A scream rang out through Ventry Bay, the same scream that’d pierced each night since Argyle had taken up residence on the Weeping Isle. The other Soundless had gotten used to it by now and had long since stopped coming to check up on him. Now he was left alone, left in the silence of the night, with his nightmares and memories as his only company. It baffled him how the nightmare still persisted after all these years, even after he’d cut himself off from the dream. He’d never heard of the other soundless having such problems. In fact it was quite the opposite. They had all managed to completely cut themselves off from the dream, never getting visions of their loved ones come to plague them when night fell and sleep took over. Argyle got up from his cot of leaves, walking over to the basin and filling it with water from the bucket nearby. He splashed his face with water, letting the droplets cascade down his scared face. Once the rippled had cleared he looked down at his reflection, his emotionless eyes falling on the scar. The scar was hideous, stretching from his jaw on the left side of his face, going all the way up to his temple on the right side. To this day it still pulsated angrily, red sap glowing just below the surface. It was a constant reminder of his failure and something that he did not think he deserved to heal fully. Plunging his hands back into the water, he began to wash them, working up a soapy lather. He washed meticulously, making sure to get under every nook and cranny. Even when his hands were completely clean with no possibility of getting any cleaner he kept going, his mind drifting to the nightmare. It was the same nightmare every night, with no deviation. Maybe nightmare was even the wrong word. It was more of a memory of what was. He’d been young and foolish back then, he’d even been happy. But like all things, it had to come to an end. He recalled every detail of how the events leading up to his fall first transpired with incredible accuracy. Even now, as he faded into memories, he could not quite believe it had all happened. ------------------- Argyle beamed. His smile went from ear to ear as Sylvana regaled his of tales of her travels. The petite Sylvari’s red foliage bounced around as she spoke, waving her hands animatedly. He hung on Sylvana’s every word, laughing loudly at the jokes she told and staring in awe at her descriptions of the sights she had seen. Argyle had never been out of Caledon, staying close to the Grove and his duties. He’d joined the Wardens shortly after his awakening and hadn’t travelled much with them, instead being stationed at posts in and around the forest. He’d often wanted to go and travel for himself, but had never found the time. The Sylvari sat on a table in the Warden barracks, relaxing after a particularly arduous mission that had sent them deep into the heart of Nightmare Courtier Territory. There they’d taken out a particularly nasty courtier who done her fair share of torturing of innocent brothers and sister for her own twisted cause. Sylvana sat across from Argyle, talking to him cheerfully, each exchanging words with some enthusiasm. Next to Sylvana sat a white Sylvari that Argyle often saw hanging around Sylvana. He had gotten the impression that the two of them were quite close and had travelled together for many years. The white Sylvari let Sylvana do the talking however, seeming to find joy in the way she told the stories. Argyle asked the most silly questions imaginable, seeming to be quite naïve to Sylvana, despite the trials they’d already faced. His ignorance was a little endearing however, and the two had gotten quite close in the time they’d been assigned to the same squad. “So,” Argyle asked, his tone light and cheerful. “Are Norn really as big as they say they are?” His eyes gleamed at the idea of the Norn’s size. He could not fully comprehend what he had been told, believing that those he had asked before had been teasing him. “Bigger!” Sylvana exclaimed, jumping up onto the table and standing on her tip toes to properly demonstrate the height. “Bigger than this even!” She giggled, clambering down quickly after she’d shown his and glancing around to make sure no one had seen her. “Wow!” Argyle gasped, his mouth hanging open. “That’s amazing!” He started to laugh in disbelief, the sound rich and full of mirth. When Argyle laughed, it was as if there were no troubles in the world, the sound like music or bird call. Sylvana was just reaching the climax of her story, building the tension slowly. Argyle was on the edge of his seat, his eyes wide with anticipation. That’s when the door to the barracks opened and their commanding officer strolled in, his head held high and his face stern. Argyle deflated, realising he wasn’t going to find out the end of the story until the Warden Commander was done. The commander was followed by another Sylvari who had gold coloured bark and blue petals. She was tall, her limbs long and her face angular. Her smile was dazzling, filled with a confidence that startled Argyle. Her eyes were clear blue pools that reflected the beauty of the world. In short, she was the most beautiful Sylvari Argyle had ever seen. Turning a deep shade of red, Argyle lined up before the commander and this new Sylvari, standing beside Sylvana and trying not to seem as awkward as he felt. He couldn’t help it though, his yes drawn to the new Sylvari as they were. If he had a heart, like the humans do, he thought it’d be beating loud enough for the whole room to hear. “This is Naewydd,” the Warden Commander began and Argyle’s breath caught in his throat. Even her name was beautiful. “She has recently became a vigilant,” the Commander continued, ignoring Argyle’s blooming aura. “We’ll be escorting her to Ascalon where we shall assist her in defending a small outpost north of Ebonhawk.” The Warden Commander paced up and down the line of Sylvari as he addressed them, sharp eyes resting upon ever one as he walked past them. Argyle did his best to hide his Aura, and for the most part he succeeded. He kept his face straight and resisted the urge to squirm when his own eyes fell upon Naewydd. “We move out as soon as possible,” The commander explained. “I advise everyone to say their goodbyes and start packing.” Stopping at the end of the line-up, the commander looked at each one on them once more before barking, “Dismissed!” The Sylvari gave a salute, tapping their heels together and hitting their fists to their chests before dispersing. The next few hours were a hustle and bustle of activity as the Wardens hurried about, gathering their things and packing them into bags. Heartfelt goodbyes were said and tears were shed, but it all seemed quite rushed to Argyle. He’d have rather had a bit more time to get ready. He didn’t complain however, on the contrary, he was excited. This would be his first time so far from home and despite the limited time, he was looking forward to it. What he was most excited about however, was not the chance to explore the world and see things that he’d never seen before. He was most excited about getting to spend time with Naewydd. The thought made him giddy and he had trouble hiding his smile that night when the Wardens gathered to move out. Argyle made sure he got close to Naewydd before they began their march, trying not to be too obvious about it. As the procession of Wardens set out, it was an hour or so before Argyle got up the nerve to extend a hand and give Naewydd his most friendly smile. “Argyle,” he said by way of introduction, “Of the cycle of dusk.” Naewydd shook his hand, giving him a smile of her own that made the sap rush to his cheeks, painting him crimson. “Naewydd of the cycle of noon, it is very nice to meet you brother.” “Like wise!” Argyle beamed, slowly easing himself into the conversation, becoming more relaxed. “I’ve never been outside of Caledon,” he mused. “I’m very much looking forward to what we shall see.” “Oh as am I!” Naewydd proclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. “But all those sights will be nothing compared to our destination. That is what I am most looking forward to.” She said with a nod. Argyle laughed at that, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. “You’re awfully eager I must say. This wyld hunt of yours must be very interesting.” He tilted his head to one side in a bird like manner as he watched Naewydd, his eyes sparkling with interest. Naewydd stuck her bottom lip out in thought, folding her arms and stroking her chin with a finger. “I’m not sure it’s all that interesting to be honest with you. All I know is I’m to go to this outpost and protect it. From who or from what I can’t say. For all I know it may be an invasion of dust bunnies.” She giggled at the idea. Argyle laughed along, garnering as few odd looks from his fellow Wardens. Their journey was mostly uneventful. Sometimes they would encounter the odd band of bandits blocking the road, but the villains were no match for the trained Warden unit. Argyle marvelled at the new sights and sounds, his eyes widening in fascination and a gasp of awe escaping his mouth every now and again. He tried to keep as close to Naewydd as possible, something that did not escape the attention of the other Wardens. They often made good humoured jokes at his expense when Naewydd was not in ear shot, and Sylvana would often give him a nudge in the ribs, followed by a mischievous grin. But though Argyle’s feelings towards Naewydd did not go unnoticed, neither did her feeling regarding him. Over the course of the journey, as Argyle became more and more drawn to Naewydd, it became obvious that she did not feel the same. While she never kept Argyle at a distance, and did enjoy his company, she did not consider the doe eyed Sylvari as anything more than a good friend. Argyle knew this, and perhaps Naewydd knew how he felt about her. It was one of the disadvantages about being attuned to each other’s auras. In this was the subjects of Argyle’s feelings were never brought up. He kept quiet about how he felt and Naewydd never commented on it. In that way they carried on, dodging the looks they received from the others. One night, when the unit had set up camp, Argyle turned to Naewydd, voicing a question that’d long been on his mind. “Your Wyld hunt, what does it feel like?” His worry was tangible, something more than this simple question was tugging at his consciousness, though he was being delicate about it. Naewydd tilted her head to one side as she considered the question, running her tongue over her lips, a motion that Argyle found mesmerising, forcing himself to look at his feet so his blush would not become obvious. “It’s like a pulling sensation in the back of your mind,” she explained, finding it hard to put into words. “While you can try and ignore it, it’s always there, dragging you off to where you’re supposed to go.” Argyle nodded, staring into the small fire that the wardens had set up, putting their tents around it. He was quiet for a long while, the light of the fire reflected in his violet eyes. “You know,” he said after some time. “I hear that once a Sylvari completes their Wyld hunt, they return to the Mother tree.” Naewydd frowned, shaking her head slightly, her blue leaves rustling gently. “I had not heard that, no.” She too then looked into the fire, deep in thought, wondering if what Argyle had said could possibly be true. Eventually, in a small, frightened voice Argyle said, “Don’t do it.” Naewydd snapped her head to him, looking at him in disbelief. “Don’t complete it. Stay here with me, where you’re safe.” Naewydd looked at Argyle with a cold, calm stare. “Don’t ask that of me again Argyle, you know I can’t do that.” Argyle fell silent, getting to his feet and turning away, going to his tent. Lifting the flap, he crouched down to enter, mumbling just loud enough for Naewydd to hear, “I know.” In the next few days they made their way into Ascalon, finally reaching the outpost, only to hear they sound of gunfire and explosions. The Wardens sprang into action, getting into formation and advancing on the outpost. The sight that met them was one of carnage. Half of the fortified Charr buildings had been reduced to rubble, metal and stone flung to the side like leaves in the breeze. Creatures of dark crystal assaulted the walls, slashing and biting with claws and teeth, their craggy forms glistening eerily in the light. Their voices were full of hate and rage, driven on by their ungodly master. The wardens ran into the fray, blades cutting through the hordes of Branded like a hot knife through butter. The Branded fell before them in droves, their numbers unending, but the wardens persevered. Argyle, Naewydd and Sylvana stuck together, defending each other as they fought. Argyle cut down a hulking Branded Charr, his blade pricing the creature’s throat, purple blood oozing from the wound, solidifying as it makes contact with the air. Naewydd fired balls of blue flame from her staff; the orbs sinking into a Branded human’s flesh and setting it alight. The creature screamed as the guardian fire consumed it, spreading over the creature from head to toe. Sylvana’s great sword hacked great chunks of Branded away, limbs and other parts falling to the wayside, landing in a heap at her feet. They fell like dominoes before her, not rising again. She was soon covered in a dark ichor that glowed ever so slightly. The Branded numbers started to thin, some even retreated to regroup, clustering in a small pocket just outside of the outpost. The combined forces of the Charr and Wardens pursued, cutting the remaining forces down until none remained. A cheer of victory ran out among the troops, Charr and Warden alike patting each other on the back and giving congratulations. But the celebrations stopped instantly as a cry rang out through the battlefield. “The dragon! The dragon is coming!” The air rumbled with the signs of the dragon’s coming. All eyes turned to the sky as dark clouds began to form, bolts of purple lightning darting across the heavens, scarring the plains below. Naewydd turned to her companions, a sad smile on her face, her eyes full of devout resolve. “Go,” she said simply, nodding her head, hand gripping her staff, her knuckles turning white. “Go while you still can. You’ve no place here.” “What are you talking about,” Argyle said, his voice wavering. “You have to come with us, there’s no way you can survive this.” “I know,” was all she said, turning away from the group of warden’s and survivors, standing at the entrance to the outpost, resolute in her cause. The wardens gathered up the remaining survivors, forming a ring around them so as to escort them to safety. Sylvana ran up to Naewydd, wrapping her arms around her to hold her in a warm embrace before pulling away and going to join the others, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. In an orderly fashion, the Wardens began to file out of the outpost, looking around for any Branded that might try to intercept them. Argyle looked on in horror as they left Naewydd to face such an unimaginable threat alone. He looked on as the Sylvari woman stood vigilant over her charge, steadfast and ready to give her life. The outpost had already started to fade into the distance before Argyle made up his mind. Clenching his teeth together and screwing his eyes up tight, he detached himself from the group, running at full pelt back to the outpost. He heard Sylvana call after him, but ignored her, making his way back to Naewydd as fast as he could. He found her exactly where he left her, looking out at the oncoming horde of Branded. He stood beside her, stone faced and unwavering, his sword clutched tightly in his hand. Naewydd turned in surprise as he walked up to her, and now that he was here, he could see the fear in her eyes. But upon seeing him she smiled, making his pulse race. “You shouldn’t be her Argyle,” she said quietly, already knowing his response. “I’m not going to leave you out her alone,” he replied, his voice shaking ever so slightly. She nodded, giving him a small chuckle before looking back to the enemy. “Thank you.” The Branded attacked, laying siege to the outpost with no mercy, their eyes glowing with malice. Argyle and Naewydd held them off as best they could, but it was two against an unrelenting tide of depravity. Argyle became locked in combat with a colossal Branded ogre, its massive claws capable of ripping the largest of rocks to shreds. He fought as hard as he could, dodging many attacks that would have torn him asunder if he had taken the hit. But his luck could not last. Exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks and he took a hit, the Branded’s claws hitting him right in the face. There was a searing pain and he felt like his whole head had been cleaved in two. He fell back, red sap running down his face in waves. The Branded towered over him, laughing darkly, but before the final blow was struck, he burst into flames, screaming loudly and tumbling to the floor. Naewydd was next to him in an instant, panic clear on her face. She tried to keep the Branded away from him, but they just kept coming. Argyle saw Naewydd standing over him, doing her best to protect him from the seemingly endless throng. Then everything went still. It was if the whole world had gone into slow motion, along with sound being turned to mute. There was a break in the clouds and an immense being descended from above, wings flapping menacingly. It looked down on the two of them like someone looking through a microscope at an insignificant bug. It took a deep breath in, fire dancing at the corners of its mouth. Naewydd acted without a second thought, dragging Argyle to his feet and throwing him under a pile of rubble. He tumbled to the floor, sheltered by the ruin around him, but his view of Naewydd completely obstructed. “Naewydd!” he screamed, but it was too late. There was a roar of fire, as if the gates of hell itself had been opened. Argyle heard a scream, felt the heat of the fire and the dizziness from loss of blood. Try as he might, he was unable to stay conscious. His vision blurred, and he saw no more. He wasn’t sure how long he remained unconscious, but when he awoke, crawling out from his hiding place, there was only desolation around him. What little left of the outpost was rubble, and even then it had been scorch and turned to crystal. Bodies littered the ground, but they’d been so badly burnt he couldn’t tell Branded from people. But there, curled up into a ball not far from him, was a little body, black and hardly recognisable. Argyle took a few steps towards it, falling to his knees. In his delirium he became sure of it, beyond a measure of a doubt. This had been Naewydd. He felt the tears mixing with his blood, trickling down his disfigured face and falling to the ground. He screamed until his throat closed up and he could scream no more. He didn’t know when it was he started walking, nor if he ever stopped to eat or sleep. All he knew is that at some point he had started. The only way he figured out he had started is he eventually started to feel the aura of other Sylvari. Looking up in surprise, he found that he’d managed to make his way all the way back to Caledon Forest. The Sylvari around him, they felt happy. Argyle could hardly comprehend it. How could they be so happy when his whole world had been torn apart in seconds? They shouldn’t be happy! Not with her gone! The world and everyone in it should be grieving as much as he was! But they weren’t and they never would. It was then he first started to feel the tendrils of nightmare tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He would be able to make other grieve as much as he was grieving if he fell. It would be so easy to just let himself go and fall into the blackness. But he couldn’t, but nor could he go back to the dream and all his happy siblings. He couldn’t stand it. So he cut himself off from the world instead, going to the Weeping Isle where he found the quiet he needed. There he lived in solitude, denying the outside world and all of its happiness. ------------------ Argyle came back to reality when he felt the pain in his hands. Looking down, he found that he’d rubbed his hands raw with all the washing of them he was doing. With a sigh he drained the water from the sink and walked back to bed, sitting down on the covers and crossing his legs, closing his eyes. He started to go through his meditations, blocking the dream out of his consciousness, as well as all of his emotions. He stayed like that until dawn’s first rays of light twinkled over the horizon, telling of a new day to come. Another day without her.
Posted on: Sat, 28 Jun 2014 22:19:32 +0000
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