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quassicare

Bʀɪɴɢ Bᴀᴄᴋ Wʜᴀᴛ Oɴᴄᴇ Wᴀs Mɪɴᴇ…

enragier1

I remember… Whenever I stand by the waterside with her…It is always to prevent something bad from happening…

Remembrances of days buried beneath the sand of time, he would observe wishfully the movements of the water that passed by the trajectory chosen in this particular attempt of knowing the realm that has caged him and many others. Granting the branded man moments to be lost in thought, it reminded him of the beginnings in his hunt. Those empty attempts to soothe his lose, an erroneous choice was to believe the solution can be found in nonsensical slaughter. However, what other option he had but to fight? Still, achieving a peaceful life was but an ridiculous idea and he was left with limited options. It didn’t justify how many have wronged and hurt in the process, anger consuming his judgement more often than needed.

All for what? To have nothing. Yet, was this place attempting to play with the minimal he has amounted and present before him a known person? He would have removed himself, if his resolution was stronger than to ignore the presence of the figure that represented far beyond mere familiarity.

To listen her call out his name, how stupidly reassuring was that? For the common stoic expression, now surprise has taken a hold and nostalgia is what clutches his heart — a swarm of emotions follows, overwhelming enough to leave a trace of confusion and amidst the inner turmoil, he is rendered motionless. His body didn’t respond, slow-paced heartbeats opposed growing anxiety.

Sweet and bitter sadness…

Memories of days long past…but always in the end…—

"…Casca." And it is until a while he can actually intend to approach, his steps hurrying where she stood in an almost desperate fashion. However, refrained from seeking her embrace, the stigma of her rejection still etched in his memory and now of all times, he would detest to be denied the minimal approach. To hold her, it was a right he lost long time ago and he had no means to recover.

Seeing the vivid expression within those black eyes, had that not sufficed as a reward or would he become selfish and demand more? A clear answer is not what he needs in regard his doubts, if she can at least call out again his name, he is willing to depart — never glance at her again, keep a safe distance between both if she needed such.

Anything.

It didn’t matter how obnoxious or absurd it would seem, he will comply.

"CASCA!"

quassicare

It was Guts, but not her Guts. This man had his face and voice, and yet he was almost completely changed. His presence was more powerful then the last she had seen him, dark and brooding. Donned in all black, he looked the part of a villain. There were more scares then she remembered, more then she could count. Most alarming of all was that, despite all this, he looked so much older. As though time had passed, and time had not been gracious.

She quickened her own pace to him, sheathing her sword quickly. He was the first person she had found, and that didn't seem like a coincidence. It wasn't long till she had reached him, but a skeptical look still hung on her features. She was dead so what did it mean if he was here as well? Had he too died? Or was this some sort of vision meant to taunt her? The last thing she remembered he had returned, they had saved Griffith from his captors. Her death was still fuzzy, but finding Guts there looking this way, surely meant something.

"… Why are you looking at me like that?"

Casca was baffled by just how shocked he appeared. Her words had been spoken before she could realize what she had said. Her hesitation was clear. Nothing made sense to her. Not her death, not this place, and most certainly not his presence. But it had been his expression and the startling relief in his voice as he had called her name that set her on edge.

Answers would follow her questions surely. They had to think of a plan, an efficient one that would allow them to locate shelter for the night and then move on till they found others still alive… or dead. Perhaps there friends would be among their numbers, and would have a better explanation at their untimely demise.

Before that, she would ask one more question. They were alone as not another soul could be seen on either sides of the shoreline. Reaching her hand upward, gentle fingers hesitant at first would move delicately through the small patch of white that decorated the nearly all black swordsman. It was an indicator that time had passed, and the very thought of that struck her deep at her core.

"… Just what has happened to you?"

#enragier #guts;1

Bʀɪɴɢ Bᴀᴄᴋ Wʜᴀᴛ Oɴᴄᴇ Wᴀs Mɪɴᴇ…

This was not home.

This was not like anywhere she had seen before. The ground was laid in stone, but with material she had never seen. The buildings surrounding her of the likes of which were foreign. The roads were littered with large steel like boulders, glass squares allowing others to peer inside. Nothing was familiar to her, and that had caused a seed of panic to set within the female soldier. Not to mention the complete lack of people in what should have been a bustling town.

Nothing felt right. Not the buildings, or the atmosphere in which everything was held. Casca herself did not feel intact, a part of her was missing that she was clearly having trouble to face.

She was dead.

It wasn't a sort of woman's intuition or a guess, it had been a feeling at the bottom of her gut that she could not shake. There was fear, anger, but most of she was so disappointed. Everything she had worked so hard for was now wasted. Her resolve to stay by Griffith… had it not been strong enough?

Casca moved out of the town, her hand gripped tight on the hilt of her sword. With no one at the town there was no reason to stay. Perhaps it might have been better to wait, but in truth, staying in a ghost town did nothing to calm her. Casca was restless. In the search for answers, Casca came to a cliff that overlooked a gray sea. She couldn't remember the last time the last time she had seen a body of water so large, or if she had ever. It was relaxing, but not enough to shake the feeling of being watched.

And that is exactly what was happening. She could see a tall figure, completely black, out of the corner of her vision. With a sift movement she drew her sword, but was stopped.

It couldn't be.