Salt, Blood, and Water. (Safer)

The breeze glazed through grass, whistling as it went. The towering, rocky cliffs hung sternly over the clear water. The sun, high in the sky glistened with a scorching intensity over both the grassy cliffs and the tropical waters. The day was warm, much warmer than any autumn day before it. With the heat from the sun, it felt like mid summer, not late fall.

Sitting on one of the overlooking cliffs was a figure. The man was clad in blue garments: a thick blue over-shirt and a blue pair of pants. His hair was blue, as well. You could even go so far as to say that he was blue, but he wasn’t, for he had a broad smile running from cheek to cheek.

As he sat there, gazing out at the endless sea, a bead of sweat rolled down his fore head. His legs were dangling over the edge, where the grass of the plains met the steep fall down to the beach. It was a big jump, at least five stories to the bottom.

With a quick movement, the man pushed himself over the edge with his hands. He began to fall, slowly at first, and then picked up speed. Falling is an odd sensation. It feels like your senses move faster than your body does, and that you leave yourself behind as you fall.

With a loud thud and a cloud of smoke, the man hit the sand below. His back had hit the wall on the way down, and he had torn his shirt. With a sigh and a quick brush, he ran towards the water, dying to cool down. The beach turned into a watery plain only a couple of yards away from the stony wall, and it only took a few second for him to reach it.

Water splashed through the air and created a crystal wall for a brief second. The man dived back and forth, indulging in the coolness of the water. He had been walking towards the water for days. Blistering heats had been nothing compared to starvation, however. It seemed to him that everything had begun to revolve around money. Was there actually anything left that didn’t?

Light swishes fluttered through the air as the man gently stroked away at the water. He was now lying on his back, moving slowly, simply enjoying the blue and white of the sky. “This is the life!” he shouted loudly. He obstructed his balance as he yelled and swallowed some of the salty water. He flew upright gagging on the vile water. He was still in relatively shallow water, and his bare feet pressed against the sandbar.

“That’s disgusting.” he said to himself. After he finished speaking a grin broke loose on his face and he laughed aloud, unable to keep his laughter contained. He brushed some of the water out of his hair and felt some of the weight lifted off of his neck. He slowly waded through the water back towards the beach. He could walk around the beach until he came back to a point where the beach met the grassy hills. He wasn’t really in the mood to climb five stories of sharp rock.

As the man’s body exited the water completely and he stepped on sand, mountains of water leaked off of him. He laughed as the sand darkened. Anything and everything was funny to him. Life was just one big adventure with plenty of joys and jokes along the way.

He plopped himself down, and decided to let the sun dry him off before he continued on. It was about noon, and with the long walk ahead of him, he would grow cold eventually. Night is usually cold after all, especially when you’re soaking wet.

He brushed his hand through his blue hair, which was hanging in front of his eyes. It had already begun to dry, and was returning back to it’s spiked position. He sighed and flung himself onto his back. Something about looking at the sky fascinated him. It was so vast, but you could see so little of it. It wasn’t even actually there. You don’t see something when you look at the sky, you see a lack of something. Other than clouds, there isn’t really anything there, except air, of course.

Harello, you’re pretty screwed up. he mocked himself playfully. And it was true. He was hungry with no food; wandering with no home; alone without a family. He flinched. His mind had wandered too far. His smile fleeted for a second, but then returned just as quickly as it had disappeared. If there was anything that he didn’t like thinking about, it was his lost family.

“I wish I had some darts here,” he changed the subject. “I bet they’d sink right through the sand, though. I suppose I’d just lose them anyway. I never was good at retrieving them. Oh well, I should be going now anyway.” He stood up and began to walk to his right. The shore would only go so far before it began to brake into lakes and such, so there had to be some sort of way back onto the fields nearby.

Sand makes an odd sound. Perhaps you’ve never heard it, but it does. Sand makes a very soft kind of sifting sound when you step on it. It collapses, if you will. Harello listened to that sound over and over. Each step he took seemed to magnify it’s intensity. It could have driven any normal man mad, but each time it soared through Harello’s ear he simply smiled and enjoyed what it offered him: company.

Contrary to what he had guessed, Harello did not easily come to a place where the beach and fields met. After hours of walking he could still only see ocean, sand and stone. It looked like it would have been easier to have just climbed. Harello considered it as he turned around a corner. He was spared the effort, however, when he saw green out of the corner of his eye. The wall of stone descended and a patch of grass lead back up to the rolling hills.

He started walking on the grass and realized for the first time that the sun had already begun to set behind him. In a few more minutes, he was once more five stories above sea level, and the sun had been completely extinguished by the watery horizon. He pondered. After walking a few more miles, he would come to forests, where he would be more protected if it rained during the night, but he would then be exhausted.

After some debate Harello threw himself against the grass. He put his arms behind his head and used them as a pillow. The night sky was much more beautiful than that of day, or at least to him it was. The stars were beautiful at night. To Harello, the brightest represented his lost loved ones. It was the only time he could think of them in peace. No pain to ruin the memories, because it was almost like they were right there with him.

As he continued to listen to the sounds of crickets, he heard something else. A rustle in the distance. He turned over and looked around. It was dark, but by the light of the moon he could see a figure strolling slowly through the fields. His pace constant, his figure sturdy. Harello knew that bandits were known to prowl the area. Could this man possibly be a bandit?

Harello moved closer, being careful to stay low and hidden. As he approached, he was sure that his fears had been realized. The man was carrying two swords on his back. No one Harello knew of carried swords on their back simply to go for a midnight stroll. Carrying such weapons was even illegal in some places.

It occurred to the man clad in blue that he would be spotted. The man was coming towards him with a steady speed, and if Harello tried to move out of the way, he would have to move quickly, thus resulting in being seen, and by a bandit none the less!

As he saw it, there was only one thing to do, he would have to fight the bandit, and possibly even capture him. There was no way to avoid him, and hiding was useless in the short grass.

As the figure drew ever nearer, Harello devised a plan in his head. He was rather good at doing that, you see. He enjoyed hatching fiendishly clever plans, even if only in his head. The result of an overactive imagination, undoubtedly.

As this sword-bearing man came close enough, Harello jumped out from the grass. He flew over the unsuspecting man. His plan was to grab a sword from the man and force him into submission. It worked somewhat well. You see, he managed to grab a sword from a sheath of the man, and as he landed behind him, he heard the man’s surprised grunt. He turned readily around and was surprised to find a sword raised to his neck.

“Give me my sword or drop dead where you stand!” came the man’s response to his attempt. His voice was powerful. Although it was not enraged, Harello could hear the seriousness. If he did not immediately hand over his stolen property, he would be killed. And if he did… well, bandits had never been known for keeping their word. It seemed a grim situation. Looking back, Harello realized that the man probably wouldn’t have seen him at all.

With a faint laugh Harello tossed the stolen sword back to the man. As he caught it he lowered his other sword for a second. Harello saw his chance and spun his leg upwards. It connected with the man’s face and he was sent to the ground. All throughout the blow, the man refused let go of the sword that Harello had just tossed him, even when he almost landed on it. The other one, however, was sent flying.

Harello dashed to his left in an attempt to grab his foe’s lost sword. He jumped as he came near it, and rolled in order to gain a safer amount of distance. He turned back around and the other man was on his feet and running at him. Now, Harello had never been very strong, but he liked sword play almost as much as he liked playing darts. As the blade came flying at him he managed to intercept it and push his foe away.

The other man was breathing heavily. Not out of exhaustion, but out of anger and frustration. Harello could tell that those two swords were special to him, or at least the one he had attempted to steal was. The man came charging at Harello again, and it suddenly occurred to him that this man was now enraged. If Harello lost, he would probably be killed.

OOC: Okay, I know it's not perfect, but as we go, I will be learning things, not just from you, but I write with a lot of my IRL friends, so I will be getting better as we go. And I hope that you can help me as we go, too. I hope it's not too bad, though.