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Chapter 1 | Part 1
Music in the Sky
Bokoa walked quietly down the path leading to his mothers grave. It had been 3 years since she had died and he hadn't suffered much. He never really knew his mother because she was always out, doing whatever she pleased. That's what got her killed, her sense of 'freedom'. Upon reaching her grave, he sighed at the white roses looming out over the dull ground. Before her change, his mother was a lively woman who tended to her garden all of the time. She had bred these roses specialy so they'd never lose bloom.
He walked halfway around the grave and stopped dead when he saw a hand from behind a large bush. He followed it to the body of a girl who was laying in the grass, knocked-out. He was startled by her eyes, open for some reason, they were colorless and without irises or pupils. '..A..a..Nori?' She was indeed a Nori. They were people who were like druids, but much more powerful. She seemed much to young to be one, all of the others were old and wise of ancient decent.
Bokoa was confused why she was here all alone. But he just couldn't leave her here. Carefully, he picked her up in his arms and carried her back to his home. When she was finnaly laying in the spare room, he noticed a large stab wound on her right shoulder. He dressed it and left her on the bed to sleep.
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|Part 2 |
Rayith awoke to the sun smiling at her though the window. She was a bit confused at her suroundings. The last thing she remembered was the Lokin stabbing her and her wandering to the ring of white roses. Stumbling out of the bed, she found her sword and bag laying on the table. She decided to leave them, her being not strong enough to pick the sword up anyway. She made her way out of the house.
She looked over to a path when she heard a flute playing quietly. Following the beautiful noise, she found her self in the clearing filled with white roses. In the center, on what seemed to be a statue of a woman, or an angel because it certainly had wings, sat a boy about her age playing a flute. He had dark blue hair that was cut short and icey blue eyes. She opened his eyes, which were closed, and glanced over, halting his play in mid-note.
He stood up on the shoulder of the statue of the weeping woman and shoved the flute into his back pocket. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he jumped from the statue lightly landing on his feet.
 fauney · Sun Apr 30, 2006 @ 02:03am · 3 Comments |
