Title: Catching the Wind
Author: Cecil Kain Cerberus
Characters (central focus): Sion Astal, Ryner Lute, Ferris Eris, Kiefer Knolles, Lucile Eris, Tiir (UNDER DIFFERENT NAMES)
Pairings: Sion/Ryner, Ryner/Ferris, Sion/Kiefer; 4some awesomeness :3
Rating: T, for sexual themes, violence, language, and Sion and Ryner being themselves.
Warnings for the reader: I have no idea how the series ended. It is still going on, so yeah, I don't know what will happen in canon. I've been trying to keep my eye on what happens in general, but I can't read Japanese. :P
Setting: A modern day Roland.
Summary: In the past, he was a king consumed by a mad hero. In the present, he is a college student with a dangerous knack for adventure. Dark games are being played, and the cast has been set. His trials have only begun, yet still, he pursues the uncatchable.
Length: If everything goes according to plan (which may not happen), let's say between 20 to 25 chapters. If not, we shoot for 12 to 50.
Genre: Mystery, friendship, drama, fantasy, stuff like that.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Funimation and the author of this amazing series do.
Doomed to face each other, kill one another, over and over.
Demon vs. Hero.
Loner vs. Monster.
An endless cycle.
Yet now they seek to break it.
A single spell was all it took.
The cycle now repeats itself.
Same faces, different names, different histories.
Will that be enough?
The Past: Centuries Ago
Rushing water. Staring out at the plains that rolled and waved in graceful shapes around him, he listened to the streams running past his steed. Heavy hoofs clipped down into the ground, snorts emitting from the beast's white nostrils as it sprinted through the valley. The scenery was all the same around him, yet he could not stop, could not halter.
He must press forward.
The once beautiful blue sky that hailed over him had now turned a darkening gray, swirls of bubbling sky borne fog boiling underneath the belly of the storm. He did not turn his gaze from the front, neither to the ominous sky nor to the left and right of him. The shadows that stretched out from the few lone trees reached out to his steed with long fingers, the dead bark twisted into scowls as they glared with hatred at him.
Him, a monster.
A true monster. He, not born into a doomed fate, not made into a freak by the military, yet willingly choose his hand, willingly torched his soul.
Opening a door he ought not had opened.
As he pressed forward, memories of the past haunted him. His friend. His betrayal. The wars he started. The people he harmed. He wished that the clock could be reset, that everything can be erased.
After all, all he wanted was peace. But that dream was a fantasy, something that could never be.
Fate, it seemed, had a different idea in store for him.
Present Day - May 05, 2011 - 3:03 a.m.
Running until his lungs burned, he dared not look behind him. Facing forward, his legs trembling from sheer exhaustion, his muscles begging for rest, he continued forward, pressing on through the greenery around him.
He faintly heard dogs barking savagely behind him. But he couldn't catch to see. To turn his head, to divert his attention for just a few seconds, would be suicide.
The highway was getting close. He could hear the cars whizzing by at 70 miles per hour. He knew his friend would be waiting for him by the side of the road, the forest disrupted abruptly for the black asphalt of the road.
More barking, and then a gunshot. A voice called out, telling him to stop. But he did not heed the voice, just continuing running, and running . . .
His lungs were burning. He tasted metal in his mouth. His tongue was dry, and his ears pounded with every leap he took. His feet pained him, his vision distorting slightly, waning in and out of focus. He could not keep this up for much longer. He had to reach the highway. He just had to.
And then, just when he was about ready to give up, to fall over and let the dogs pounce on his weak body, he saw a flicker of light. It waved back and forth, like a candle dancing in the wind.
Joy overtook his fatigued heart, and with the last of his strength, he sprinted, sprinted like no other to that beautiful, loving light.
The trees halted suddenly, and there was grass. Standing on the grass was a kid, no more than nineteen, holding a flashlight. He wear a simple street jacket, khakis, and a baseball cap covering black hair, and he continued to stand in that spot as the lone runner came up to him.
Panting, out of breath, and beyond the comprehension of exhaustion, the runner halted, staggering, before his gold eyes fluttered, fainting on the spot. The baseball cap kid caught the runner, who was also the same age as he, wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, his long white hair tied in a braid. Flickering the light off, the baseball kid dragged his comatose friend into the beat-up rusted colored SUV that had been parked on the side of the road.
Positioning his friend in the passenger's seat so he could be seated and buckled comfortably, the baseball kid looked over his shoulder, hearing mad canines howling and snarling. Sighing, he went over to the driver's side, slipped in, and drove off, onto the highway and safety. He could hear his friend's slow, raspy breathing over the car's gurgling rumble of the engine.
His eyes facing forward, night dilating his pupils, he drove onward, towards the bright city lights that lay out before them.
They were nearing home.