Red Drought - Part 2

[Aeric Ecrai]

Light took its first steps...

He had collided with someone. A man, it looked like, but the strangest man he had ever seen. A cape that swept down to his knees and a hat with a small feather stuck in it rested on his head. In one hand, he carried a cane. His skin was pale, his hair blonde and his eyes a striking blue.

Blue. Where had that word come from? He knew not, but that was what the color was. And green, he realized. The cape and hat were green. Everything in his world was black.
Black and red...

There was another man with him, with blazing orange-bronze hair, in a simpler leather coat that was fastened around his waist with a belt. A small, incredibly thin sword was fastened to his side. A rapier used in fencing, perhaps? An old book he had found in an alley had detailed fencing. A friend had taken it from him and burned it, saying knowledge of that sort was sacreligious. The man's skin was the same pale, and his eyes were as green as the first's cape.

And then he realized. Before he could think about what effect it would have, he blurted:

"You're brights..."

* * * *

Barsidious Proctor took in the young boy in front of him, and was filled with pity. His skin was mottled and dark, caked with dirt and filth. Scars ran not only across his wrists but also on his legs and arms. One cut on his wrist was fresh, probably self inflicted this morning. The same dirt and grime that covered his face also clung to his hair. Taken off guard, he could only close his eyes for a moment and whisper,

"Dear spirits, what have they done to you?"

Ezekiel just looked at Barsidious and sighed.
"So much for being stealthy. If I were anyone else, I'd say you had intended for him to run into us." He fingered the grip of his rapier, knowing that if it was necessary he could draw it in a heartbeat.

These two were another kind of strange, Dirk decided. Best to turn them into the Dark Ones. Something inside him screamed for him to stop, but this thing made him afraid. As he turned to run, a hand caught his shoulder. The man called Barsidious had him in such a grip that he could not shake free. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, a thousand gruesome thoughts of what the brights were going to do to an innocent person like him. Their pity sickened him. That they would pity one so much more enlightened than they turned his stomach. Even so, he was unable to break Barsidious's iron grip.

"Now son, it'd be best if you kept silent and didn't turn us into the Shades. If the...if your leader knows that we're here, we could be in a lot of trouble," he said, his grip not slackening in the slightest.

The other one - Ezekiel - scoffed. "Easy for you to say, if 'a lot of trouble' means 'dead'." Bars always seemed to be intentionally getting them into trouble. Not that it was always bad; somtimes it helped more than it hurt. This time, though was different. This boy was just another brainwashed servant of the Necromancer in his own way. Perhaps Bars was trying to be noble and save him, but it was just one child in a sea of filth. And aside from that, if he turned them in, all they had worked for was over.

"Let go of me, you...you bright! I'll scream for help! I'll-" his voice was cut off as Ezekiel's hand clamped over his mouth. Barsidious gave Ezekiel a knowing look. Whatever his purpose was for letting them be seen, it was for the greater good. At least, it was in Bars's eyes.

"Now, I'll remove my hand only if you promise not to call a Shade. We don't want things to get too messy early on, after all." Ezekiel hissed into his ear. And empty threat; he didn't intend to hurt the child, after all, but he didn't trust him either. Dirk shook his head yes profusely, and Ezekiel removed his hand. Before he could think again to yell for help, curiosity got the best of him.

"Where you the ones who wrote those things in my house?" he asked, staring at the two strange men. If anyone, it had to have been them who had done it.

"What? What things are you talking about? We wouldn't just go into someone's house to simply scrawl things on their wall unless they were important." Barsidious commented, one hand gripping his green staff, the other on his hip. He wasn't too concerned about the lad running now, because he could tell he was curious about something.

"You mean you two aren't the ones who wrote those blasphemous things about the Dark Ones and the Red Ones?"
At the last two words of his sentence, both men's faces visibly paled. They exchanged a look, then turned back to him.

He couldn't mean Redcloaks. Link had wiped them all out before the Necromancer had siezed power, to make sure they had a chance to fight back. Where there was one Redcloak, there were many. Superstition floated around those monsters like flies around a carcass.

"Although we would like to take credit for such an act, we did not do this." Ezekiel said, his eyes scrutinizing. "What are these...Red Ones?" They knew, of course, that the Dark Ones were simply Shades bound to the Necromancer's will as they always had been. This new development was unsettling. Master Ecrai had said nothing about this.

"The Red Ones are the fabled guardians of the sacred Dark, peacekeepers of th-" before he could finish, Dirk cried out in pain. It felt as if someone had rammed a dagger through his skull, but nothing was there. Barsidious and Ezekiel stumbled back a step, the realization of what he had said clear on their faces. They knew something he didn't, and were afraid. The pain grew and grew until he was forced to his knees and all he could see was red. And then he realized:

His eyes were bleeding.

[Aeric Ecrai]

Not done yet.

Just figued I'd leave it at this for now, so I can come back and finish later.

[Willow]

BLEEDING EYEBALLZ. that's awesome. Good job. <3 Write more. Now. I command thee.

[Joshua, the Wayne]

That is FREAKING epic. You own all writing skills I could ever hope to have. Epic. That's all I can say, truly epic.
Redcloaks for the win.