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The white sands stretched as far as the eye could see while azure sea gently licked away at it. The salty breeze was cool and refreshing while the warm sun hung overhead. The rocks in the distance seemed to enclose this beach, making it her private beach, her special place. She strode along it, her feet bare, her milky skin barely contrasted by the simple, light sun dress which waved in the breeze. Her black hair blew about a bit, and her crimson eyes accentuated the blissful smile that graced her blood red lips. She strode down the beach, soaking in the sun and the surf and... well, everything. Down the beach, a tall man stood, a pair of simple leggings his only clothing. He bore a benign smile, his blue eyes and bronze skin sending shivers down her spine. She ran towards him, eventually reaching him and practically leaping into his heavily-muscled arms. They held each other for what seemed to be a wonderful eternity, until he leaned down and whispered into her ear, a rich deep bass voice that caressed her body. "Wake up."
Suddenly, everything became black. Arena found herself on a hard, small bed. That was the fifteenth time this month alone she had that dream. A deep sigh passed her lips. Sitting up, her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom, she looked about. The room was small, bearing the basics: A wash basin, a nightstand, and her traveling partner. Guardian stood by the window, his adamantine hands working quickly with a small knife and a block of wood. He didn't seem to notice she was awake yet. His massive bulk took up most of the window, which was little more than a hole in the wall, as he looked out. In a moment, he put down a half-finished carving. It was vaguely discernible as humanoid. "Something the matter, Guardian?" Arena asked, slipping on her long black cloak.
Guardian always insisted on finishing a carving before putting it down. It was an odd trait this particular Warforged had, an obsession. He only put it down half-done if something was wrong. He turned around, his bulk seeming to take up a big chunk of the room. "The graveyard is glowing, Mistress." he said, his voice matching the one of the man in her dream. Another eccentricity he had is he always called Arena, and just Arena, 'Mistress'. It always perplexed her.
 Laertes Ursus · Mon Oct 22, 2007 @ 07:17pm · 1 Comments |
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