12-08-2018, 01:52 AM
(This post was last modified: 12-08-2018, 01:58 AM by clarence a..)
[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]Clarence was just trying to take a walk. He enjoyed this life. It was peaceful. So far, there weren't any wars and there was no more fighting. He was so sick of fighting. He'd never wanted anything to do with it to begin with and then there was Finnis... That terrible last sight. Why did that have to be the last thing he'd seen? He'd called out for the man to react, he'd done his best to get to him, but it hadn't been enough. He could still remember the bullet tearing through his own flesh as his friend, his Lieutenant was speared through by a sword. He'd tried to keep moving, even after he was hit. He was the only surgeon aboard the Queen Charlotte. He could make it. He could still save him. But then something or someone had ran into him and he'd fallen overboard into a freezing September lake. He'd done his best to move but his arm, the one that'd been shot, was unresponsive and he'd fallen asleep in those depths before waking up in the Ascendants. Then he'd come here. Not permanently, of course, this was more of a curiosity than anything. He wanted to get to know whatever creatures resided here and learn more about this strange world of talking animals.
Then there was that sound. Almost like a sense completely attached to danger, he heard the cries before anyone else it seemed. Without hesitation, the panther began to run towards the noise. That was what he was trained to do, after all. Run towards the thing that was about to kill him. When he arrived and saw the man, Bucky if he remembered right, fighting against some greater creature, he felt his breath catch in his throat.
It was raining. Why was it always raining on terrible days? Maybe the old legends were right; storms were a bad omen, especially out on the sea. The fight had dragged on for days. It seemed the French were mostly held back for the time being but then he saw a new wave of them. He saw them too late. "Finnis!" The cry was in vain and he knew it, but still he forced himself forward. "Finnis!" Gunshots overpowered his voice and hot metal tore through his shoulder.
He could remember when they originally left on the journey. When he knew what Finnis must know about him. He'd stepped into that tiny space they'd given the Lieutenant as an office and spoke, "Sir, you have no idea how grateful I am. I owe you both my sister and I's life." There was silence following that for quite some time as the other man regarded him thoughtfully. Then a slight turn of his mouth.
"You don't owe me your life, Aston, nor your sister's. I think you'll do just fine here."
"Of course, sir. I owe you more than that, don't I, after all of this? Our souls would be better for this particular exchange."
And so the story went of how Finnis gained ownership to Clarence Aston's soul. Anything to save him from the rumors and fire of witchcraft.
All of this dawned on him in the matter of seconds. There was still a man before him. Finnis. Someone was hurting Finnis again. Without thought, instinct being his only force, the man rushed forward and attempted to tackle the large being and sink his claws into it's pelt. "Go!" he shouted the word, likely towards Bucky, although it wasn't entirely clear. He only thought of one thing. Keeping the man, his Lieutenant, safe. That was all that mattered. He would do it right this time. He did owe him his soul, after all.
Then there was that sound. Almost like a sense completely attached to danger, he heard the cries before anyone else it seemed. Without hesitation, the panther began to run towards the noise. That was what he was trained to do, after all. Run towards the thing that was about to kill him. When he arrived and saw the man, Bucky if he remembered right, fighting against some greater creature, he felt his breath catch in his throat.
It was raining. Why was it always raining on terrible days? Maybe the old legends were right; storms were a bad omen, especially out on the sea. The fight had dragged on for days. It seemed the French were mostly held back for the time being but then he saw a new wave of them. He saw them too late. "Finnis!" The cry was in vain and he knew it, but still he forced himself forward. "Finnis!" Gunshots overpowered his voice and hot metal tore through his shoulder.
He could remember when they originally left on the journey. When he knew what Finnis must know about him. He'd stepped into that tiny space they'd given the Lieutenant as an office and spoke, "Sir, you have no idea how grateful I am. I owe you both my sister and I's life." There was silence following that for quite some time as the other man regarded him thoughtfully. Then a slight turn of his mouth.
"You don't owe me your life, Aston, nor your sister's. I think you'll do just fine here."
"Of course, sir. I owe you more than that, don't I, after all of this? Our souls would be better for this particular exchange."
And so the story went of how Finnis gained ownership to Clarence Aston's soul. Anything to save him from the rumors and fire of witchcraft.
All of this dawned on him in the matter of seconds. There was still a man before him. Finnis. Someone was hurting Finnis again. Without thought, instinct being his only force, the man rushed forward and attempted to tackle the large being and sink his claws into it's pelt. "Go!" he shouted the word, likely towards Bucky, although it wasn't entirely clear. He only thought of one thing. Keeping the man, his Lieutenant, safe. That was all that mattered. He would do it right this time. He did owe him his soul, after all.