Never the Same x{Open}x

[icixala]

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♠ Warm up, RP.
=P So, if you want a fight...
can you wait a few posts so I can get back into character?
(Since, odds are, I'm rusty as heck with Meilin's personality xD)
Enjoy the short, crappy, intro post!

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[/i]

"How long has it been?" horsed words echoed into the crisp, morning, mountain air. A puff of stray, transparent, white escaped from the lips of who spoke. Said lips dared not to show little curves, lacking both a smile and frown.

Footfalls, silenced by the freshly fallen snow, continue their decent down the mountain terrain. The sound of leather was muffled by the early morning winds (quite noted for the Land of the Dragon's weather). A pale, feminine, porcelain hand caught the locks of raven. Hair was quickly parted so crystal, slate gray, orbs could gaze ahead.

Even though it had been months, the land had yet to change. Similar land marks suggested not much happened since her departure. A gruff, as if the woman was annoyed. Impossible, I should not burden myself with such acts.. With that, the Nobody denied ever even putting up the annoyed expression.

Prints were left behind - soon to be buried by the falling snow - as the twenty year old ventured father to the valley. A quirk of the lips when a village came into view. Though, most would not be thrilled to see a village burnt down so long ago. Soon, the lips fell back as if the owner never felt anything at all. Which would not be far from the true, really.

Another whisper, hushed just barely,"Was this not the path I walked before?" Opposite way, however, but all I wanted was to explore..

Gazing over her shoulder, she viably eyed the mountain path. Where she became what she is today, and it was all because of slipping up. Oh well, a sigh escaped lips,it wasn't a horrible spell... She continued to observe the landscape, lost in her thoughts.[/size]

[duck]

The female Nobody was not the only one walking a familiar path. One man stood on the opposite side of the ruined village, a dark blue duster wrapped around his body and flecks of falling snow perching on the brim of the Stetson atop his head. Silas stared down at the ruined buildings in front of him, one hand caressing the hilt of the sword belted to his waist unconsciously.

Everything about the scene before him combined every fragmented memory of his chaotic last stand. The cliffs around him almost mirrored the scenery where Meridia fell and the ruined buildings spoke of his home. Even the snow reminded him of the chill, the way his fingers began to go numb brought back vivid images of hordes of black shapes clawing through his comrades and their precious charges. His eyes narrowed as a grimace spread across thin lips in disgust. I failed.

Silas was walking before he realized where his boots were taking him and the soft crunch of snow marked his passage towards the ruined buildings. His voice was a murmur when he spoke and he was barely aware that the name that ran through his mind slipped from his tongue. Visions of flowing blond hair and laughing green eyes flickered through the man's eyes at the word, followed quickly by a wave of self-loathing. "Constance."

The name of his long-dead charge echoed through his mind like it had every day since his awakening in Traverse Town. Silas could still hear her laughter, still remember how right being in the princess' service had been. But, like the village he was nearing, all of that had long since become ghosts of their former selves. Now all the man felt was an emptiness, a gnawing sense of loss that consumed him. Distracted, the man had forgotten his initial reasons for coming to the land and instead wandered and let his ice-blue eyes wander across the ruined village while his mind strayed to memories of better days.

[icixala]

The land was silent, lacking the eerie feeling of war (like it had for years endured). It was, almost, peaceful. Fluttering of lashes resulted into a blink, as the woman allowed herself to exhale. Once more a transparent steam meant with the chilling air. A suppressed sigh as Meilin debated whether or not to head into the city. Odds are, a mistake if she did so.

Thoughts were penetrated as a low crunch echoed in the vacant area. Orbs flashed as the owner quickly analyzed the current situation: She was not alone. Despite lacking of emotions, the woman still acted beginning with the twisting of her limps. Forcing her body to face ahead - directly the opposite direction she previously stood - she began to refocus.

Nothing, she mused, scolding herself in thoughts on acting on impulse. Emotions were not her thing, clearly, unless - a smirk - masking to gain something was involved. Thoughts of emotions soon vanished and replaced with debating on where to venture. With orbs locked, opposite of the path, Meilin continued the silent struggle. Little did she know the struggle was soon to be shattered.

If she were some animal, ears would have twitched in some way or form. Quiet, to her ears, was a murmur. The lips barely darted downward, as the woman failed to make out anything. A murmur, was it? Or was it her mind playing tricks on the mountain? Hypothermia was not an option (or so she figured) with her hood covering the top half of her body. However, the Nobody's mind thought logically then her stubborn half - long ago realizing she, in fact, needed a warm place soon enough.

Her stride lead her forward, toward the noise she dared to be a voice. The calm, almost silent, footfalls came to a halt. Another was upon the same route as her; yet on another road in all. A male, she assumed from the distance, was on a 'stroll'. An arch of the brow, soon erased, as the cocking of her head came. Her pools of life flickered with fake amusement, realizing she never saw such clothing before.

Wondering, will get me nowhere, a force of her stride. Catching the dim light within the male's orbs, she took a wild guess. "Remorse?" words filtered out softly, yet confused as if the user did not understand the emotion beyond the face. Being about ten steps away, she debated to retreat, daring if the man drew any form of weapon. Death was something she did not wish to see.

[duck]

The ruined buildings were around him almost before he realized he had gotten so close. The man approached each building and stared at it for several seconds before he moved on, his face contorted into an almost unreadable mask. The proper term for what he experienced was "a walk down memory lane," and he didn't see the structures for what they were. In their place, Silas saw the shattered stone and burning wood of his own world, the black smoke thick enough to choke him. He did cough, briefly, and the illusion shattered like fine porcelain. He moved to the next building and the process repeated itself, once again displacing the oddly-dressed man. His eyes were glassy spheres of crystal, blinded by the strong memories surging within him just as it deadened him to the valley's chill.

He was in the same position, eyes fixed on a shattered hut, when the voice interrupted him. The single word she spoke caused Silas to whip his head around, blue eyes widening in shock. There, surrounded by the backdrop of a burning city, stood the woman Silas had been raised to protect. Blond hair woven into a thick braid similar to his own highlighted piercing green eyes set in an undeniably beautifull face. She was wearing the same clothes as the day he had failed her and... The Guard choked. In the middle of her chest lay the gaping wound that had killed her. Electricity coursed through the man's system and the sense of loss in his heart exploded into the same wrenching devastation that had nearly destroyed him.

That start snapped the black-haired man back to reality and his eyes snapped back into focus. Constance was replaced with a stranger woman, all lace and leather, who stood several inches shorter than the lithe man. She was taller, he remembered sadly. The hand that had been resting idly on his blade closed around the wrapped hilt reflexivly, but the Royal Guard made no other antagonistic movements. She is dressed oddly, he thought, but more importantly... what is she doing here?
The question made him laugh, a deep chuckle out of place with his thin stature. He didn't even know what he was doing here, so who was he to question another person. But she had asked him something. That word had been a question, no doubt, but what?

"Yes."
The word seemed like a good enough answer. At the very least it would have bought him time to collect his scattered wits. The girl before him looked young, far too young to be wandering around on her own. Were there more individuals around? Was she a survivor of whatever had befallen the village around them? They were all logical questions, but Silas couldn't bring himself to care. Instead he settled for a simple question. "Why are you here?"