Yonowaru in Chaos
gaspard de la nuit
Two months and nineteen days. Gosh I hope bumping this thread is not breaking the rules...
Considering how -short- this part is, you readers might be a bit dissatisfied, but the next one'd be a delirium. Literally. I won't forgive myself if it wasn't xD
Anyway...rant away.
Opening -Bombing Mission- オープニング -爆破ミッション-
Flaykun turned around, to the wasteland expanse of jagged rocks and low-lying grasses and shrubs. They were too afraid; they dared not to hide from the ever-threatening weather, not to deny the Storm his victim. And yet, the cathedral was defiant. It stood boldly against the wind and whatever punishment the Storm was to throw at it, like a symbol of retribution. Centuries of erosion had worn it down to no more than a toppling ruin, but its sheer size and impossible architecture, teetering on the edge of the sky, where the brutal waves clashed with the cliff face below, was still much to behold.
It was not wise to travel by helicopter, but like the cathedral’s incarnation, Flaykun was defiant. He did not believe that there was anything the Sky could throw at him that he couldn’t handle. Dragonfly, however, a helicopter of taupe and Flaykun’s main mode of long-distance transport, was highly against his customs; it had seen too many repairs, and it was becoming apparent that it had had enough, hiding under the misty shadow of the cathedral on an unnaturally flat piece of ground.
He looked up towards the ancient spires, the apex surrounded by the imminent storm clouds, swirling around in an almost orbiting fashion. Sunlight filtered faintly through his clutches, but it was not enough to satisfy whatever was left of the stained glass windows. That was not to say it was ever enough to satisfy, for sunlight was a valuable resource when the Storm was resting, even though there were very few to take advantage of these rare moments.
‘Majestic,’ Flaykun whispered, his voice conforming to the wind. ‘If only I had come before the War.’
The wind picked up, almost like a response, blowing back his strand-like violet hair back. A light drizzle blew into his smooth face, the little of it that could be revealed behind a cape of ragged indigo. The island had a reputation of being assaulted by the weather’s violent temperament, but its current disposition gave no evidence of any such acts of aggression.
It would not be long, though, before the scales broke; it was merely a silence before a storm. As such, Flaykun had come equipped for the occasion: military-issued boots and armour of obsidian dark, synthetics of similar hue and with a heat-trapping design, complete with a coat for inconspicuousness. It was quite a contrast to see the Dragonfly somewhat lacking in weatherproofs.
It took unnaturally long for the storm clouds to gather, but when they had, Flaykun was already on the move.
He entered the cathedral, the cavity of the entrance threatening to teeter. He entered somewhat leisurely, each step with deliberation and stone-cold contempt. The roof was impossibly distant, as if its highest point was the sky. When he had reached the middle of a hall where his contempt had been made hostilely apparent by the resonating walls, he stopped. The entirety of the wall opposite Flaykun was covered in fresco, of the heavens and its messengers, of celestial bodies and the dragons of the sky. Stained glass decorated each alcove of unknown importance, and underneath, a single skeleton was enthroned, their stubborn pride evident in their postures. Flaykun ignored the fresco, instead proceeding to examine a skeleton on the left wall.
‘Long time no see, Tigress,’ Flaykun greeted to one, ‘you seem to be in pretty good shape.’
The skeleton he inquired was seated not as a pile of crumbling bones, but like an authoritarian figure, hollow eyes gazing generally at the opposite thrones, whose residents were of a similar posture.
‘Give it up, Tigress. You’re getting much too old for this.’
Though he did not expect it to reply, he seemed to be waiting for one. When he received none, he walked off, without farewell, and without a change in pace.
He wasn’t here to comfort or worship the dead – no; he was here to seek more serious negotiations with the caretaker here, wherever he was. No doubt, the caretaker, an old and wise creature dwelling amongst books, would have noticed his entrance, but his atypical absence was somewhat suspicious. Though an unexpected occurrence, Flaykun had pretty well deduced the conspirator behind the possible events (which he had also somehow deduced).
‘No one? Dang. Better make myself feel welcome then.’
His response came eerily- the cathedral had made his sarcastic comment morose and deceased. In spite of this, though, Flaykun felt all the more welcome, even if it was the cathedral’s intention to do so.
‘I wouldn’t like my tedious journey to be in vain. I’d urge you to show yourself,’ he reiterated, ‘I have a sincere urge to blow something up.’
He had purposely forced his voice to resonate, but that didn’t seem to be very effective for attracting attention.
Just when Flaykun was about to leave and consult one of his veritable pockets for explosives, a bolt of lightning had made its traces apparent, streaking across the right side of stained glass windows as it struck.
That was followed by a drop of thunder, akin with the resonance of an atomic bomb.
‘WAIT!’
It was not a request, it was a demand.
‘Ah…Rycuda has always loved his fanfare.’
Not out of fear, Flaykun had stopped in his tracks, his hand still in his coat pocket.
‘And yet, who do you think you are to shout in such an audacious tone?’ Flaykun asked. He was already in the vicinity of the wailing doorway and so far, he seemed rather impressed.
‘Don’t forget that you’re under arrest, Flaykun!’ Rycuda’s voice bellowed.
There was no need, Flaykun thought.
‘Quit ********ting and get to the point.’ He hadn’t bothered to turn around to examine the person so wanting to delay his departure. There was too many a day that he had seen his face – and his annoyingly awkward hair.
‘Oh, and by the way, that’s Doctor Flaykun, Rycuda. I’m still a psychologist regardless of my employment or criminal status.’
‘Don’t dare you move!’ Rycuda bellowed once more.
Flaykun did not remark on his use of obsolete English, but he snickered anyway. A snicker was hard to ignore in such a cavernous cathedral – but Rycuda dared not to reprimand. Although it was he who was after Flaykun, he knew very well who was in pole position to eliminate the other. For one, he knew that Flaykun had in his possession a readily prepared bomb in one hand.
Flaykun, however, had no intention of blowing anything up...at least, not now, when he was having so much fun abusing Rycuda’s abysmal EQ. It therefore came as quite bad news to hear nothing scolding from Rycuda about the snicker.
Meanwhile, Rycuda was at a loss of what to do. The situation certainly had turned out to be more awkward than he had expected. All Flaykun did was stand there. He wasn’t even facing him. He was much too inexperienced for this, Rycuda admitted.
On the other side, Flaykun had all the time he’d ever need. He knew that Rycuda lacked neither the courage nor the instinct to arrest him, which was augmented by the considerable distance placed between the two men. Rycuda would’ve been foolish to rush headlong to catch him, and despite his predictable nature, Flaykun certainly knew that Rycuda wasn’t that dim.
Rycuda, too, knew that he could not simply walk up to Flaykun to arrest him. The very thought of not being able to arrest a man of such close proximity was eating at his brain already. Rycuda was not aware of any time constraints – it was a stale war that could last indefinitely, and he could not bear the additional thought of the months he had spent tracking down Flaykun amounting to this. His options were out and he knew that Flaykun was welcome to leave to his desire.
‘You know I can stand here all day, Rycuda,’ Flaykun spoke at last, ‘I doubt you can do anything right now. There’s no need to waste each other’s time.’
Flaykun made the first step out, initiating his departure out of the cathedral.
It was not until he was well out of the cathedral that Rycuda decided to act.
‘Manectric!’ he bellowed, flinging a Pokeball in Flaykun’s general direction. With the help of the momentum from the throw, the resident of the Pokeball – a streak of lightning blue and tawny saffron - was able to pounce towards his target as it materialised from a crimson beam that the Pokeball had discharged.
But Flaykun was not caught unawares.
Likewise, Flaykun threw out a Pokeball, as if to counter Rycuda’s.
‘Block, Tangrowth,’ Flaykun issued, completely indifferent to the sudden shift of scenario.
A veritable mass of indigo belched out of Flaykun’s Pokeball. Within seconds of its advent, the seemingly liquid mass solidified, forming a wall as high as the cathedral doors. In fact, it had literally cemented itself within the exact mould of the cathedral doorway like a makeshift set of gates, excluding both entrance and exit.
Within seconds of Rycuda’s bellow, the flash of lightning, as nimble as a ninja, had flew into the wall, kamikaze-style.
Considering how -short- this part is, you readers might be a bit dissatisfied, but the next one'd be a delirium. Literally. I won't forgive myself if it wasn't xD
Anyway...rant away.
Opening -Bombing Mission- オープニング -爆破ミッション-
Flaykun turned around, to the wasteland expanse of jagged rocks and low-lying grasses and shrubs. They were too afraid; they dared not to hide from the ever-threatening weather, not to deny the Storm his victim. And yet, the cathedral was defiant. It stood boldly against the wind and whatever punishment the Storm was to throw at it, like a symbol of retribution. Centuries of erosion had worn it down to no more than a toppling ruin, but its sheer size and impossible architecture, teetering on the edge of the sky, where the brutal waves clashed with the cliff face below, was still much to behold.
It was not wise to travel by helicopter, but like the cathedral’s incarnation, Flaykun was defiant. He did not believe that there was anything the Sky could throw at him that he couldn’t handle. Dragonfly, however, a helicopter of taupe and Flaykun’s main mode of long-distance transport, was highly against his customs; it had seen too many repairs, and it was becoming apparent that it had had enough, hiding under the misty shadow of the cathedral on an unnaturally flat piece of ground.
He looked up towards the ancient spires, the apex surrounded by the imminent storm clouds, swirling around in an almost orbiting fashion. Sunlight filtered faintly through his clutches, but it was not enough to satisfy whatever was left of the stained glass windows. That was not to say it was ever enough to satisfy, for sunlight was a valuable resource when the Storm was resting, even though there were very few to take advantage of these rare moments.
‘Majestic,’ Flaykun whispered, his voice conforming to the wind. ‘If only I had come before the War.’
The wind picked up, almost like a response, blowing back his strand-like violet hair back. A light drizzle blew into his smooth face, the little of it that could be revealed behind a cape of ragged indigo. The island had a reputation of being assaulted by the weather’s violent temperament, but its current disposition gave no evidence of any such acts of aggression.
It would not be long, though, before the scales broke; it was merely a silence before a storm. As such, Flaykun had come equipped for the occasion: military-issued boots and armour of obsidian dark, synthetics of similar hue and with a heat-trapping design, complete with a coat for inconspicuousness. It was quite a contrast to see the Dragonfly somewhat lacking in weatherproofs.
It took unnaturally long for the storm clouds to gather, but when they had, Flaykun was already on the move.
He entered the cathedral, the cavity of the entrance threatening to teeter. He entered somewhat leisurely, each step with deliberation and stone-cold contempt. The roof was impossibly distant, as if its highest point was the sky. When he had reached the middle of a hall where his contempt had been made hostilely apparent by the resonating walls, he stopped. The entirety of the wall opposite Flaykun was covered in fresco, of the heavens and its messengers, of celestial bodies and the dragons of the sky. Stained glass decorated each alcove of unknown importance, and underneath, a single skeleton was enthroned, their stubborn pride evident in their postures. Flaykun ignored the fresco, instead proceeding to examine a skeleton on the left wall.
‘Long time no see, Tigress,’ Flaykun greeted to one, ‘you seem to be in pretty good shape.’
The skeleton he inquired was seated not as a pile of crumbling bones, but like an authoritarian figure, hollow eyes gazing generally at the opposite thrones, whose residents were of a similar posture.
‘Give it up, Tigress. You’re getting much too old for this.’
Though he did not expect it to reply, he seemed to be waiting for one. When he received none, he walked off, without farewell, and without a change in pace.
He wasn’t here to comfort or worship the dead – no; he was here to seek more serious negotiations with the caretaker here, wherever he was. No doubt, the caretaker, an old and wise creature dwelling amongst books, would have noticed his entrance, but his atypical absence was somewhat suspicious. Though an unexpected occurrence, Flaykun had pretty well deduced the conspirator behind the possible events (which he had also somehow deduced).
‘No one? Dang. Better make myself feel welcome then.’
His response came eerily- the cathedral had made his sarcastic comment morose and deceased. In spite of this, though, Flaykun felt all the more welcome, even if it was the cathedral’s intention to do so.
‘I wouldn’t like my tedious journey to be in vain. I’d urge you to show yourself,’ he reiterated, ‘I have a sincere urge to blow something up.’
He had purposely forced his voice to resonate, but that didn’t seem to be very effective for attracting attention.
Just when Flaykun was about to leave and consult one of his veritable pockets for explosives, a bolt of lightning had made its traces apparent, streaking across the right side of stained glass windows as it struck.
That was followed by a drop of thunder, akin with the resonance of an atomic bomb.
‘WAIT!’
It was not a request, it was a demand.
‘Ah…Rycuda has always loved his fanfare.’
Not out of fear, Flaykun had stopped in his tracks, his hand still in his coat pocket.
‘And yet, who do you think you are to shout in such an audacious tone?’ Flaykun asked. He was already in the vicinity of the wailing doorway and so far, he seemed rather impressed.
‘Don’t forget that you’re under arrest, Flaykun!’ Rycuda’s voice bellowed.
There was no need, Flaykun thought.
‘Quit ********ting and get to the point.’ He hadn’t bothered to turn around to examine the person so wanting to delay his departure. There was too many a day that he had seen his face – and his annoyingly awkward hair.
‘Oh, and by the way, that’s Doctor Flaykun, Rycuda. I’m still a psychologist regardless of my employment or criminal status.’
‘Don’t dare you move!’ Rycuda bellowed once more.
Flaykun did not remark on his use of obsolete English, but he snickered anyway. A snicker was hard to ignore in such a cavernous cathedral – but Rycuda dared not to reprimand. Although it was he who was after Flaykun, he knew very well who was in pole position to eliminate the other. For one, he knew that Flaykun had in his possession a readily prepared bomb in one hand.
Flaykun, however, had no intention of blowing anything up...at least, not now, when he was having so much fun abusing Rycuda’s abysmal EQ. It therefore came as quite bad news to hear nothing scolding from Rycuda about the snicker.
Meanwhile, Rycuda was at a loss of what to do. The situation certainly had turned out to be more awkward than he had expected. All Flaykun did was stand there. He wasn’t even facing him. He was much too inexperienced for this, Rycuda admitted.
On the other side, Flaykun had all the time he’d ever need. He knew that Rycuda lacked neither the courage nor the instinct to arrest him, which was augmented by the considerable distance placed between the two men. Rycuda would’ve been foolish to rush headlong to catch him, and despite his predictable nature, Flaykun certainly knew that Rycuda wasn’t that dim.
Rycuda, too, knew that he could not simply walk up to Flaykun to arrest him. The very thought of not being able to arrest a man of such close proximity was eating at his brain already. Rycuda was not aware of any time constraints – it was a stale war that could last indefinitely, and he could not bear the additional thought of the months he had spent tracking down Flaykun amounting to this. His options were out and he knew that Flaykun was welcome to leave to his desire.
‘You know I can stand here all day, Rycuda,’ Flaykun spoke at last, ‘I doubt you can do anything right now. There’s no need to waste each other’s time.’
Flaykun made the first step out, initiating his departure out of the cathedral.
It was not until he was well out of the cathedral that Rycuda decided to act.
‘Manectric!’ he bellowed, flinging a Pokeball in Flaykun’s general direction. With the help of the momentum from the throw, the resident of the Pokeball – a streak of lightning blue and tawny saffron - was able to pounce towards his target as it materialised from a crimson beam that the Pokeball had discharged.
But Flaykun was not caught unawares.
Likewise, Flaykun threw out a Pokeball, as if to counter Rycuda’s.
‘Block, Tangrowth,’ Flaykun issued, completely indifferent to the sudden shift of scenario.
A veritable mass of indigo belched out of Flaykun’s Pokeball. Within seconds of its advent, the seemingly liquid mass solidified, forming a wall as high as the cathedral doors. In fact, it had literally cemented itself within the exact mould of the cathedral doorway like a makeshift set of gates, excluding both entrance and exit.
Within seconds of Rycuda’s bellow, the flash of lightning, as nimble as a ninja, had flew into the wall, kamikaze-style.
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