Re: Blood and Ashes
Twisted and twined, the swirling mist of ash grazed against skin and cloth. The dust bit into the bare skin, clinging and scraping, microscopic parasites in abundance. Once again eyelids had held shield against the unrelenting weathering of sand and ash. The slow and steady footfalls approached, denying, opposing the force of the wind. The silhouette fluttered through the filter of flying sand.
Then it stopped.
The sounds of the footsteps on the ashes halted, and now only the wind held it's omnipotent volume over the current scene. In screams and whistles, it hovered over the only two recent inhabitants of the dead town. It also held an almost fully opaque curtain between the two. The town was the arena. Rain and the person behind the curtain, or arena 'gate', were the gladiators. The burnt and dead; the hushed audience. The silence that weighed heavenly upon them and seemed to be brought on by the shear strength and abilities of both combatants. The undecisiveness of selecting a sure winner from the two was next to nauseating.
The wind snapped. Waking sleeping thoughts and bringing attention to itself. But it's greed needed to be fed, it wanted more. Cursing, snapping, growling, screaming, picking up and thrashing violently. A final snap, and it's hunger was fed. Then, in it's own foreign tongue, it seemed to let out one dying whisper.
"Lower the gates..."
And it was done.
The air's invisible blade seemed to rip a hole in the curtain. It parted, revealing the opponent.
A man, slightly taller than the vampire himself, stood no more than nine or ten feet away. The flare of his orange-coloured hair alone dimmed the goggle-covered eyes of deep blue. An average length nose pointed the way down to lips slightly curved to give the appearance of a wicked snicker. His neck led to a jacket, puffed slightly with concealed weapons. His belt held his revolver, where his hand rested, ready to draw at any sign of significant threat. Layered over his belt, there was an eternal number of bullets leading to a queer weapon that hung down. The serrated edges seemed to be 'teeth' of a sort. Under the belt, a gray, thick cargo trousers lined down all the way towards a solid, weather-worthy pair of boots. Seemingly laden with weapons and ammuntion for each, he made the appearance of an ideal bounty hunter, an experienced professional, no doubt.
A... bounty hunter?
The vampire's mind guessed. But, somehow knowing it was correct, it sputtered out another thread of thought.
Another one.
Rain was not so disappointed as sick. Sick of dealing with his share of vampire hunters and bounty hunters. The silence of everything else had begun to pressurize the surroundings under the weight, the temperature rose because of it. Rain stood still, but yet the bounty hunter did not draw his gun. What was he waiting for? He was -supposedly- standing right in front of his target! His open target. No shield or any obvious protection, why not just shoot now and get it over with? In truth, Rain wanted him to shoot. The bullet that held it's bloodlust would not have it fed. It would be a feather in the wind. Dodging the first bullet, and then attempting a ferocious attack that would knock the bounty hunter out or scare him off seemed to be a failing plan.
Both stood unmoving, making the seconds put on a masquerade as minutes.
Rain sighed through slightly parted lips.
Fine then. If you're not going to speak or move, I'll just have to do it myself.
He began to twist his foot first, his leg turning after, an attempt to turn around and walk away.
A sudden crash from the right - his movement interrupted.
Rain need not turn to know that someone was there. The figure that scrambled up had been listening to their silence. His ear caught the unsheathing of a sword, a scraping sound that he had heard too many times, it could not be denied. Out of the corner of his eye, the girl gripped the handle firmly, ready to defend her interruption. The bounty hunter glimpsed her, distracted slightly.
It was a moment that was waited for.
The following scene happened in frames that skipped. The vampire had pressed down on his one right foot, initializing his unparalleled speed, moving himself out of the line of normal eyesight. The sand and ashes kicked up behind him in waves, forcing dust clouds to once again inhabit the air. Elric drew his revolver, at the sign of Rain's departure into the unseen. Reflexes forced him to pull back the hammer.
But he was too late.
An elbow jammed into his stomach, under his ribs, intending to force it's way upwards, behind the bones. The vampire came back into blurry visibility, his eyes locked with Elric's.
The bounty hunter's stunned eyes was accompanied by the loosening of his grip. The revolver began to slip out of his fingers as Elric was thrown backwards from the severe impact of the blow.
The revolver's hammer clicked as it set itself.