Lulu_used_SunnyDay
Petal Blizzard
I suddently had the urge to write something in english, and surprisingly enough I've had a few ideas to make it become an actual story.
If you reviwe this, please keep in mind that I'm mostly willing to know if the english it's written in is acceptable enough for me to continue. Thanks
The White Knight
As an old Escavalier is about to face the beginning of a huge war who will determine the ruler of his motherland, he must also look out for the dangers coming from his own side: Comrades losing faith in him, traitors, and more fierce enemies emerging from a dark secret he thought he could hide forever. - Rated R for (future) descriptive violence.
It was a grey, hot evening when they last played together. A pearl-coated sky that would disguise that peaceful summer night for a winter morning, hiding the sun’s invisible yet warming rays, stretched above their heads, limitless, boundless, as to make them feel even more tiny and insignificant in that vast, cruel world they were forced to live in.
Crosto was bleeding pretty badly. Even though the small Shelmet was too proud to let his shell open for his friend to see him covered in red, it was all too obvious the young Rufflets had left a heavy mark on him. So Coil screamed. He cried out for help, even knowing how useless it would be, how miserably weak was his voice in his thin and underdeveloped throat, and how fast his playmate was losing strength. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even try to search around, to let his slow, clumsy legs consume his last bits of energy to take him for a few, useless steps further into that rotten wasteland.
He just let his breath come out into screechy, desperate sounds, guided more by the impelling need to let a small imitation of the growing pain in his heart explode out of him than a conscious attempt to save his beloved friend, to save them both.
Until the dying Shelmet whispered something beside him. Then, the Karrablast’s desperate cries suddenly stopped, as he dropped on his tiny knees to meet Crosto’s eyes.
-C-Crosto…..
-Coil……. I’m sorry.
-Hang on! Just…! Please don’t give up! I’m sure somebody will have to come around soon..
-It’s all right, Coil.
-You mean you can walk?
-No, I just….
-Don’t do this to me, Crosto, please! Stay with me!
-I’m gonna be ok, Coil, believe me. But I need…
-Water! Of course! There must be…
-No, Coil, listen…I…need you to…
-Don’t say it.
-When I’m gone, h-hurry up and…and…………….…ooooh…..
-You’re not gonna die, Crosto!
-Take it, Coil. Take…………..my armor….
The Karrablast started screaming so loud he never heard what else his friend had said before dying. And he would regret it for the rest of his life. But at the same time he knew he couldn’t have helped it. The sudden silence that devoured the land as Crosto’s lifetime expired, as gently and swiftly as a small breeze moving the tall grass around him, was too much to handle.
He even remembered wishing, before finally deciding to obey his friend’s dying wish, that one of those damned eagles would see the shining occasion for a meal he was offering and let him end his pitiful suffering on the spot.
But, as his father often liked to repeat, he was born to be a warrior. A fighter. A pokemon that many would one day look up to. And so, as if to obey the silent bond that destiny decided to forge with him, he pulled Crosto’s corpse out of its iron-hard enclosure, clumsily wore it and started trudging towards the hills, slowly making his way towards home…
-Sir Shell…….
The absence of response from his superior made the Bisharp even more nervous than he already was. He cleared his throat and forced himself to raise his voice
-Sir! It is time!
-Hhnnnnmph.
The Escavalier already heard him the first time. He just didn’t want to open his eyes so soon, and let the light of a too early morning discourage him from what had to be done that day. He was also still busy clearing his mind of the remaining fragments of a dream. An old, unpleasant dream he hadn’t dreamt for a long time. The fact that it came back to visit his busy mind that very night surely wasn’t a good sign, and even though he wasn’t superstitious, he needed to hear the Bisharp’s voice just another time to get rid of the bad feeling the thought was giving him.
In fact, he secretly enjoyed the way the rookies were usually intimidated by him. Oh, he did remember the time when he was just like the young soldier that was sent to wake him up: young, inexperienced and in awe for everything the training fields had to offer, but also scared out of his mind every time he had to deal with a high rank veteran, whether it was in or outside the battle tournaments. It just gave him that sense of accomplishment that reminded him every day of the progress he had made over his career and proved, once again, that a new circle was completed.
So as he stepped out of his tent he smiled friendlily to the youngster.
-I’m awake. Awake and ready for it all. Are you, Samler?
He added, turning serious.
-Y-yes, Sir!
-Good.
Shell smiled again. He didn’t fail to notice Sam’s hesitation, but at least he tried to pull a strong face.
They steadily moved towards the core of the camp. Numerous other pokemon were up early as well, and were already waiting for them on the observation cliff. Captain Zoroark hastily offered a formal greeting and then proceeded to recap the main points of the offensive plan. Shell was only half listening.
His gaze started to wonder around the large valley that extended beneath their high position, then back at the unorganized mass of tents that circled around the grassy training area, enclosed in an ring of tall white rocks. He looked back at the mountains, as far as they’ve always been, never caring about their struggles for survival, never ceasing to shine of their beauty in the faint light of the morning sun.
The Escavalier sighed. It was going to be a long day indeed.
If you reviwe this, please keep in mind that I'm mostly willing to know if the english it's written in is acceptable enough for me to continue. Thanks
The White Knight
As an old Escavalier is about to face the beginning of a huge war who will determine the ruler of his motherland, he must also look out for the dangers coming from his own side: Comrades losing faith in him, traitors, and more fierce enemies emerging from a dark secret he thought he could hide forever. - Rated R for (future) descriptive violence.
Chapter 1
It was a grey, hot evening when they last played together. A pearl-coated sky that would disguise that peaceful summer night for a winter morning, hiding the sun’s invisible yet warming rays, stretched above their heads, limitless, boundless, as to make them feel even more tiny and insignificant in that vast, cruel world they were forced to live in.
Crosto was bleeding pretty badly. Even though the small Shelmet was too proud to let his shell open for his friend to see him covered in red, it was all too obvious the young Rufflets had left a heavy mark on him. So Coil screamed. He cried out for help, even knowing how useless it would be, how miserably weak was his voice in his thin and underdeveloped throat, and how fast his playmate was losing strength. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even try to search around, to let his slow, clumsy legs consume his last bits of energy to take him for a few, useless steps further into that rotten wasteland.
He just let his breath come out into screechy, desperate sounds, guided more by the impelling need to let a small imitation of the growing pain in his heart explode out of him than a conscious attempt to save his beloved friend, to save them both.
Until the dying Shelmet whispered something beside him. Then, the Karrablast’s desperate cries suddenly stopped, as he dropped on his tiny knees to meet Crosto’s eyes.
-C-Crosto…..
-Coil……. I’m sorry.
-Hang on! Just…! Please don’t give up! I’m sure somebody will have to come around soon..
-It’s all right, Coil.
-You mean you can walk?
-No, I just….
-Don’t do this to me, Crosto, please! Stay with me!
-I’m gonna be ok, Coil, believe me. But I need…
-Water! Of course! There must be…
-No, Coil, listen…I…need you to…
-Don’t say it.
-When I’m gone, h-hurry up and…and…………….…ooooh…..
-You’re not gonna die, Crosto!
-Take it, Coil. Take…………..my armor….
The Karrablast started screaming so loud he never heard what else his friend had said before dying. And he would regret it for the rest of his life. But at the same time he knew he couldn’t have helped it. The sudden silence that devoured the land as Crosto’s lifetime expired, as gently and swiftly as a small breeze moving the tall grass around him, was too much to handle.
He even remembered wishing, before finally deciding to obey his friend’s dying wish, that one of those damned eagles would see the shining occasion for a meal he was offering and let him end his pitiful suffering on the spot.
But, as his father often liked to repeat, he was born to be a warrior. A fighter. A pokemon that many would one day look up to. And so, as if to obey the silent bond that destiny decided to forge with him, he pulled Crosto’s corpse out of its iron-hard enclosure, clumsily wore it and started trudging towards the hills, slowly making his way towards home…
-Sir Shell…….
The absence of response from his superior made the Bisharp even more nervous than he already was. He cleared his throat and forced himself to raise his voice
-Sir! It is time!
-Hhnnnnmph.
The Escavalier already heard him the first time. He just didn’t want to open his eyes so soon, and let the light of a too early morning discourage him from what had to be done that day. He was also still busy clearing his mind of the remaining fragments of a dream. An old, unpleasant dream he hadn’t dreamt for a long time. The fact that it came back to visit his busy mind that very night surely wasn’t a good sign, and even though he wasn’t superstitious, he needed to hear the Bisharp’s voice just another time to get rid of the bad feeling the thought was giving him.
In fact, he secretly enjoyed the way the rookies were usually intimidated by him. Oh, he did remember the time when he was just like the young soldier that was sent to wake him up: young, inexperienced and in awe for everything the training fields had to offer, but also scared out of his mind every time he had to deal with a high rank veteran, whether it was in or outside the battle tournaments. It just gave him that sense of accomplishment that reminded him every day of the progress he had made over his career and proved, once again, that a new circle was completed.
So as he stepped out of his tent he smiled friendlily to the youngster.
-I’m awake. Awake and ready for it all. Are you, Samler?
He added, turning serious.
-Y-yes, Sir!
-Good.
Shell smiled again. He didn’t fail to notice Sam’s hesitation, but at least he tried to pull a strong face.
They steadily moved towards the core of the camp. Numerous other pokemon were up early as well, and were already waiting for them on the observation cliff. Captain Zoroark hastily offered a formal greeting and then proceeded to recap the main points of the offensive plan. Shell was only half listening.
His gaze started to wonder around the large valley that extended beneath their high position, then back at the unorganized mass of tents that circled around the grassy training area, enclosed in an ring of tall white rocks. He looked back at the mountains, as far as they’ve always been, never caring about their struggles for survival, never ceasing to shine of their beauty in the faint light of the morning sun.
The Escavalier sighed. It was going to be a long day indeed.
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