Tsugumi-sama
Hagalaz Clan Omega
- 7
- Posts
- 17
- Years
- Where My Heart Is
- Seen Mar 10, 2009
This is just a little story I'm writing for fun. I hope you guys enjoy it. Comments and critcism are welcome.
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Prologue: Star Speaks
In the world where I exist, there is never-ending war. They say Heaven is filled with peace and serenity, with love and hope. I have never seen such a hopeless place. God's majestic creation has been destroyed because of constant war with Hell. He even left us, us, His children. Both sides have given up, we know we are doomed to fight each other until the last stands and declares the winner. Be it me, Heaven will win, be it my enemy, Hell shall take over. But I am tired of fighting, we all are. We don't care which side wins, we just want to rest. That's all we want. If only there was a way to escape this place, go away. Do my duty as an angel of Heaven, for we are not meant to fight, we are meant to protect humans, love humans, sacrifice ourselves for humans. We are not meant to fight our enemies needlessly. No, I wish we could be peaceful.
Chapter One: Flint, the Transformer, Meets Claire, the Seer
Flint paused, sniffing the air. He didn't recognize that scent, or at least couldn't place it. He lowered his snout, following the traces. They were human, yes, but smelled different. They smelled like everything. There were wagon tracks dug firmly into the ground, hooves engraving the dirt and making intricate designs. His paws were becoming dirtier by the second, but he didn't mind. He continued on his path, his wet nose leading the way. He followed their scent all the way until he heard a campfire, smelled the stew cooking. He paused, unsure of what to do. He decided to play it safe and remained in his dog form. He approached the campsite with caution, weaving in and out through the wagons. Dark skinned people were dancing, singing, enjoying themselves.
Suddenly, there was a bark. Five more, they were alarmed barks. Other dogs were there and had heard or smelled him! The people stopped talking and looked around. A small woman made her way to where Flint stood, tail between his legs. He whined as she approached. She had a strict demeanor but looked slightly frail. Still, she gathered the skin around his neck and lifted him up, pulling him to one of the caravans. Flint whined louder, the pain of having his skin lifted off like that was incredible. The woman threw open the covering of the caravan with one hand and entered the wagon. She gently put Flint down and looked to her granddaughter, who was sitting quietly on the bed. Flint was surprised by how the girl looked.
She had pale skin and her hair was a light blue. She had a frilly yet simple nightgown on. Her eyes were focused on something in front of her. Her eyes were dark and looked as if a painter had smeared something over them so that her whole eye was the color of her iris. The girl looked up as her grandmother walked over.
"Dog, for you. Take care of it." The woman then turned to leave without another word. Flint was shocked. He was being given as a present? How was this possible? How was he supposed to get out and transform back into his human form? He whined an angry whine and went over to the girl. She looked at him and smiled slightly. A faint light from a lantern illuminated her face, showing high cheeks bones and pale lips.
"You can transform back into a human now. Don't worry," she said, patting his head. He nearly fainted. She knew? But how? He kept his secret so well hidden, and it wasn't like he had any markings to identify him by. The girl urged him to transform back into his human form again, and, against his best instincts, he changed back.
In his human form, Flint was slightly tan and had crazy brown hair. His hair spiked up in such a way that he was known as "dog eared". Layers of clothes piled up over him, though most were torn up. His eyes had a red tinge to the dark brown and his carnivore teeth stuck out slightly. Rings adorned his fingers and a collar was tied tightly to his neck. He sat there, his feet touching each other and his knees pointing outward with his hands clasping his feet, waiting for the girl to say something more. She grabbed something off the straw bed and slid down next to him, carrying the lantern as well. She placed a deck of long, red, slender cards down in the middle of them. Flint looked at the cards then at her.
"My name is Claire. What is yours?" she asked, not breaking eye contact with him. Flint's muscles tightened and he found his throat was dry. He was barely able to speak.
"Flint…" Claire looked at him harder. Flint was afraid she would report him to her family…or worse, the church. The church would kill him if they learned he could change his physical form. They would call him a demon, a monster. He couldn't disagree with them, for he had done some horrible things when a bear's mind took over his own. He shuddered at the thought. Claire's eyes softened though, and she handed the deck to him.
"I will read your fortune," she said. It wasn't a request. Flint took the cards from her, unsure of what to do. He had never had his fortune read before. He stared down at the cards like they were some foreign object, and, to him, they were. He waited for more instructions.
"Shuffle the cards while thinking of an important statement that explains what you are concerned about. Then draw three cards and place them face down on the floor. I shall read your fortune this way," she explained, trying to make sense. Claire was well aware of how she could sometimes use too big a words for some people, or how she could confuse them with too many instructions. Flint didn't seem confused at all and did what she told him to do. The wind blew hard as he placed the cards down, almost making him loose the deck. Claire had reached out and grabbed his hand, steadying it, right before the wind had come though. Her hand, he noticed, was covered in crimson body paint that entwined around her slender fingers. There were a few moments of silence between them before she turned over the first card.
"The Flowers," she said, barely audible. She stared at the card for a while before closing her eyes and then opening them. "There were people who cared for you, but because of the fact you did not care for or respect yourself…" she turned over the next card, analyzing it as well. "…an arrangement was made that did not turn out for your benefit. Even to this day you are unsure of the trustworthiness of people and have a very good reason to be, for a deal that will come very soon might prove better to refuse, which is represented by The Clasped Hands." Claire turned over the third card and smiled again. She held it up to Flint. "The Anchor. After much exploration, you will find a good place to come home to and rest. Very promising. You will turn down one bargain because of the possibility of betrayal and accept a different one with a much more trustworthy ally. Very good," she murmured to herself. She gathered up the cards and then placed them on the bed, turning back to look at Flint. He was eyeing her warily.
"How did you know I was human?" he asked, getting to the point. Claire stopped smiling and jumped onto her bed, pursing her lips. She wasn't sure how to explain it to him, but she knew that they would be good friends and that he was very trustworthy. She knew so much, yet she wasn't sure about the immediate future. She could place the future she saw at risk if she told him. She decided to inform him on her ability anyway.
"I saw you yesterday, in a vision. You transformed into a dog, then into a human, then into a cat, then back into a human. You were fighting off a priest from the church," she finished. Flint blinked slowly. It took him a while to process the information. So, she was…clairvoyant? He tried to slow his breathing. Sure, they might not have the same abilities, but now he knew there was someone out there like him. Someone who had an amazing talent but couldn't tell anyone. But, if she was clairvoyant, how did she go through life? He couldn't picture himself ever wanting to see the future, because he knew it would be full of death and destruction. Besides, you might see how you died, and that would not be enjoyable. His thoughts were interrupted as Claire stood up.
"Transform into your dog form, for my grandmother is coming," she said, lifting the lamp onto a table and blowing it out along with some other candles. He didn't question her, simply transformed as quickly as possible into his dog form. He jumped onto the bed along with Claire and feigned sleep. He heard the woman come in and scuffle around, searching for something. She left soon after. There was cheering and shouting outside, Flint wasn't sure how Claire ever got to sleep. Sleep began taking him, though, and he drifted into dreams not long after Claire did, though his dreams were filled with imaginings and Claire's with the future.
Chapter Two: Flint and Claire Visit the Church in the Village of Veneer
"Flint. Flint. Wake up," Claire's gentle voice echoed through his ears. Flint groaned softly, his snout rubbing against Claire's shin. She poked his head, urging him to wake up. Her voice was frustrated, scared. Slowly, Flint opened his brown eyes, staring at her. She pulled him closer to her on the bed, they were both lying there. The wagon was moving, bumping up and down occasionally. Claire's face was plagued with worry. Even though he had just met her the night before, Flint was instantly sympathetic and scared. He got a feeling Claire didn't worry about too much.
"We're headed to the Village of Veneer," she murmured, clasping his dog form close to her own body. Flint felt slightly uncomfortable, being so close to a female. Claire seemed oblivious to the fact that it was awkward for the two to be so close. She stared deeply into his eyes, leaning towards him even more. Flint was thankful he was in his dog form or his blush would have been painfully obvious. As she spoke again, he got a full blast of her cherry breath.
"You must not leave the safety of the wagons," she informed him, her slender hands wrapped around his thin body. Her eyes were stern as she spoke, and Flint nodded instantly, becoming even more frightened. Claire's eyes softened and she let go of Flint, sitting up. A small smile returned to her face. Flint couldn't' help but stare; she was so beautiful. Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he sat up as well, stretching. The wagon jolted upright at that moment, and he felt himself slipping off. Claire simply grabbed his front leg and held on tightly, lifting him up. He wagged his long, bushy tail as a sign of thanks and stared outside the wagon. The deep forest soon dissolved into the cold, grey, stone village. Flint whined loudly, his head sinking. Claire looked at him sympathetically, but she knew she couldn't help. As the wagon hit the cobbled street it bounced more. Claire yanked Flint down to her lap and kept a tight grip on him as to make sure he didn't bounce off. He struggled at first but soon settled down, taking in her intoxicating scent. They must have been traveling for at least an hour, for he started to fall asleep. In his state, he suddenly recognized Claire's scent. It had been the one that had lured him to the encampment of gypsies. The smell around her was different, sweeter than most humans. Even sweeter, more traveled, than the gypsy scent. He nuzzled her softly, not totally aware of what he was doing.
"Flint. Flint. Please, don't make me poke you again," Clair whispered, her blushing face inches from his. The way he had been nuzzling her arms and legs had made her highly uncomfortable, and the wagon had stopped anyway. Flint opened his eyes just as her blush faded. Shaking away his tiredness, he yawned and moved over to rest his head on the bed. Claire hopped off and informed him not to watch as she changed. He was still tired, even though he tried his hardest to be awake, so he mostly let his eyes droop as he stared outside at the bustling village. He jumped up suddenly, barking as he caught an unpleasantly familiar scent. Claire cringed slightly and walked over to him. A low, deadly growl escaped his maw as he lifted his lips to reveal very large canines. Claire put her hand on his head, trying to comfort him.
"We're outside the church. I'm going in, you stay in here," she explained. Flint growled louder to show his distaste for the plan. The scent emanating from the church made him want to go out and kill something. Suddenly, Claire's nails dug into his neck, her face appearing in front of his. She wore the same expression as earlier, when she originally told him not to leave the wagons. He yelped in pain, her sharp fingernails digging deeper.
"Nothing good will happen if you enter." She let go of his neck and jumped out of the wagon without a second glance. Still growling, Flint slowly changed back into his human form. As he rubbed the back of his neck he was greeted by a hot liquid that stuck to his hands. He drew his hand back and gawked at it, amazed that Claire had actually drawn blood. Still, he had no time to waste on such trivial things. Making sure no one was watching, he lunged out of the wagon and crept to the side of the enormous church. He stared up at its parapets and frowned. He was incredibly aware of how he should be not doing this. Claire had given him good advice, but that scent…He dove into the entrance, hiding in the shadows.
Flint absorbed the scene in front of him, trying to memorize everything. In case he didn't finish things today, he wanted to remember this place so it would be easy to find.
The church stretched upward forever. It was so dark in the place that Flint couldn't make out the ceiling, but the walls were so dank he figured he wasn't missing much. There was only one stained glass window, at the very back of the church. It was huge, and a picture of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus was plastered in it. Even the glass was dark in its colors, and little light shone through. A few torches lit the sides of the walls, and the preachers area was lit by ten candles in a golden candelabra. They sat on a large table with a ripped, red cloth covering it. A holy bible sat, opened, along with the candles. A small glass of wine and pieces of bread and cheese were next to the bible. The priest had been eating while reading the holy book. Flint smirked internally, joking about how the priest was so fat. After taking in the physical appearance, he moved to the people.
The old woman from the night before and Claire stood, speaking with the old, fat friar. The friar had a fake smile sewn onto his face, though with each word uttered by the old woman the smile loosened. Flint crouched down, feeling tension begin to rise off the three. Claire simply stood, looking off into the distance. She was dressed in a flimsy, deep blue skirt that swirled around her on the ground. Her top was a light blue corset with sleeves. She touched her lips thoughtfully with one of her fingers. The sleeves were long on the corset, covering most of her hands, and the ends were tattered and a deeper blue than the rest of the top. She seemed incredibly uninterested in the conversation the other two were having. The old woman gestured towards Claire and said something harshly. The friar's smile immediately drooped, and he stiffened, accentuating the already tight black and maroon outfit he was wearing. He outstretched a flabby hand and grasped Claire's arm tightly, pulling her towards him. Her eyes showed no fear, she simply gazed into his eyes. His dark eyes bore into her with such anger that the devil would have been scared to approach him. As she did not react, he spat on her and threw her to the ground, letting her trip on her ridiculously long skirt. She seemed slightly hurt from the fall but recuperated quickly. The friar shoved the older woman away and started walking towards Claire, cursing under his breath. Flint couldn't take it. She was simply sitting their, waiting for the friar to finish her off. He wouldn't let that happen. She was similar to him. He couldn't let the idiotic friar take her precious life away because of that! Transforming again into a dog, he lunged forward, snapping and barking loudly. He stood steadfastly in front of Claire, his entire body covering her. The friar stopped dead in his tracks. He had not been expecting an interruption like this. The friar backed up slowly, unsure of what to do. Growling loudly and snapping his jaws once more, Flint transformed into a human form. In his hands he held a long, thick dagger engraved with ancient, Pagan symbols. The friar tensed even more.
"Leave her alone," Flint ordered through his teeth. All of his hair was standing on end and the red around his irises became more prominent. It was going to end quickly, with a dagger to the chest. To whose chest, Flint wasn't sure, for the friar now took out a crystal dagger of his own. Ruby crosses were etched along the middle and the hilt, yet Flint knew they gave the friar no special abilities. The tension bubbled like overflowing soup on a stove, and the group stood motionless for a while. Slowly, Claire inched her way up to Flint's pointed ear and whispered instructions.
"If you transform…you will die. Aim for the neck."
It took a second for Flint to dart towards the friar, flailing his dagger like a madman. It was coming closer and closer to the enemy's neck, so close Flint could almost taste the blood. But it didn't get there. It took a moment before the pain set in. Then Flint realized, slowly, so slowly, that there was a cruel, crystal dagger shoved into his chest. As he breathed, he came to the horrible knowledge that it was shoved into his lung. He tried to breath again but the pain was too much. He felt himself taking faster, shallower breaths, until, as he heaved loudly, all went blank.
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Prologue: Star Speaks
In the world where I exist, there is never-ending war. They say Heaven is filled with peace and serenity, with love and hope. I have never seen such a hopeless place. God's majestic creation has been destroyed because of constant war with Hell. He even left us, us, His children. Both sides have given up, we know we are doomed to fight each other until the last stands and declares the winner. Be it me, Heaven will win, be it my enemy, Hell shall take over. But I am tired of fighting, we all are. We don't care which side wins, we just want to rest. That's all we want. If only there was a way to escape this place, go away. Do my duty as an angel of Heaven, for we are not meant to fight, we are meant to protect humans, love humans, sacrifice ourselves for humans. We are not meant to fight our enemies needlessly. No, I wish we could be peaceful.
Chapter One: Flint, the Transformer, Meets Claire, the Seer
Flint paused, sniffing the air. He didn't recognize that scent, or at least couldn't place it. He lowered his snout, following the traces. They were human, yes, but smelled different. They smelled like everything. There were wagon tracks dug firmly into the ground, hooves engraving the dirt and making intricate designs. His paws were becoming dirtier by the second, but he didn't mind. He continued on his path, his wet nose leading the way. He followed their scent all the way until he heard a campfire, smelled the stew cooking. He paused, unsure of what to do. He decided to play it safe and remained in his dog form. He approached the campsite with caution, weaving in and out through the wagons. Dark skinned people were dancing, singing, enjoying themselves.
Suddenly, there was a bark. Five more, they were alarmed barks. Other dogs were there and had heard or smelled him! The people stopped talking and looked around. A small woman made her way to where Flint stood, tail between his legs. He whined as she approached. She had a strict demeanor but looked slightly frail. Still, she gathered the skin around his neck and lifted him up, pulling him to one of the caravans. Flint whined louder, the pain of having his skin lifted off like that was incredible. The woman threw open the covering of the caravan with one hand and entered the wagon. She gently put Flint down and looked to her granddaughter, who was sitting quietly on the bed. Flint was surprised by how the girl looked.
She had pale skin and her hair was a light blue. She had a frilly yet simple nightgown on. Her eyes were focused on something in front of her. Her eyes were dark and looked as if a painter had smeared something over them so that her whole eye was the color of her iris. The girl looked up as her grandmother walked over.
"Dog, for you. Take care of it." The woman then turned to leave without another word. Flint was shocked. He was being given as a present? How was this possible? How was he supposed to get out and transform back into his human form? He whined an angry whine and went over to the girl. She looked at him and smiled slightly. A faint light from a lantern illuminated her face, showing high cheeks bones and pale lips.
"You can transform back into a human now. Don't worry," she said, patting his head. He nearly fainted. She knew? But how? He kept his secret so well hidden, and it wasn't like he had any markings to identify him by. The girl urged him to transform back into his human form again, and, against his best instincts, he changed back.
In his human form, Flint was slightly tan and had crazy brown hair. His hair spiked up in such a way that he was known as "dog eared". Layers of clothes piled up over him, though most were torn up. His eyes had a red tinge to the dark brown and his carnivore teeth stuck out slightly. Rings adorned his fingers and a collar was tied tightly to his neck. He sat there, his feet touching each other and his knees pointing outward with his hands clasping his feet, waiting for the girl to say something more. She grabbed something off the straw bed and slid down next to him, carrying the lantern as well. She placed a deck of long, red, slender cards down in the middle of them. Flint looked at the cards then at her.
"My name is Claire. What is yours?" she asked, not breaking eye contact with him. Flint's muscles tightened and he found his throat was dry. He was barely able to speak.
"Flint…" Claire looked at him harder. Flint was afraid she would report him to her family…or worse, the church. The church would kill him if they learned he could change his physical form. They would call him a demon, a monster. He couldn't disagree with them, for he had done some horrible things when a bear's mind took over his own. He shuddered at the thought. Claire's eyes softened though, and she handed the deck to him.
"I will read your fortune," she said. It wasn't a request. Flint took the cards from her, unsure of what to do. He had never had his fortune read before. He stared down at the cards like they were some foreign object, and, to him, they were. He waited for more instructions.
"Shuffle the cards while thinking of an important statement that explains what you are concerned about. Then draw three cards and place them face down on the floor. I shall read your fortune this way," she explained, trying to make sense. Claire was well aware of how she could sometimes use too big a words for some people, or how she could confuse them with too many instructions. Flint didn't seem confused at all and did what she told him to do. The wind blew hard as he placed the cards down, almost making him loose the deck. Claire had reached out and grabbed his hand, steadying it, right before the wind had come though. Her hand, he noticed, was covered in crimson body paint that entwined around her slender fingers. There were a few moments of silence between them before she turned over the first card.
"The Flowers," she said, barely audible. She stared at the card for a while before closing her eyes and then opening them. "There were people who cared for you, but because of the fact you did not care for or respect yourself…" she turned over the next card, analyzing it as well. "…an arrangement was made that did not turn out for your benefit. Even to this day you are unsure of the trustworthiness of people and have a very good reason to be, for a deal that will come very soon might prove better to refuse, which is represented by The Clasped Hands." Claire turned over the third card and smiled again. She held it up to Flint. "The Anchor. After much exploration, you will find a good place to come home to and rest. Very promising. You will turn down one bargain because of the possibility of betrayal and accept a different one with a much more trustworthy ally. Very good," she murmured to herself. She gathered up the cards and then placed them on the bed, turning back to look at Flint. He was eyeing her warily.
"How did you know I was human?" he asked, getting to the point. Claire stopped smiling and jumped onto her bed, pursing her lips. She wasn't sure how to explain it to him, but she knew that they would be good friends and that he was very trustworthy. She knew so much, yet she wasn't sure about the immediate future. She could place the future she saw at risk if she told him. She decided to inform him on her ability anyway.
"I saw you yesterday, in a vision. You transformed into a dog, then into a human, then into a cat, then back into a human. You were fighting off a priest from the church," she finished. Flint blinked slowly. It took him a while to process the information. So, she was…clairvoyant? He tried to slow his breathing. Sure, they might not have the same abilities, but now he knew there was someone out there like him. Someone who had an amazing talent but couldn't tell anyone. But, if she was clairvoyant, how did she go through life? He couldn't picture himself ever wanting to see the future, because he knew it would be full of death and destruction. Besides, you might see how you died, and that would not be enjoyable. His thoughts were interrupted as Claire stood up.
"Transform into your dog form, for my grandmother is coming," she said, lifting the lamp onto a table and blowing it out along with some other candles. He didn't question her, simply transformed as quickly as possible into his dog form. He jumped onto the bed along with Claire and feigned sleep. He heard the woman come in and scuffle around, searching for something. She left soon after. There was cheering and shouting outside, Flint wasn't sure how Claire ever got to sleep. Sleep began taking him, though, and he drifted into dreams not long after Claire did, though his dreams were filled with imaginings and Claire's with the future.
Chapter Two: Flint and Claire Visit the Church in the Village of Veneer
"Flint. Flint. Wake up," Claire's gentle voice echoed through his ears. Flint groaned softly, his snout rubbing against Claire's shin. She poked his head, urging him to wake up. Her voice was frustrated, scared. Slowly, Flint opened his brown eyes, staring at her. She pulled him closer to her on the bed, they were both lying there. The wagon was moving, bumping up and down occasionally. Claire's face was plagued with worry. Even though he had just met her the night before, Flint was instantly sympathetic and scared. He got a feeling Claire didn't worry about too much.
"We're headed to the Village of Veneer," she murmured, clasping his dog form close to her own body. Flint felt slightly uncomfortable, being so close to a female. Claire seemed oblivious to the fact that it was awkward for the two to be so close. She stared deeply into his eyes, leaning towards him even more. Flint was thankful he was in his dog form or his blush would have been painfully obvious. As she spoke again, he got a full blast of her cherry breath.
"You must not leave the safety of the wagons," she informed him, her slender hands wrapped around his thin body. Her eyes were stern as she spoke, and Flint nodded instantly, becoming even more frightened. Claire's eyes softened and she let go of Flint, sitting up. A small smile returned to her face. Flint couldn't' help but stare; she was so beautiful. Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he sat up as well, stretching. The wagon jolted upright at that moment, and he felt himself slipping off. Claire simply grabbed his front leg and held on tightly, lifting him up. He wagged his long, bushy tail as a sign of thanks and stared outside the wagon. The deep forest soon dissolved into the cold, grey, stone village. Flint whined loudly, his head sinking. Claire looked at him sympathetically, but she knew she couldn't help. As the wagon hit the cobbled street it bounced more. Claire yanked Flint down to her lap and kept a tight grip on him as to make sure he didn't bounce off. He struggled at first but soon settled down, taking in her intoxicating scent. They must have been traveling for at least an hour, for he started to fall asleep. In his state, he suddenly recognized Claire's scent. It had been the one that had lured him to the encampment of gypsies. The smell around her was different, sweeter than most humans. Even sweeter, more traveled, than the gypsy scent. He nuzzled her softly, not totally aware of what he was doing.
"Flint. Flint. Please, don't make me poke you again," Clair whispered, her blushing face inches from his. The way he had been nuzzling her arms and legs had made her highly uncomfortable, and the wagon had stopped anyway. Flint opened his eyes just as her blush faded. Shaking away his tiredness, he yawned and moved over to rest his head on the bed. Claire hopped off and informed him not to watch as she changed. He was still tired, even though he tried his hardest to be awake, so he mostly let his eyes droop as he stared outside at the bustling village. He jumped up suddenly, barking as he caught an unpleasantly familiar scent. Claire cringed slightly and walked over to him. A low, deadly growl escaped his maw as he lifted his lips to reveal very large canines. Claire put her hand on his head, trying to comfort him.
"We're outside the church. I'm going in, you stay in here," she explained. Flint growled louder to show his distaste for the plan. The scent emanating from the church made him want to go out and kill something. Suddenly, Claire's nails dug into his neck, her face appearing in front of his. She wore the same expression as earlier, when she originally told him not to leave the wagons. He yelped in pain, her sharp fingernails digging deeper.
"Nothing good will happen if you enter." She let go of his neck and jumped out of the wagon without a second glance. Still growling, Flint slowly changed back into his human form. As he rubbed the back of his neck he was greeted by a hot liquid that stuck to his hands. He drew his hand back and gawked at it, amazed that Claire had actually drawn blood. Still, he had no time to waste on such trivial things. Making sure no one was watching, he lunged out of the wagon and crept to the side of the enormous church. He stared up at its parapets and frowned. He was incredibly aware of how he should be not doing this. Claire had given him good advice, but that scent…He dove into the entrance, hiding in the shadows.
Flint absorbed the scene in front of him, trying to memorize everything. In case he didn't finish things today, he wanted to remember this place so it would be easy to find.
The church stretched upward forever. It was so dark in the place that Flint couldn't make out the ceiling, but the walls were so dank he figured he wasn't missing much. There was only one stained glass window, at the very back of the church. It was huge, and a picture of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus was plastered in it. Even the glass was dark in its colors, and little light shone through. A few torches lit the sides of the walls, and the preachers area was lit by ten candles in a golden candelabra. They sat on a large table with a ripped, red cloth covering it. A holy bible sat, opened, along with the candles. A small glass of wine and pieces of bread and cheese were next to the bible. The priest had been eating while reading the holy book. Flint smirked internally, joking about how the priest was so fat. After taking in the physical appearance, he moved to the people.
The old woman from the night before and Claire stood, speaking with the old, fat friar. The friar had a fake smile sewn onto his face, though with each word uttered by the old woman the smile loosened. Flint crouched down, feeling tension begin to rise off the three. Claire simply stood, looking off into the distance. She was dressed in a flimsy, deep blue skirt that swirled around her on the ground. Her top was a light blue corset with sleeves. She touched her lips thoughtfully with one of her fingers. The sleeves were long on the corset, covering most of her hands, and the ends were tattered and a deeper blue than the rest of the top. She seemed incredibly uninterested in the conversation the other two were having. The old woman gestured towards Claire and said something harshly. The friar's smile immediately drooped, and he stiffened, accentuating the already tight black and maroon outfit he was wearing. He outstretched a flabby hand and grasped Claire's arm tightly, pulling her towards him. Her eyes showed no fear, she simply gazed into his eyes. His dark eyes bore into her with such anger that the devil would have been scared to approach him. As she did not react, he spat on her and threw her to the ground, letting her trip on her ridiculously long skirt. She seemed slightly hurt from the fall but recuperated quickly. The friar shoved the older woman away and started walking towards Claire, cursing under his breath. Flint couldn't take it. She was simply sitting their, waiting for the friar to finish her off. He wouldn't let that happen. She was similar to him. He couldn't let the idiotic friar take her precious life away because of that! Transforming again into a dog, he lunged forward, snapping and barking loudly. He stood steadfastly in front of Claire, his entire body covering her. The friar stopped dead in his tracks. He had not been expecting an interruption like this. The friar backed up slowly, unsure of what to do. Growling loudly and snapping his jaws once more, Flint transformed into a human form. In his hands he held a long, thick dagger engraved with ancient, Pagan symbols. The friar tensed even more.
"Leave her alone," Flint ordered through his teeth. All of his hair was standing on end and the red around his irises became more prominent. It was going to end quickly, with a dagger to the chest. To whose chest, Flint wasn't sure, for the friar now took out a crystal dagger of his own. Ruby crosses were etched along the middle and the hilt, yet Flint knew they gave the friar no special abilities. The tension bubbled like overflowing soup on a stove, and the group stood motionless for a while. Slowly, Claire inched her way up to Flint's pointed ear and whispered instructions.
"If you transform…you will die. Aim for the neck."
It took a second for Flint to dart towards the friar, flailing his dagger like a madman. It was coming closer and closer to the enemy's neck, so close Flint could almost taste the blood. But it didn't get there. It took a moment before the pain set in. Then Flint realized, slowly, so slowly, that there was a cruel, crystal dagger shoved into his chest. As he breathed, he came to the horrible knowledge that it was shoved into his lung. He tried to breath again but the pain was too much. He felt himself taking faster, shallower breaths, until, as he heaved loudly, all went blank.