Name ;; Parzifal
Alias ;; Izal Gender ;; Hermaphrodite (both male and female) uses both "he" and "her" pronouns, but mainly "he/him" Element(s) ;; Fire and Blood Allegiance ;; The Scourge Rank ;; Knave -- Assassin Edits ;; Fusion/Chimera, One tracker ear, half set of blood horns, enlarged right front leg, enlarged left hind leg, incomplete pride male mane, scaled sides w/ spikes, visible element, scars, embedded spears, bone tail, Hetero Chromatic Eyes, IS INFERTILE Original Form ;; link to stash here |
History ;;
Cub ---> Adolescence
Parzifal grew up with his two parents in a nomadic pride on the edges of the Pride's borders. When food grew too scarce and the nomads that roamed the Unknown Lands too threatening, they crossed into the Pride Lands, weak and weary. There they begged the Alpha to let them rest for a couple of days to regain their strength. He agreed, and even offered them a place in the Pride. But the group refused, and so the Alpha bid them farewell, promising them protection if they were ever near the borders. Izal was a rather ignorant cub for living in the Unknown Lands. His parents worked tirelessly to keep him sheltered from a stark reality he had never considered. Had they lived in the Ravine, he was sure to have come face to face with death.. but with his paws hardened with travel, he never did. What Izal did know, however, was that the Pride had saved them. And ever since the day they had left its lands, he had idolized the lions living there. They were legends come to life, pure souls who fought to end evil. He didn't know who that evil was, but why did the specifics matter? He was simply fascinated by the fact that there were heroes in this world. // |
"RUN! TO THE BORDERS!"
He shivered at the memory. The sheer terror that had gripped him as they ran. Everything was a blur, but whether from his racing heart or the tears that stung his eyes he couldn't say. He was falling behind- he couldn't keep up with his pride, and the monsters' claws would tear at him until he was nothing but mangled flesh. He struggled to breathe but he was choking on his own sobs- A body slammed into him. A body. He lost control of his paws as he was flung to the side and sent rolling across the terrain. He heaved for breath, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate. That body had been one of the lions he had known all of his life... their bloody face was burned into his mind. Not that he could think much, not until he rolled to a stop under the roots of an Umoya tree. He barely dared to think as he dug away at the roots- scraping and scraping until his paws were swollen and bleeding. He didn't feel any of it, not through the numb shock and survival insticts that had kicked in. He curled up, but he couldn't sleep. Every sound was magnified, and his body screamed at him to run because death hunted him. After a while of heavy breathing and mumbling prayers for the Pride to come, something stole his attention. He thought he saw something from above. A lion, picking its way through the tree's roots. The roots seemed to roll back and out of its way, as if dreading to be touched. But something was horribly wrong with the lion.. its face was mangled, its eyes were dead, and it didn't seem quite real. The lion paused, wispy tendrils of light weaving through the air from around it like an aura. It was heavenly. It was hellish. It's gaze shifted directly to him, as if suddenly seeing, and with a rumble that resembled a voice, it said, "find them." When he could move, fear no longer paralyzing his limbs, he ran. The sight of what he could only call a ghost had scared him, badly. And what was worse was that the time he had been curled between the tree's roots, the air had tasted strangely sweet, and now he was nauseous and weak. His running was little more than a hurried, stumbling pace of a lion drunk. His stomach turned as he scanned the landscape, everything was spinning. But he was determined to find them. He knew that they would be safe, the Pride would have heard their calls. There was no other alternative. When he finally found them, it was the scent of new blood that had led them to their corpses. The stench of blood was enough to make him gag. He stood huddled among the bodies of lions he knew. They were dead- they were all dead. He retched softly, quietly, closing his eyes and trying to forget what he had already seen. So many limp bodies. He couldn't even count the dead, couldn't force his limbs to move to see if anyone had made it. He sat numbly. "The Pride was supposed to come." He whispered. They had promised protection, promised that they would be there if they needed it. But they were only empty promises. The Pride weren't heroes, they weren't saviors. Heroes would've been there when he needed them. Heroes would have shown up when he was crouched in the darkness, shaking from head to toe in fear and praying for someone to show up and stop the atrocity being committed. And if he were a hero, he would have died alongside them. Instead, he hid. Now he was crouched among their bodies. A sound brought his attention upwards, and he opened his eyes, moving to see what it was. His heart thumped. He barely dared to hope that it was a survivor. But no, it was a lion, prowling the remains. Blood coated his coat- was he one of the murderers? Parzifal sucked in a long breath. Too late he realized that a few had decided to regroup and search the corpses, and here he was in plain sight. He ran. He didn't get far before he was spotted. The lion he had been watching before caught sight of the movement and then gave chase. It was over before it had even begun, for his long strides were nothing to that of the cub's he hunted. Too quickly he was overtaken, and slammed into the ground, rolling a few paces. His breath was knocked out of him, and yet he struggled to speak. "Wait, wait!" He begged. The lion that had killed a dozen more around him stopped, but only for a second. A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips. The cub thought he would provide mercy. How cute. "Why should I?" He rumbled. He continued forward, pinning the cub to the ground, and digging his claws in. "One who begs doesn't deserve to live, that's not how this works." Parzifal kept his face neutral, despite the claws that drew blood from his shoulder. He struggled to come up with a response, and his eyes darted from side to side. There was no way out- swallowing his pride hadn't worked, and now he would die a coward. Figures. He thought he deserved this, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding all over again. He wasn't sure how painful death would be. He couldn't stop himself as his limbs began kicking out. He didn't want to die. But the lion above him seemed preoccupied. He had gone quiet as he heard a slight hissing sound emerge from his skin. His wounds seemed to be stitching themselves up. He gave a low snarl at the pain, but Parzifal could see the wheels turning in the lion's mind. He was considering something, and when he looked down, it was a predatory gaze that met the cub's eyes. "You're a healer," the lion stated. Drawled, really. "You've wasted quite a bit of my time.. but perhaps you could repay me." A grin spread over his features, and slowly, painfully, he drew his claws out of Parzifal's flesh. As soon as they left, his skin began steaming, and the wound closed. The lion only hummed, clearly delighted at the sight. In his eyes, the cub was nothing but a tool, and a rather precious one to be found in the Unknown Lands. "Welcome to the Rebellion." |
Adolescence ---> Adulthood
This was a rough time for Izal. He was an unwilling recruit into the Rebellion and forced into the war. He stumbled behind the lines and cauterized any wounds he could, even though these were lions he had come to loathe. For the first time, he witnessed the world at it's worst, which was disturbing to the young lion. He was the bottom of the totem pole in the Rebel's camp, often shoved around brutally because his cuts would never bleed. And he was surrounded with the worst of the worst, the Rebels who had never had to learn how to like to watch another bleed because they enjoyed watching the pain they caused. Those who scavenged the bodies of the fallen and picked whatever valuables they found. The cruelty they caused bred hatred and animosity among one another, which was an endless cycle. Izal watched from afar, as tangible as a ghost, as he pretended to be a healer. The stress was endless, keeping up the act. He knew there was no alternative besides death. Of course one day he slipped. A rebel whose cruelty he was familiar with had caught him. He called Parzifal's bluff and then decided to mob the young lion. Since he had essentially betrayed the Rebels, he would be left to die. Unfortunately for Izal, regular pain wouldn't suffice. His wounds would just seal up, there wouldn't be enough blood loss to simply kill him. His death would be much more painful. |
It was just a small mistake, really.
He had grown so used to the lie that his element worked mostly internally. Yes, he could stop the minor bleeding of outside wounds. No, he was working and no, you cannot go off to fight again. Healing isn't instant. The endless repetitive mumbling of answers was mindnumbing. And the worse part that it was ceaseless. There was always someone bleeding and there was always someone asking a question. He had learned to devote only a third of his attention to the latter group. And like clockwork, he was asked a question, and he waved it off. He was busy closing a deep wound, which required much more of his focus. "No, I can't do that," was his response when the questioner persisted. He smothered a snarl, he was losing his concentration. "And why not?" That voice. It took every ounce of resistance to keep his head from swiveling to look at the lion who had spoken. Augmar. The bastard that had brought him here. The lion wore a new armor, shiny and if Izal had guessed, stolen. Out of the lions here that tested his patience, it was Augmar the most. The lion seemed to have a bone to pick with him because he was the only healer at the time and what he did wasn't enough. Izal was his personal failure to the Rebels. "You need to come now." The tone left no room for options. He didn't know what to say, so he shut his mouth and tied off the lion's wound with a bandage. His body would do the rest, as long as he remained as rested as he could. Without a word, he followed Augmar out of the tiny 'den' that served as his workshop. Augmar slowed his pace to match with Izal's before roughly shoving him to ground. He didn't bother to look around as he did it. No one could care. "If you ever tell me no in front of another soul again," He drawled into his ear. "I will tear you limb from limb. Now get up." Izal's body followed the command, and he mutely followed Augmar to wherever they were going. Their pace was brisk, and the lion seemed pleased with something. Maybe himself. Izal could care less. He looked anywhere but at Augmar until they finally stopped, a fair distance from any encampment of the Rebels. It was this fact alone that set him on edge. Being alone with Augmar was never a good thing. They waited in silence for a couple of minutes before they saw three lions approaching in the distance- two heavily clad warriors and lioness walking between the pair. At a distance, it was hard to tell anything was wrong, but as they came nearer Parzifal could make out the blank stare of the lioness. She was limping, heavily beaten and bruised. And her two seeming guards, whom Izal recognized as Augmar's minions, had blood on their paws. Something was terribly wrong here. "This beauty has betrayed the Rebels." Augmar was the first to talk. "A spy sent by the Pride. As such, I've been given permission from Arknon to do whatever I please. And so," he turned his gaze to Izal, watching his reaction. His eyes were narrowed with a mad sort of glee. "I've decided to test the limits of your power. This won't waste too much of your time, you don't need to worry. We both know you can't do much." With that, he moved towards the lioness with a flourish. He seemed on the fence about making this as thrilling as possible or just getting right to what he'd call the 'interesting' part. As he neared, darkness bubbled from his paws, spreading out like ink and crawling up the lioness. The darkness centered around her eyes, and she looked around frantically, eyes wide but seeing nothing. She had been devoid of all emotion until this point, but now it seemed that it was catching up to her. Her jaws gaped for air as she desperately tried to catch sight of anything. Augmar leaned down and whispered something cooly into her ear. She flinched. Izal didn't know what to do. He thought he had felt hate before, thought he'd been reborn out of it in the Rebels, but now his blood was sent boiling with pure loathing. How dare this lion think he'd torture another. He sheathed and unsheathed his claws, the only sign he was upset at all. He had learned how to mask his emotions, but now even that was being tested. "I won't hurt her." He rumbled, eyes not meeting Augmar's. If he met his gaze he might leap out now. How he wished he could put a name to his element, how he wished he could let it loose like a wild beast, ready to claw this lion. Had he ever been able to practice his element, even in secret, he could use it now. Not as something to mend, but something to break. "Hurt her? That's hardly my point. I get to enjoy that part." Grinning madly, his first swipe caught the lioness unawares. It landed directly on her face, and she coughed, spitting out blood. "No, no, Izal. You get to heal whatever I do." He began striking more, claws out. He danced around his prey, shoving her around and batting at her. He was toying with her, while she remained blind. She refused to fall down, however, and her mumbling got louder. She was repeating his name, the name she had heard come out of Augmar's cowardly mouth. She was begging. "Izal please," she begged, her voice growing weaker and frailer as she was left slowly bleeding. "I know you can take away the pain, please just take away the pain. I-I can't do this." She was tearing up now, and another bat to the head sent her, finally, to the ground. "My sister was a healer, please I know you can, why aren't you?!" She curled up into a ball, rocking awkwardly. She was getting delirious with blood loss. "Are you going to let her die?" Augmar stopped. He stared at Izal, eyes devoid of any emotion. Not a numbness emotionless look, just the look of one who could never feel in the first place. "This would be rather dull if you don't do anything. Uh-uh," he stopped Izal's advance. "No touching. Wouldn't want you to get your hands dirty. The lioness said life elementals, even the weakest ones, could delay death from a few feet away. Better start working, huh?" Izal snarled openly now. If only he could reach out a paw and stop her bleeding. But that wouldn't help any damage on the inside, she was still destined to die. "What's wrong?" He was egging him on now, encouraging his anger as if that would help him. "Don't do this, Augmar. Let me heal her." Izal couldn't tear his eyes away from the lioness, who was openly weeping now. Her breaths were growing more haphazard by the minute, she wouldn't last long either way. His paws ached to do something, for once he wished he could become leave his mind, pretend he wasn't even there, staring at the corpse to be. She gave one last spluttering cough before her head slammed down, her body going limp. The shadows that had rested on her eyes finally crept back to their master, where Augmar sat frowning of all things. Frowning, and then with a certain realization settling upon his shoulders, he grins once more. "You're no healer, are you?" Izal opened his mouth to respond, but he was slammed backward, his skull cracking as he hit the ground. His vision swam in and out, and with darkness seeping once more from his paws, Augmar stole his sight. As soon as his vision was gone he started flailing, kicking out his limbs to grasp at any flesh he could, ready to tear through it. Augmar's weight pinned all of his limbs down, and it was suffocating. The shadows that lunged from Augmar's paws stole the warmth from his body, and soon his body was too consumed with shaking and gasping for air to even fight back. He couldn't breathe, there was too much weight holding him down. Claws raked down his back and he let out a roar of pure pain. He couldn't see anything, everything was closing in. "And yet you still do it, your wounds heal up. I wonder-" The lion let out a sudden rumbling purr of pure malice. "Ohhhh... but how would internal bleeding fair? I suppose we'll just have to find out. No harm no foul when it's a traitor, right?" "Don't touch me!" He meant the words to shake the earth like a roar. Meant for them to storm and drive away all the overwhelming chaos far, far away from him before he broke completely. But it didn't. Instead, it came out as a weak sob, betraying him. He heard only a low chuckle from Augmar. "The cub never changes, huh?" A few short barks of orders to his minions, and suddenly there was even more weight on him. He was freezing. He was gasping, and suddenly, a white-hot blaze of pain tore through his ribs as something pierced his flesh. It tore through him, and the taste of blood entered his mouth. It bubbled through his jaws, he was suffocating on his own blood. Another stab of pain, as it tore through him. Another, and another, each tearing through his organs and causing him to choke through the blood just to gasp for air. His mind strived to leave his body, to disappear far away from everything that was happening, but he was left with the hellish sensation of everything. He heard a gasp, and suddenly his vision returned. He was almost too delirious with the pain to make sense of the sight. There were spears, driving through him. Where the wood met his skin, it boiled, melding with flesh. He was no longer cold, instead, there was a fire underneath his pelt. It swallowed him whole and he thrashed, feeling as if he was being cooked alive. And yet the weight of lions holding him down finally disappeared, and he was left too weak to even shake at everything that had happened. The lions had stepped back, nursing small burns wherever they had made contact with his flesh. He saw Augmar watching him, and then, without a word, the lion strode off with his minions. There would be nothing left but to clean up the bodies later. Izal lay immobile for a long time, while his element.. he finally had a name for it. Fire. While his fire seared his outside wounds closed and burned through the metal center of the spears. He would still die, that was inevitable. And how he yearned for it. Yearned and.. still, after all these years, feared for it. Something crawled its way up from his throat, and he opened his jaws, forcing out something greater than a wheeze. Something that resembled a strangled war, even as lay on his side, blood still dripping from his open jaws. It was more than wanting to live, he demanded it. The universe owed him nothing, and yet he demanded something out of it anyways. He wanted to live. This became his mantra, chanted through his head until the words became meaningless and foreign on his tongue. He threw a paw out, and dragged himself. Foot by foot, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Every so often his muscles spasmed, and he began choking again. He had to rest often, even slipped in and out of consciousness. Time, and the world around him became obsolete. He focused on only one thing that would prolong his life- dragging himself away. It seemed between one moment and the next, something had changed. It took a while for Parzifal to piece together what his senses were trying to tell him. A shadow fell across his face. And Izal craned his neck upwards as best as he could allow without his vision swimming. A lion. The lion tried to rouse him slightly, by poking at him, but the second his paw met Izal's fur, he snatched it back in pain. So even now, the fire burned. The lion was saying something, but his own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear in his muddled ears. Still, Izal opened his own mouth, forcing his hoarse voice into something resembling halting words. "Are you here to finish the job?" The lion responded, but his words still made little sense to Izal's confused state of mind. The lion wasn't attacking him, however, and his eyes seemed.. interested. As if he wanted to hear the story of this lion who should have been damned to death. He disappeared after a couple more moments of unresponsiveness from Izal, and only when he left did he realize that the stars hung in the sky. How did that lion have a shadow? When he next awoke, it was in a den. A new lion hummed over him, and Izal would have immediately jumped to his paws to escape or fight or.. something. If he had the ability to force his paws to move. It was like there was a disconnect between his brain and his limbs, as hard as he tried he couldn't make them move. The only result of his struggles was the flexing of his paws. The lion noticed him and gave him a gentle smile. "It's okay, you're safe now." |
After ---> Life with Aeros
When he awoke, alive, everything seemed like a strange dream. The first words he heard since he was left to die were like a small blessing, or perhaps a cruel lie. "You're safe." How he let himself slip away into unconsciousness at the mere thought of something life safety. When he was able to talk, even rise to his paws many weeks after he had been brought in, the lion who had saved him came into the cramped quarters of the healer's den. He sat down, introduced himself. His name wasn't one Izal would easily forget. This was Aeros, the son of Arknon. And after encountering him, Izal should have been aching for revenge. Here was a way to kill two birds with one stone- kill the heir to the rebels and end the war that had stolen so much from him and hundreds of others. And yet, strangely, he couldn't bring himself to fight against Aeros. His allegiance became undoubtedly to him. It wasn't compassion that had moved the lion to save Izal. It might seem ironic, but in his weakest moment, he was at his strongest. Something clawed its way up from his throat and with a strangled roar Izal refused death. He'd be damned if he'd just lay down like a dog and die that day. Too many sacrifices had been made up to that point, the universe owed him nothing and yet he demanded something of it anyway. He wanted to live. Aeros had glimpsed that in the young male, and perhaps saw something worth saving. Life with Aeros' pride was... strange. For the first time in years, the catcalls and shouts that lions threw at one another didn't end in bloodshed. Instead, it was a friendly banter of comrades. Izal didn't need to have eyes on the back of his head to watch out for a paw that'd smack him upside the head or a shoulder that'd shove him to the ground. When Izal was fed up, he was free to snarl his frustrations. The fact that he could didn't mean he did, he was left unnerved and wondering when this easy stretch between everyone would end and he'd be at their mercy. The environment was foreign to him. How long would this last? But there was a day when Izal stopped ghosting among these lions. He started talking again, started learning the names of those around him. He owed Aeros his life, and he was determined to rise the ranks and prove his loyalty until the day came where he could repay his debt. And finally, he had a means to the cause he'd taken up in his heart. The end of the Pride and the Rebellion. |
As he slowly integrated himself into the new pride, Aeros had been but a ghost in the back of Izal's mind. Never seen, but haunting his thoughts. There were times that Izal had wondered if each of his previous encounters with the lion were nothing but figments of his imagination, pieces he had created solely to fill the gaps from point A to point B. He heard lions tell their own stories of their encounters, how or why they had joined the group, which puzzled him. Even more, lions spoke of Aeros being a brother to them, not literally, but not thinking himself above anyone. Parzifal silently scoffed at the idea, tuning out the stories to think. Those in power were always distant, that was the only way to rule. It was a harsh reality, but just realistic.
"Ih- uh, Izal?" The voice startled him, it was too close. A moment later and the lion might have reached out his paw- He cleared his throat. Shook the clinging cobwebs of his thoughts away and out of his head. "Yes?" "Come with me." The voice was calm, not demanding in any way. But the simple statement forced Izal to his paws quickly, even as his muscles screamed in agony. His tail lashed, back and forth. The last time he had been ordered to follow someone... a lion had died. Because of him. He kept his jaw clenched tight and remained a few feet away from the lion. As they weaved through the camp, Izal was careful to keep a distance between him and anybody that came too near. His mind was going a hundred miles per hour, focusing on not touching anyone and worrying about what happened, trying not to think about what had happened. It wasn't long before they stopped before a tent like any other. That was odd. The lion stayed outside while he pushed through the tattered tarp covering the entrance. Inside was Aeros himself, sitting. He looked expectant and gave a nod as Izal entered. Two guards lay on either side of him, and with a flick of his head, he sent them outside. Izal couldn't decide whether this was going good or going very, very bad. "You've done a lot since you came here. I've been curious as to why." Izal stood silently for a moment, still standing near the entrance. How was he expected to answer? "Is it because you feel the need to repay me? Obligated, even? Or do you believe in our cause?" The lion continued. His gaze never wavered, his voice never shook. He was unreadable, expressionless. "Or perhaps we're just friendly in that we exchange food for work. Tell me your reason." "I never," Izal stopped. Took in a breath. "I.. never really caught the cause you all seem to believe in." Ambiguous, it left room for him to see what Aeros really wanted from him. And it was the truth- he had been here for a month, had taken it upon himself to help around the camp while he healed for nearly two weeks. There was a strange kinship among these lions that reminded him of his earliest pride. But this was stronger, apparently because of the cause behind them binding them together. Aeros tittered, seeing right through his attempt at stalling. But he provided an answer anyways. Izal listened attentively as the lion spoke. Of a future with neither the Pride or the Rebels, something combined yet neither. Something greater. And possible. It wasn't some hopeless faraway possibility, it was something achievable. The thought weighed down on Izal. It was possible. When he finished, Izal said four words he had never imagined. But he felt so certain. He wanted to make it real, he wanted to be at the helm of this new future, side by side with this lion. And so he said, "I want to help." Aeros nodded as if this was not something tremendous and earth-shaking, but as if he had expected this determination. How he could have expected it before Izal had ever considered the thought... he forced his paws to stay still, and not shift back and forth as he considered the idea of being read so easily. "Now brother-" Izal nearly jumped at the word. For all its strangeness, it seemed comfortable coming from Aeros. "We have a matter to address. I've been talking with the healers, they say removing the spears from you is impossible without the near assurance of fatality." Fatality. That's how it had felt, when his fire had tried burning through them. Like he was a star, burning from the inside out. "It tear you open again, from the inside out. There'd be no way to survive it." "Since we can't remove them, I've been wondering how you'd feel about an upgrade?" "Upgrade?" He echoed, intrigued. He leaned forward and bit down a wince at the movement. "The spears- you can't see them, correct?" Izal shook his head at the question. Craning his head was near impossible. "One of them has a Rebel bann-" Izal began to shake. He tried fighting it but he was too focused on clamping his jaw shut. He had been strutting about, for weeks, with a Rebel banner branded on him? He wanted to vomit. How many lions had thought he'd been proud to display their sick symbol? Aeros nodded sympathetically. Or something like sympathy. "I understand. That's why I called you in here, among the other things we've discussed." He flicked his paw dismissively. And within a sliver of a second, the fabric was torn from its place and lying between his paws. Izal breathed a sigh of relief, yet kept his eyes on the cloth until it disappeared among shadows that devoured it. When they retreated, and nothing remained, only then did he let his gaze return to Aeros. "Now," Aeros stood, walked a few steps away from Izal, who had finally sat. He dug around many miscellaneous things, before humming as he found whatever he had been looking for. When he pulled it out, he held it out for Izal to see. "Your symbol. Nobody else's. May I?" Izal nodded his permission and held his breath as Aeros leaned forward and wrapped the banner on the largest spear. Izal didn't feel the pain that came with the slight tugging. This was.. he couldn't speak. He wasn't a lion often left speechless, but Aeros had given him more great a gift than he could have realized. "Wear it with pride, Izal." |
Z-99 ---> Something to Keep
They say its hate that keeps you trapped on Z-99. The problem is, no one ever tells you that. Instead, the prisoners are trapped in tiny living quarters, half of themselves ripped from their grasp, and told to shut up. It's quite an ineffective rehabilitation. It really mimicked the Rebel's hierarchy well- hate breeding hate. When Izal first landed on Z-99, he didn't know why. His most recent memories were decades ago, and what he did have left were ripped to shreds. He didn't know who he was or why he was here. He was constantly in pain and he was left so depressed that he didn't lash out. Instead, he withdrew so much in an attempt to simply fade away that he was placed with another, in order to balance the scales. She, wild with hate. Him, immobile due to his mind. He remembers Z-99 well. |
The moments leading up to and after his capture are a blur. He recalls only fragments of that time- the shouting, the heaviness of his limbs, and the drugs he was given to keep calm as they transported him. He knows, somewhere deep in his bones, he'll never get those memories back. What bothers him is that they seemed so.. strategically destroyed.
What he does remember clearly though, was the first time he stepped foot in his new cell. Well, less stepped into then pushed roughly, but who'd hold a grudge? His mind was still a wreck from whatever had happened to his memory. Every time he tried to recall something, anything recent, his body recoiled. He'd begin to feel nauseous and sway on his paws. It was like he was the one crossing boundaries, so much so that he felt like a stranger in his own body. Only bits and pieces of his new surroundings came into focus at a time as his senses tried to piece themselves together. The first thing he noticed was the darkness. It was dark, too dark, and he immediately stiffened, something was familiar about his lack of vision. But nothing came to mind. When his eyes finally adjusted, he noticed giant bone spires, growing from the ground upwards, pale and ghostly in the dark. His fur rose at the sound of the door closing behind him. It was so final. He stayed still and listened to the guard's stride until it became too quiet and vanished altogether. Rough dirt, something akin to granite scratched his paws, and at the sound of water drip-dripping from a corner of the enclosure, he sniffled. Figures they'd punish a fire elemental with a damp cell. So preoccupied with the little snippets of sounds and sights, Izal nearly missed the biggest wild card in his new home sweet home. The lioness. Previously as still and silent as stone as she watched him analyze everything, now she paced. They were the agitated strides of a predator in need of a hunt. The only other thing he could really make out of her shapeless form in the dark was her eyes, which reflected the light coldly. They gave no hint to her inner thoughts. He couldn't make rhyme or reason of what she may have been thinking. All he knew was that he was not the predator in the room. She didn't speak, only paced and occasionally snarled if he moved too fast in any direction. He was confused, and a little upset for a laughably absurd reason. He wasn't considered dangerous enough to get his own cell? He certainly hadn't been planning for a roommate, especially not one that looked ready to tear his throat out if he talked. But even he had to admire he was no threat in the state he was in. He was a wreck. His body ached and spasmed with pain. Rising to his paws was his greatest achievement every day. If he could force the words out of his parched mouth, he'd tell the lioness she'd have nothing to worry about from him. He wouldn't defend himself even if she did attack. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He wasn't the nimble, sharp lion he had been before. And worst of all, he couldn't figure out why. What had happened to him? It made him upset, thinking about it. If he didn't know why he was here in the first place, how could he convince the guards to let him go? But in his heart, he knew that wasn't an option. Not with how they treated the prisoners, with disgust evident in their tone and mannerisms. They'd sooner listen to a wall plead its case than him. His words would fall on deaf ears and closed hearts. The lioness was strange, he realized. She seemed to change every so often, her head tilting as if listening to something important. Sometimes she would stop her pacing, if only briefly. She was like a wild animal in captivity, the slightest thing would set her on edge, and there was only so much she could take without snapping completely. Izal still remained unresponsive to most of the guard's proddings and threats. They never seemed to come around when the lioness was in the room with him. With every rotation of the moon that he skipped his meals, he seemed to wither away more and more. But the lioness, she was something new, something that piqued the slightest bit of interest in him. The only thing, really, that he could bring himself to care about. And one day, he didn't stop the words he had been wondering for close to a week now. "Why do you keep pacing?" She doesn't answer, the only sign that she had heard him was the swivel of her ears in his direction. This had been the first time he'd talked to her, he realized. He watched her for a few more minutes, willing to wait for her reply, before he gave up, laying his head down on his paws. Even that small act sent a ripple of dull pain through his muscles. As soon as he had closed his eyes, she responded. "I need to do something in this hellhole." The snarl startled him, he really hadn't been expecting an answer. But when he looked at her, he saw her muscles clenching and unclenching, looking as if she were physically restraining herself from lashing out. Her tail swung, the only sign of her rising annoyance. Her pacing remained steady. "Hm." He nodded. He remained on the floor, and the call to sleep tugged at his mind, more than tempting. But he felt as if his one and only chance to talk to the lioness was slipping away by the second. He didn't want to provoke her with any more questions so instead he gave her some food for thought. "Izal," he stated, swiping his tongue over his jaws and giving a yawn. "That's my name." "Bisa." Her voice was strained. "You could care less," he stated, watching her claws sheathe and unsheathe silently. He was seconds away from death, but he almost couldn't bring himself to stop. He did, painfully, biting his own tongue until he tasted the metallic taste of blood. He rolled over, his back to her. "That's a pretty name," he mumbled under his breath. He laid still and kept silent until he heard her resume her pacing. It was then, and only then, he fell asleep. She was 'the lioness' no more, finally, he had a name to a face. Bisa. As Izal seems to improve- finally able to limp around, eat his first meal- Bisa seems to get worse. She hides it well, but Izal has learned how she communicates, all the little things that add up. At first, she was just the embodiment of fury and rage just barely held back. Claws, teeth, snarls. But now she seems to be spiraling into something just as sinister- despair. The numbness of emotions. The call to sleep and never wake up. And then she bounces back into her aggressive state. Too much, too fast. A dangerous combination that leaves Izal helpless. She's spiraling. He wants to help her, he feels strangely protective of his cellmate. But he can't do much without risking injury. Even so, he does what he can. He keeps his voice quiet. He talks, on and on sometimes, feeling as if something that had kept him contained within himself had finally shattered. He rides that high, of doing something he wasn't able to do for so long. He talks to her, and about himself. What he says doesn't need responses, he knows that sometimes those are too much to ask for. And if she wanted the quiet, she'd let him know. But instead, Bisa lets him drone on, the meaningless mumbling finally letting her mind fall asleep after days of being unable. A small blessing. When she sleeps, she talks. He doesn't realize it at first, curled in the constant darkness of their cell. But one night he awakes to hear her voice. He can't make sense of it but a few sentences each night. Names, mostly. He likes the sound of them, tries rolling them off of his tongue. But it doesn't sound right, so he just listens to her until he himself falls back into unconsciousness. |
Short Stories ;;
// After the Fusion //
The blood moon brought no harbringer. There was no ominous whisperings, no settling of weary bones that signaled the distinct shift of power in the universe. There was nothing but the eventual trickling of crimson light into even the darkest prison cells. Izal was sleeping when the first flicker of a different consciousness slipped into his head. He stirred, just the slightest bit, waking to the strangest sight he'd seen in months. Light. Pure, seeping through every crack and crevice of the stone room. It was easy then to rouse himself, because this was something special. He hadn't seen the light of anything, not even that of an element, in months. And here he was, bathing in it. It seemed unreal... how he had learned to miss the little things just by their absence. "Bisa..." He called softly to his cellmate. He had likely slept through another meal, she was likely already gone. But he heard the soft rasp of heavy breathing now. Was she hurt? She was just a shape pressed against one of the walls, hiding from the light. She gave a low hiss. "It's the light, Izal! Get out of it!" He had never heard her raise her voice before- he shrunk back. When she was angry, her voice lowered into throaty growls of a predator just barely held back. This was entirely different. He heeded her words though, stepped out of the light even though it warmed his coat. It wasn't just warming him- it was burning him. He sank to the floor as he felt the fire under his skin rise to the surface, rippling over his coat. It felt like paws once more, holding him down as he underwent a change. That simple memory sent him thrashing to get away... but he couldn't escape his own skin. Wherever his fire, now a bright blue, burned through his fur, a new shade was left in its place. A pattern similar to that of stars, even runic symbols was seared into his flesh. He was shaking, gasping. It was like he was fusing with another, and as his body changed his mind was under attack. Emotions, mostly, but the occasional thought that surged through him. He wanted to tear himself and everything around him apart. It was a fury so simple and too overwhelming to ignore. The snarls erupting from him now overtook his shouts of pain. The last of his... her change was finishing up, the numbness of her tail finally made sense. All that was left in its place was the skeleton of bone. She was confused, muddled. She knew where she was, and yet everything was brand new again. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. He? Her? She settled on 'them' for the moment. Not them as in two, but a them as in a neutrality. All they certain was the emotions ravaging their way through their system, and a dull ache for bloodlust. Why? They didn't know. A lioness crept forward, from the shadows by the entrance of the cell. She hesitated, waiting to see some reaction from them. But they made no move. There was a familiarity in her movements, something that quelled whatever mess lie in their mind. Lions were shouting left and right, some were screams of pain, others were frantic shouts. But this lioness was the epitome of calm. Only calculating in her gaze that swept over them. "Izal?" She breathed. They tilted their head, considering the name. It settled over their shoulders, and they let loose another sight, closing their eyes and relishing the memory recalled. "Izal." They confirmed, nodding their head. Their eyes opened, and then roamed over the lioness. She was different in appearance only. "Bisa?" This was met with a nod. Good, things were coming back to them. Albeit slowly, but all the same. The sound of the yelling eventually being cut off stole the pairs' attention away from the changes in one another. They rose to their paws as a familiar voice, and a familiar stride came their way, louder somehow than any of the shouting had been. He carried with him a presence. "Aeros?" The lion's face slipped into view, barely glancing over them to confirm they were of his. He knew they were. How, or why escaped them, but that was something to be pondered over only later. Now was the time for action. Their door opened, groaning, and like snakes, they and Bisa slipped out of their cell, stepping into the hall filled with crimson light. All the lions that roamed about were familiar with one another. Knowing, somehow that a similar thread connected each of them. Aeros. They watched coolly as Aeros made good on an earlier promise to some fool lion. It was quick. Maybe they would have given more of a reaction- but in this moment all they could feel was a dull ache in their head, the pain in their body, and a rolling hunger that permeated their bones. Their tongue swept over their dry and cracked lips the second they smelt the fresh blood from the body. It wasn't repulsive, the smell- in fact, it seemed to lend strength to their aching body. Something had changed, more than just their physical form. Everything seemed to be a blur as they followed their brethren through the jail. Their mind seemed muddled and dense, and the pain.. it was always aching and spastic at times. They had become used to the agony, and yet it was brand new all over again. Confusion pulled at them. To battle it, they kept their body busy. Batting and clawing their way through any lion that dared try to bar them from freedom. It was refreshing, even though tiredness should creep through their muscles. They yearned for more, wanted to leave more in their wake. They were so busy that little pieces of him that had been repressed for the moment became filtering back. He, Izal, and some of his memories. And with the return of rational thought, a single intrusive one crept forward. A monster. He was a monster. // Escape // Fire, fire, fire. For an exhilerating moment, it doesn't burn under his skin. For once, it's at his mercy, and he doesn't worry about his focus or his strength. The roaring pain in his limbs is dulled by the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. It's only physical pain. For once, he's indulging- basking even in the sheer power he holds over his element. Lions fall left and right when his flames and the smoke that rises from them sucks every ounce of oxygen from the cramped tunnels. He leaves pockets for Aeos's group, so they can breathe, but the rest fall prey to him. He's in control, and this is the moment he's been dreaming of since he was locked away. He's burning everything- everyone, even himself. But it's worth it.. if only he can push even more.. But it all ends too soon. A lion, blindly charging to escape the smoke, slams into him. He strikes the wall with a thud, and his shoulder screams in protest. In the single moment he spends dazed, he can only try to pin together what happened. But the lion in armor, sensing a prisoner beneath him, grins. He doesn't waste any time, and he pins Izal against the wall, harder and harder, until he can't breathe. Claws dig into his flesh. He scrabbles for his element, but in his oxygen-deprived state and the pain and now the sheer terror of the contact of the other lion on him, he can't reach it. His blood is pounding in his head- he can't breathe, he can't think- Blood. Blood. When she comes to, it's all she can hear. Her own pulse, pounding inside her head, and that of a dozen others, scattered about. Her senses come to her in fragmented pieces. First the blood. Then, the lack of oxygen, which her lungs are heaving for weakly. And then, she realizes the cause. Then anger. Something primal in her cracks, and she instictively pulls the blood away from his head into his limbs. She feels his weight leave before she sees him- staggering and looking lost. It only takes a minute more before he collapses entirely. But there's a rage that's licking at her paws, urging her further. He deserved more pain. He looked pitiful, lying in a heap. But he didn't deserve her mercy. She could do more- should do more. The rage oh-so-familar rings in her head, causing her blood to boil and snarl to rise to her lips. Her mind is made. She's a few steps away from finishing him off when a lion bounds in front of her, grinning widly with a madness in his eyes of one who has tasted freedom. Her muscles are immediately tensed and she's ready to attack when he turns his gaze to her. "Isn't this electrifying?" He giggled- actually giggled. "I wonder when the next wave will come? Oh, we'll probably go to meet them huh." He was an absolute lunatic. But a single word stopped her mindless rage in the midst of her confusion. We. With her mind returning, she looked around. All she could gather were too many questions and too few answers. The mad lion had already forgotten about her, parading on to talk to another. A few other lions were scattered about, finishing off their own targets. They had an aura of familiarity. She couldn't place it, but they seemed to soften with recognition. One must have caught her bewildered expression, because they loped to her side, seeming to understand her confusion, if not the reason behind it. The rest are gentle.. in their own way. The lion who approached her opens his mouth to speak. "Come on, Izal. We've got places to be." "Yeah, like off this damn moon," another chortles. There's a chorus of laughter from the group now. The lions begin headbutting and mock fighting with one another, like siblings in celebration of an early victory. The excitement and victory in the room was contagious. "Right." Izal grins, albeit hesitantly, feeling his thoughts return. They were finally escaping this hell. He had stepped off the path of Lochren stone sometime in his battle with another. He couldn't quite recall what had happened or why, but that didn't quite matter. What did matter was the moment his paws touched the stone from his homeworld. Something sputtered in his chest, the flame of his powers returning. His muscles gave one final painful spasm before he let out his fire burn overhead. It cast the tunnels in a reddish glow, and shadows danced. His brethren let out a cheer, and started stampeding forward with the way now visible. Nothing would stand in their way. |