Lord Felwinter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tyrants_son) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2024-06-20 10:48 am
tyrants_son) wrote in revivalproject2024-06-20 10:48 am
Entry tags:
To Sleep Perchance to Dream
WHO: Felwinter & you I guess
WHERE: Temba
WHAT: Dodging memories
WHEN: During the Storm (Backdated)
WARNINGS: Falling satellites and robot death. Actually, a lot of death because this is Felwinter we're talking about
I. The Sky is F a l l i n g
He isn't sure what sort of ghosts the storm might conjure up. There are only so many people from his past that would really stir him to follow them, and he knows better than to do that when the timing is so evident. Nor has he any reason to chase after those who have died by his hands. Was he remorseful? Not particularly so, not when those who died had raised a weapon at him first, or would have done the same if he had not done so. Warlords were not particularly known for making friends, alliances were only forged to exercise further power upon the Lightless.
What Felwinter had not expected was to see himself, standing there. He instantly knows when this version of himself is from, absent as they are, the trappings he currently wears, a metallic, skeletal figure in scavenged rags and mismatched pieces of armor. He stares at himself and already has a feeling he knows what's coming.
It's an eerie sight to come upon for anyone, especially as the rains begin to taper off in the area, a false daylight and an open expanse of a deceptively peaceful field.
And then both Exos look up towards the sky as a huge shadow falls across them, and the little silvery drone beside the Felwinter of memory urgently intones, "Run."
II. Re-Moval
The chill of crisp, frigid air gusts through what had only moments ago been the open square of Temba's city center, now replaced by some old, frostbitten courtyard, flanked by a huge structure that may as well have been carved from the very mountaintop it stands upon. And indeed, looking past the edges, the world drops away, snow-capped mountain ranges stretching beyond, barely masked by the flurries that blow through.
Felwinter stands like a solid shadow some ways before you, his Ghost floating just beside him, above his shoulder. Past them towards the center of the courtyard- which is actually a generous term considering the state of the thing- another Felwinter stands across from a being in armor that looks like it could have been medieval in inspiration, but if such smiths and leatherworkers had better tools and material to work with.
A negotiation. Also another poorly defined term, seeing as how warlord was not willing to give up his mountain keep. The memory version of Felwinter expects this. Which is why he doesn't waste words and instead draws his gun.
WHERE: Temba
WHAT: Dodging memories
WHEN: During the Storm (Backdated)
WARNINGS: Falling satellites and robot death. Actually, a lot of death because this is Felwinter we're talking about
I. The Sky is F a l l i n g
He isn't sure what sort of ghosts the storm might conjure up. There are only so many people from his past that would really stir him to follow them, and he knows better than to do that when the timing is so evident. Nor has he any reason to chase after those who have died by his hands. Was he remorseful? Not particularly so, not when those who died had raised a weapon at him first, or would have done the same if he had not done so. Warlords were not particularly known for making friends, alliances were only forged to exercise further power upon the Lightless.
What Felwinter had not expected was to see himself, standing there. He instantly knows when this version of himself is from, absent as they are, the trappings he currently wears, a metallic, skeletal figure in scavenged rags and mismatched pieces of armor. He stares at himself and already has a feeling he knows what's coming.
It's an eerie sight to come upon for anyone, especially as the rains begin to taper off in the area, a false daylight and an open expanse of a deceptively peaceful field.
And then both Exos look up towards the sky as a huge shadow falls across them, and the little silvery drone beside the Felwinter of memory urgently intones, "Run."
II. Re-Moval
The chill of crisp, frigid air gusts through what had only moments ago been the open square of Temba's city center, now replaced by some old, frostbitten courtyard, flanked by a huge structure that may as well have been carved from the very mountaintop it stands upon. And indeed, looking past the edges, the world drops away, snow-capped mountain ranges stretching beyond, barely masked by the flurries that blow through.
Felwinter stands like a solid shadow some ways before you, his Ghost floating just beside him, above his shoulder. Past them towards the center of the courtyard- which is actually a generous term considering the state of the thing- another Felwinter stands across from a being in armor that looks like it could have been medieval in inspiration, but if such smiths and leatherworkers had better tools and material to work with.
A negotiation. Also another poorly defined term, seeing as how warlord was not willing to give up his mountain keep. The memory version of Felwinter expects this. Which is why he doesn't waste words and instead draws his gun.