Author: Juliet'sReplacement PM
When this pain in the butt, happy-go-lucky Paladin just dives into Magiya's life headfirst, it turns everything upside down. She hates him, he likes her, and hilarity ensues. But then things go impossibly, horribly wrong. Artix X OC; 2 cups of Romance, 4 tablespoons of Hurt/Comfort, and a dash of Humor. -COMPLETED-Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Adventurer & Artix vK. - Chapters: 30 - Words: 80,696 - Reviews: 88 - Favs: 14 - Follows: 15 - Updated: 11-05-12 - Published: 12-16-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7642746
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I'm back, dear friends, readers, reviewers, best beloveds, flamers, rainbow unicorns, croissants, and whatever else may walk this earth of ours. And may I say, since my last fanfiction, my skills have improved dramatically. :3
Also, during my extended vacation, I had a visit from purple kangaroos from Mars. They guided me in beginning this fanfiction.
Ergo, I thank all the alien purple kangaroos from Mars, as well as my wonderful Santa hat. *nods* Yup. They helped. Believe it or not.
But anyways... another Dragonfable, cause that game's addicting. *nods again* Now... Y'all ready?
Let's blow this popsicle stand!
Nope, that's too common...
Let's make like a banana and split!
No, too cheesy...
Let's make like horse shit and hit the trail!
No, that's not right!
Uh... Let's make like hockey players and get the puck out of here!
No, dammit, wrong one! *you leave Juliet to her crazy mutterings as you continue to the story...*
And yes, this chapter IS supposed to be in Italics.
It shouldn't have ended this way.
He lies across from me, entirely motionless. His face is turned partially away, so I can only see the side. The lightest brush of wind stirs the strands of copper hanging over his now-glassy eyes, usually so warm, so cheerful, gleaming with the light of fun. His thin lips are parted slightly, but no breath escapes. Everything is completely still. I manage to push myself up with my arms, mindless of my fallen and now-lost staff, and his name slips off my tongue like honey, however much I may have tried to stop it. Just like the other countless times I had said his name, coming from my mouth it sounds like everything, and yet just another name. But it wasn't. It never was.
And the first of the rain begins to fall. It strikes his face, and then slowly drips off. He makes no move to wipe it away; he doesn't shift at all. He simply remains where he has fallen, as still as the stone that surrounds us both on the ground, surrounded by rubble. And the rain suddenly begins to pour down, coming down in sheets and torrents. I am frozen, both mentally and physically. The horror and sheer shock of what has befallen us keeps me still as the cold slowly seeps in with the night, and shivers begin to rack my body as the night wears on. Still the rain pours down. Still I cannot move.
It was never supposed to end this way. Never. Not in a thousand years. Not in anyone's lifetime. Nobody should have had to go through this, least of all him, for he was one of the people who deserved it the least.
Never would I have chosen for things to end this way between us. Never would I have chosen for him to be struck down by my own hand. Never would I have chosen for him to fall quite so willingly and easily, perfectly calm and at ease with what he was doing. He should never have gone in this fashion; dark red cloak in tatters; gleaming silver-and-gold armor tarnished and scratched, even dented and punctured in some places; copper-colored hair's healthy shine gone; lightly tanned skin that was visible covered in injuries and burns.
And it had been my hand, my magic that had done this.
How did this happen? I wonder silently, as crystal-clear water that is not rain cascades down my cheeks silently. How did we get to this point?
Suddenly, my head snaps back, and I'm staring up at the sky, up at the rain that refuses to relent, beating down on us. The dark, steel-grey clouds mindlessly pass over us, continuing to dump their torrents of rain.
My mouth parts slightly, as though to whisper his name again, but I cannot. The wound is still too raw. Instead, a broken, agonized, purely tortured scream of something that felt like grief but might have been torment ripped its way out of my mouth, and I physically felt my throat tear with the sheer volume and force of the cry. The copper taste of blood made its presence known in my mouth. Were I not right there at that moment, I would never have believed that I could have ever have created such a sound. It seemed to go on forever, and wave upon wave of grief and sorrow racked my body as I trembled with unsuppressed misery.
I am Magiya, the Indigo Mage, apprentice to the Blue Mage Warlic, savior of Lore, hero to many, but monster to so many more… and this is my story.
Nice little hook of a beginning, eh?