T
The Fox and The Spider
Guest
Original poster
Life, was chaotic by nature. Even in death no rest could be found. The predators of today proved more vicarious and gluttonous then those of yesterday. For unbeknownst to the living, a timeless war to maintain equilibrium was being waged. In the streets; but also in the hearts of both the living and the dead. Monstrosities with the power few mortals could fathom. Feasted on the souls of both the living and dead. Like a pig they gorged till they could gorge no more. A vicious cycle which has claimed more lives then one could mentally grasp. And in the wake of our loved one's passing. The true victims to this insipid venom can be found. It was those the dead left behind. A hole and void capable of weighing down the most battle harden soul.
Corrosively these parasites eat away at the foundation and if it were not for the intervention of a few. Armageddon would descend on all worlds as the balance necessary to keep order succumb to the decaying touch of chaos. These few strong yet brave souls went by many names. However they were just mere titles. None of which did them justice in the eyes of Syn. Yet it was natural for the living to cling to the delusion of a name. Proudly these warriors of equilibrium waltzed with death. Traversing an endless raging sea of pain and loss. Their souls marked by blood and their shadow gripped by the talons of the raven. They were neither mortal nor dead. And though other hunters lurked both in the light and shadows. Arrogantly this group thought themselves as the greatest.
Reclusive by nature they left very few traces of their existence. The mark of their aura and spiritual pressure seemed minute and mute compared to the bigger threats, which diverted the attention of the proclaimed other guardians. Guardians who went by the name of soul reapers. Still if one cared to listen and focused with unwavering resolve. They could feel the vibrations of the strings of energy left behind. It would reverberate with their own in harmony. It's music though unable to be heard. Could be felt like the thunderous concluding act of an opera. Stirring various emotions. And though these beings preferred to stray from the eyes of the public. Once more one of their strongest members would find herself venturing into the modern concrete wasteland. A world filled with sin and vice. Her mission was simple, to safe guard to region and provide justice. To sacrifice her wants and needs for that of others. People who are incapable of knowing her name or seeing her face.
She was a ghost to them. A myth at best. Some rumors abound due to a few which could see her form. However they've been chopped to mere urban legends. Her existence used as a prank amongst the various teenagers and young adults of this neon lit city. Silently their guardian could be found. Sitting on the ledge of a rooftop. Her back resting on a gargoyle as her feet dangled off the ledge. Her blonde hair blowing in the breeze as those frigid eyes of her's watched and waited. Vigilantly she would stand her post. Watching as the cars on the street and the multitude of the local populace passed her by. The mechanical birds of this world soaring high in the air. Yet despite all these marvelous achievements. It seemed they were incapable of noticing her presence. A faint yet rare smile crept on her lips. So mild that at first one would fail to notice.
"Amongst a garden of weeds. a single flowers blooms. Despite roots being choked, this beauty abounds. And though despised by the weeds, her beauty still shines through. Providing them with a radiant light. A light that pierces the blanket of death which inhabits the field. And though she may die, from her seeds more will rise. Till the weeds of the field are no more. Till such blights are but stories abhorred." She whispered to herself. Her words deeply poetic. But one of various meditative chants her people clung to. A reminder of their purpose used to restore resolve when the burden of their fate becomes far too immense for their shoulders to carry.
If one could see her they would take note of her alien attire to some, but familiar to a few. She wore the uniform of a captain modified for her body. However it belonged not to her. Rather toward someone special in her life. Which sacrificed himself for her. Birthing her awakening and newly founded role in this world. Out of respect she wore not only his clothes...But also bore his blade. And despite his passing the blade wouldn't fade. rather it remained whole. a sight which would surprise most and most likely stir up anger amongst soul reapers. Where they would see disrespect she saw only honor. The weapons and skills of their loved ones are passed to those which remain. They become one with it and honor them with each demon they slew. Such was their way...
