Xiltas picks up the pen

[Xiltas Crysten]

I doubt anyone really knows (aside from Kitty of Time), but my goal in life is to become a novelist, currently writing a book (while trying to make a patch...*shrug*). Mostly, I write stuff for my hack (or book, though I'm mostly scrapping stuff for the latter <.<), yet sometimes I have an idea not affiliated with any of my projects, and I think I'll start releasing those ideas written down. Forgive me if my spelling or grammar or anything is not correct, I'm trying my best (as a not native speaker).

The following text is the A-support between Matthew and Legault in novel form. I always liked Matthew, and the conversation was quite touching, so I thought I should give it a shot. I'd be happy about feedback.

This time, I won’t let him get away. He will reveal everything to me, no matter what, thought Matthew. With this single thought in mind the young spy hurried across the battlefield, focused on finding the man once called Hurricane. It didn’t take him very long, since he had studied the battle orders Legault received beforehand.

“Hm? What, you again? More questions to me?” Legault said in his own, deigning way. Shaking his head, he continued: “No one trusts me. Even after all the rambling I did earlier.”

Matthew took one step towards his target. “There’s one other important thing I haven’t asked you. “ The look on the enigmatic, young man’s face became even sterner as he spoke those words: “Why did you betray the Black Fang?” He knew he touched a nerve, even though the expression of his opposite hadn’t changed one bit.

“…Do I really have to go into all of this?” Matthew’s face gave him the answer.

“…Ok, I see. I hope you got time, lad.” Legault’s countenance softened as he started to speak again: “I like the Black Fang the way they used to be. The commander was a father figure, Lloyd, Linus, Jan and Uhai… There was nothing to be suspicious of then. We believed in our own righteousness. But we can’t go back…Back to the good old days. You understand, right. Right?”

The spy stayed silent while watching every movement Legault made, in case he decided to end the conversation by running away. But he continued nonetheless.

“Sonia’s arrival marked the beginning of the end. The change came slowly. The Fang… rotted away bit by bit. And it was all the doing of one creepy villain: Nergal.” The pain in his voice was clearly audible, showing the scars’ those dark memories had caused him, but it seemed that the more he revealed of his past, the more he wanted to make this young person in front of him understand his past behavior.

“The Fang changed. And so did our work. Those who had no taste for killing, the wounded who couldn’t work… We started receiving orders to kill these innocents as well. And then…” Long strands of hair dropped into Legault’s face as he hung his head, unable to hold Matthew’s gaze as his inner pain increased. He slightly wavered as he once again carried on to speak: “…Some stranger ordered me to kill a wounded companion of mine. Her name was Aesha. A woman I’d worked with for years. She had made a mistake, and her wound cost her her skill at killing. Her career as an assassin was over. But she shouldn’t have to die for that. She could have lived in a village somewhere… She should have had many days of happiness ahead of her. But… I, with this hand, I…”

The Hurricane’s right hand trembled as he looked at it. “…took her life.” Even though the thief couldn’t see his face, he was sure that he saw a single tear drop to the ground as his counterpart clinched his hand into a fist. “That’s when it started. That’s when I started thinking about getting out.” Legault raised his head and looked steadily into Matthews’ eyes, and regaining his composure, he asked him: “That’s it. You satisfied?”

Matthew thought about how this aging assassin must have felt as he took the life of a person he surely loved… Just like he felt responsible for Leila’s death, letting her return to the Black Fang despite knowing that it could mean her demise. Trying to find the right words, he broke his silence: “…Uhm… Legault?” “Hm?” “I’m sorry.” A sarcastic grin broadened on Legault’s face. “What’s this? Hearing you say that just made my day.” The young spy’s voice sounded just a little angry at first before he chastened his temper: “Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t trust you any more than before. But… Everyone’s got a place in their hearts that they don’t want to be touched… That’s it.” “Eh…” Legault was ready for everything. Everything, just not the words he just heard. Unsure what to say, he lay a hand on the shoulder of his young companion, and his mouth formed into an honest smile. “Matthew, you are a good kid. It’s a shame to waste you as a spy.” Now it was Matthew’s turn to grin sheepishly, and as he turned his back on his new-won friend to depart to the battlefield once again, he quietly said: “Oh, shut up.”

[Xiltas Crysten]

Okay, I know there was one comment (which was not helpful at all), which isn't here anymore... Doesn't matter, I guess.

So yeah, I tried myself on a poem this time. Hope you like it:

It happened again, without me realizing it.

The hours went by faster than I noticed. The night has advanced.

My mind is restless, searching for an answer I already know I won't find.

I look everywhere, to find a cure for the anxiety driving me.

I don't know how many texts I've read, how many people I've listened to...

So many voices, but is there truth among them?

Or is it just the sad cry of those who feel let down by the creators?

A last ray of hope, but of questionable validity?

The question that's haunting me... that's haunting them...

Was his death a lie? Did his journey really end?

Or was it just a mirage, created by those who wield Death as their name, to fulfill their sinister goal?

Is the journey over? With such an unsatisfying destination?

We cling to one last straw, refusing to let it go...

That it was only an illusion, that the journey has yet to come to an end.

Time passes... and I continue to hope.

Yet it seems... that this last ray of hope is only an illusion that we created for ourselves.

To ignore the fact that the tale... is over.

The shepherd guiding us is gone.

Well, any guesses what I wrote about?