You can run... (Solo)

Altar awoke, his eyes slowly opening against the bright sun somehow streaking in from his window. He had tried all he could to cover the damned thing, but light still managed to find it's way in. He pushed himself up, rolling over and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress for a second, pushing a hand through his slightly ruffled hair. He got up, running his hand over his slightly scarred right shoulder. After all these years, the wounds still hadn't fully healed. Traces of the dragon etched into his shoulder still remained, hence why he had always covered hs arms. He guessed glass cut deeper than most other things, then... He hopped in the shower, and ran through his normal morning routine before going outside to walk around and explore for a good while.

As Altar walked outside, he looked around and saw a man that didn't look like he belonged. He stuck out from the crowd quite obviously, and turned and walked away after Altar had come out. Altar looked behind him, then decided to follow this man for a while. He snaked his way through the crowd, ignoring anyone he bumped into. Altar followed with ease, as he had lots of practice dodging through crowds. After following the man half through the town, he made sudden turn down an alley. Altar decided to stop following him there, but spared a glance down the alleyway as he passed by it. Quite a ways down, there was a gathering of a few men, and they were all staring right at Altar...

After another few hours, the sun was starting to set instead of rise, and Altar was still roaming the streets. Occasionaly, he'd see the man out of the corner of his eye, but he dismissed it as his mind playing tricks on him. Not minding that, he continued walking, until he saw another man. Then another, and another...there was now a line of men, all strangely dressed, and staring him down. Altar took a moment to observe his surroundings, noticing that no one would see anything down the path he had absent-mindedly chosen to walk. He prepared himself to fight, when suddenly he heard a sharp whistle behind him, and something knocked into the back of his head. Altar fell to the ground, everything fading to black arond him. He heard one of the men say something before he was completely out... "This one'll do fine, boys. Bag him up and get him back to camp"

Altar awoke, confined in a dark, small space. he could feel himself moving, like someone was carrying him, but it felt like he was upside down. He tried shifting arond, the walls of his prison giving a bit, and that gave him the opportunity to feel around. The walls felt like cloth. Was he in a bag? He tried squirming, but he suddenly stopped moving and felt impact with the ground. Pain erupted from the back of his head, as his hand moved around to grasp at it. He gingerly felt at his head, his hand coming away slightly damp and sticky. He was bleeding, a lot. He heard a man's voice outside, but couldn't make out just what it was trying to say. Suddenly, a sharp jolt of pain came from his chest as someone kicked him, a few times. Altar coughed, holding his chest. That felt like it gave some busted ribs, he thought, as he was picked up and carried again. Altar gave up squirming and moving, he was in too much pain. This looked to be the end of him, kidnapped and murdered by some thieves or bandits or something... Altar gave a sigh as he thought of his resignation to death. At least he'd be free of this world. All of a sudden, Altar felt a pull at the back of his mind. It felt like something was trying to get his attention. He closed his eyes and focused, slowly, on the tug at his brain. He could almost make out a voice, it seemed. "Al...can't...give...yet...dissa..." The broken words echoed through his mind. Altar concentrated, focusing solely on the words and the pull. This time, the voice was clearer, the sentence more formed. "Altar, you can't give up yet. Don't dissapoint me, you're better than that" What? Altar didn't know this voice, but the feminine voice...soothed him. It made him feel better, like he could come back from this. It made him believe in himself. Thinking to himself, he decided to ask the disembodied voice a question. "Who are you?" he asked it, hoping deseratly for a response. He wanted to know this girl, and more importantly, how she had gotten into his head. "My name is Nekoda. Think of me as part of you. I can explain, but you have to trust me. I need you to focus only on my voice." Could he trust her? Well, it seemed to be either death or this, so what the hell, might as well try. Altar focused solely on Nekoda' voice, and felt himself slowly melt away from the real world, into something much more...dreamlike. Suddenly, everything went dark. Altar felt like he was falling, and landed with a thud on the ground. As he looked around, he noticed that he had fallen into a seemingly endless black abyss. He had landed on a single platform, which was curtained in light, but surrounded by pitch black. The platform had a nice berth to it, it was a decent sized area. As he looked around, Altar's gaze came to rest on a figure, standing across from him in the lighted circle. He slowly rose to his feet, preparing himself to fight as he walked slowly closer to the person. It appeared to be a girl, about his age. She had long blonde hair, about waist length. She wore a mute blue button sweater, and faded jeans. As Altar neared her, he felt an aura of relaxation and peace wash over him. His eyes widened at the now foreign feelings. He'd become near immune to them, and yet she made him feel them by just being in proximity. He realized that this girl didn't pose a threat, as he closed the gap between them and stood before her at a comfortable distance. She was slightly shorter than him, and looked up, smiling at him. "Altar, i've been waiting to meet you like this. I'm Nekoda." she said, her smile never fading. "Well, I hope you're ready for questions, Nekoda. Where are we, who are you, and why am I here?" Altar asked Nekoda, hoping he'd get answers to all his questions. "Don't worry, i've been expecting the questions. We're in your mind, a place where only you and I can talk, and a place only I can pull you. For me, it's home. You're here because I need to tell you how to save yourself, and it's easier to talk face-to-face, and I like it better. And as for who I am, that's a bit tougher to explain. I'm your Yuumei. I'm part of you, but a seperate entity inside your head. That's the easiest way to describe it." Nekoda explained. Altar looked at her, his face a dying shade of crimson from the un-expected compliment. He had to admit, she was a pretty girl, gorgeous even, especially with the way her deep blue eyes sparkled when she looked at him. But, if what she just said had been true, then she was just a part of himself, and there was no way that was happening. He wasn't THAT desperate. Altar came out of his thoughts to see Nekoda looking at him. He nodded at her, signifying his understanding of what she had said. "So you said that I can save myself, Nekoda. How?" Altar asked, scanning her up and down. She didn't look that strong, and besides, she was trapped in his mind. "You have power locked in you, Altar. Haven't you ever wondered why your eyes are crimson? That doesn't just happen normally. That's your power, you just need to tap into it. And to tap into it, you just need to try hard enough, and be concious and at peace with the power. But be warned, power consumes. With your newfound power, your murderous intent will only grow." Nekoda warned him, moving closer to him, her tone growing more serious with every step. "It's nothing I can't handle. Just put me back and let me save myself. There'll be time for us to talk later. After all, you're stuck with me, aren't you?" Altar asked, a smirk growing on his face. "It's not as bad a punishment as you think. Now, let yourself drift back to the real world, but don't forget my words. Heed them, Altar, and take them to heart." she said, a sly smile gracing her lips as she backed away from Altar and sat down on the platform. Altar waved goodbye to Nekoda, closing his eyes and letting himself drift back...

Altar's eyes snapped open as the feeling of being moved came back. He took a second to survey his situation, which hadn't changed. He immediatly began focusing and straining to push power to his eyes, trying to make anything happen. Suddenly, he felt power burst through his body. He could feel a slight strain on his eyes, but nothing to cause pain or discomfort. Altar dug his nails in and ripped through the cloth bag, falling to the ground and rolling back to his feet. He strained his eyes again, trying to see in the dark, his eyes rapidly adjusting. He counted 5 men, heavily armed with melee weapons, now drawn. They were all closing in on him from different sides. One charged him with a sword in each hand, swinging wildly. Altar ducked to the left, spinning around and kicking him in the back of the head. The man collapsed to one knee, and Altar finished the spin, grabbing the man's right hand and tourquing the left arm behind his back. He drew the right hand across the man's throat, the sword following close after it, slitting his throat. Altar dropped the body and spun around to face the remaining four, who were now closer and almost within arms reach. One swung a right fist at him, which Altar grabbed and spun around, spinning the man in a circle and throwing him into another. The man on Altar's left decided to take this as an opportunity, and thrust at him with a kunai in hand. Altar grabbed the man by the wrist and slammed his hand into the man's elbow, breaking the bone. Altar then caught the kunai mid-drop, and swung it diagonally upwards and left, slashing across the man's throat. Altar threw the kunai to the last standing man, who dodged it and jumped at him. Altar dashed forward, the man landing behind him, and turned around to grab the man's arm and wrap it around his own neck, giving it a sudden pull as a sharp crack echoed out, signifying the broken neck. The man whom Altar had thrown another at now stood, his ally dead with a katana sticking out of his stomach. The man finished standing straight up, charging at Altar, who dodged and kneed the man in the stomach, hard enough to drive the wind out of him. Altar pushed him back, holding the man by the throat and giving a strong tug, ripping out his jugular. The man fell back, choking to death on his own blood. As the man fell back, a warm splash fell on Altar's face, as well as his clothes. He wiped the war, sticky crimson off his face, swallowing the portion that had gotten into his mouth, savoring the iron taste of fresh blood. He looked at the flesh in his hand. This was who he was when no one was around. He was a true, psychotic, cold-blooded killer. Nekoda's words echoed through his head. "But be warned, power consumes. With your newfound power, your murderous intent will only grow." Altar realized he couldn't let himself hurt anyone he cared about. Not again, not after last time. Altar emptied his hands and brushed his hand over his right shoulder, the sleeve of the coat covering the scars organized in the pattern of a dragon. Funny how his name changed everywhere he went, but his true namesake stuck with him, just out of sight. On that day, he had carved the dragon into his shoulder. He had become what he had feared, what his family had feared. He had lost his only true family that day. "I have lived up to my namesake. I have become a black dragon. A beast with no heart, no regard for life, and no emotion. I herald death everywhere I walk." Altar thought, his eyes fogging again. In his head, he heard Nekoda's voice. "No. You are not what you once were. You feel. You spare. You are not the beast you had turned into. You walk a line of dark and light. Only one may be saved, while the other is consumed. You now walk in between. Later, you will choose one, and I know you will choose right. I have faith in you, Altar. And I am always here for you." she said. Her words touched Altar, tears almost forming in his cold eyes as he looked at the bodies strewn across the ground, pools of deep crimson forming everywhere. Ringlets began forming in the puddles as rain began to fall, washing the blood off of Altar. He turned and began walking home, wondering if Nekoda was right. It seemed no matter where he turned, his past followed him. "I guess the old saying is true. You can run..." Altar started thinking.  "...but you can't hide. Your past will always find and follow you. It's not something you can run from." Nekoda finished for him. "Gee, thanks for the support, love. Really enjoying you being here for me all the time now." Altar thought, taking a sarcastic tone, and grinning as he heard Nekoda give a slight giggle at his remark. Maybe this whole Yuumei thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

~TWC: 2396~
~Meigan Activated - Guren: Crimson Lotus~

Where are yous stats?