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