____________ Anachronous v11 Gĕt ît în gîr… » 2004

I’ve stalled.

On most everything.

Thankfully I didn’t have to go in at my usual shift this morning. 5:30am to 2pm is a bitch.

Sally’s been hogging the computer with her search for computer parts, surfing her new board, and I’ve spent most of my time sleeping. I must be coming down with something. =P

My LoD layout with Albert isn’t going anywhere. I had it half done and now I just can’t figure out what I wanted to do with it. I think I’m going to hunt down a picture of Lloyd in his hood and cloak and see if I can do something with him. Just so very uninspired.

I keep meaning to play through the Zeal sequence in Chrono Trigger so I can take notes as I go through so I can write my Zeal scene. I’m almost tempted to switch to another fanfic, but I have enough stories started without beginning another.

*yawn* I’ll crash and see how I feel in the morning.

Legacies of the Fallen

Just had a sudden brainstorm for a later part of my Chrono Trigger fanfic. This isn’t finished by any means, but I had this open and had to wrtie this down. =) Forgive me if this sounds cliche or awkward in any way.

She stood above the pit of steaming mud like a blue haired goddess from some tropical legend. Her right hand was resting on the butt of an oar, the other hand braced upon her silk clad hips. Leander couldn’t see the expression upon her face from this far away, but with her wounds now healed, the sorceress had regained her proud carriage and sense of authority.

“Arden? Lass?” He called as he crested the grassy knoll. She turned her severe face briefly to him before returning her gaze to the gray muck at her feet.

The stench hit him when he came within thirty paces of the young woman, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Breathe through your mouth,” Arden called to him in a hushed tone, as though scared something might hear her, her pale eyes not leaving the boiling mud. “Not your nose.”

Leander choked and pressed the back of his hand to his nose, “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Sulfur; mainly.” She said almost too quickly. “Among other things.”

The knight gagged and hesitantly stepped forward, “Look, I know rotten eggs - this just isn’t rotten eggs. What aren’t you telling me, witch?”

Arden squatted as he reached her side, probing the mud with the blade of the oar. He came close to demanding an answer when he realized the oar was beginning to smoke. She was working something towards the surface, trying to outpace the rate the acidic mud was eating away the painted wood. The concept he should say something died on his tongue as Arden’s lips mashed themselves into a straight line as she put her weight onto the oar.

The oar held just long enough for Leander to clearly make out the shape of a human skull before it dropped with a squishing noise into the gray mass.

With a grunt of disgust, she threw the shaft of the oar into the mud, where it quickly sank beneath a wisp of smoke. Her lips wavered, parted, and then closed once more. The sorceress stepped backwards a step, and another, and then the next Arden simply stepped into the air and drifted back until she reached his side. She hovered there a moment, her lips still working as though she were about to speak and then thinking better of it.

Leander swallowed and looked up at her, his hand drifting to the hilt of his Falchion. They hadn’t even seen another person since they washed up on this island and now there was a body in a pit of superheated, acidic, mud.

“The Black Wind begins to blow.” Her voice was laconic when she finally found the words, “Find Gavesin and Jacoris -” She stopped, hesitating as she shut her eyes.

“… Lass? It might have been an accident…” He said quietly, as though half fearful someone might hear them.

She shook her head emphatically and pressed her hand to her forehead, “Just find them, Lee!” Arden’s voice was high and strained, looking strangely vulnerable as she bent forward into her hands. “Oh, Lee… This isn’t paradise - it’s a death camp…”