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＊☆♦︎*★※*☆※＊♦︎♢☆＊☆※♦︎＊*
He wasn’t sure where he was. An otherworldly light spun around him, a pale red color. The ground beneath shifted, ceaselessly moving, though it felt firm beneath his feet. He wondered where he was.
Behind him was a nearly opaque, solid wall of the strange substance. He put his hand against it, it felt like nothing, though he found he couldn’t push past it. His east and west were similar, though the blockades were just far enough not to feel claustrophobic.
He turned, half of an entire circle, and saw a tunnel expanding before him, a one way path. Before he could think through his situation, he strode forwards.
The misty walls around him swirled, slowly fading from its initial color to a blue that reminded him of the sea, the haze moving in such a way that it looked like blood diffusing into water, like scarlet droplets that had hit the surface and exploded outwards, expanding in a pink fog before it all faded, too dispersed to make out anymore against the waves of blue.
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He opened his eyes, expecting to see the familiar battlegrounds that had long since stolen the safety of dreams from him. Instead he found himself staring at a blue expanse, and briefly wondered if he was drowning.
He wouldn’t mind, of course.
But he was still breathing, he could hear his own breaths echoing in the silent area around him, so of course he wasn’t drowning.
Was he dreaming?
He was certain he wasn’t a lucid dreamer.
Where was he then?
All around him barriers pressed in close, making him uneasy. He could handle a field of blood and corpses, though he’d rather not. He wasn’t sure if he could handle utter silence, save himself.
There was only one way he could go, forwards.
So he walked.
The royal blue enclosure wavered as he went on. The blue began to fade to a lighter shade, and it twisted like smoke.
He tried to gaze past it, hoping to spot something familiar, but only saw an inky black void. He continued to walk.
The smoke thinned more the further he went, until he almost feared being swallowed by the void. But somehow, despite the absence of a ground that appeared stable, he was able to not fall.
＊☆♦︎*★※*☆※＊♦︎♢☆＊☆※♦︎＊*
Across the far stretch the darkened expanse was another man, dressed in blue, the color of his hair fading.
With nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do, he approached the man, who strided towards him.
He observed the look in his eyes, a look he knew all too well. An eternal exhaustion. That, but also guilt, a guilt that seemed like it consumed this man whole, a subtle sag of his shoulders that wasn't meant to be noticed.
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He stepped forward. Several long strides away stood a man. He looked beaten and battered, as though he had weathered a particularly harsh storm.
The tired look in his eyes suggested perhaps he had, though this storm was no hurricane or hail, but rather a mental tempest of thoughts and regrets.
＊☆♦︎*★※*☆※＊♦︎♢☆＊☆※♦︎＊*
The man across had his eyes set on him, his paces filled with certainty, though those tired, weary eyes suggested he had lost something dear to him.
Not a person, rather a purpose.
His eyes uncertain, though his strides sure.
His hands not shaking as his own do.
The other man keeps walking, so he too continues on.
They both stop, together, in unison, once they find themselves only a few steps away from one another.
He stands, not knowing what to say.
Not knowing if he should speak.
Not knowing if he even wishes to.
—-|============><============|—-
There he stands. Perpendicular to the other man.
＊☆♦︎*★※*☆※＊♦︎♢☆＊☆※♦︎＊*
He locks eyes with the other man.
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“Greetings.”
The first word spoken in this strange place. The word rings out, almost as if they stand in a round chamber, though no more walls close in around them, no more mist twists against their sides.
The other man across grunts and offers a curt nod. It’s not much.
But it is acknowledgment.
The silence stretches once more. He realizes how similar they look, though the other man wears a long, tattered coat and has long hair in unkempt tangles while he himself wears a uniform of blue, his own hair is short with bold streaks of silver, he recognizes that look in his eyes, the way he holds himself, the breaths that are forced slow and measured.
Almost as if this man was himself in another world. Almost.
The other man’s gaze flits over his body, assessing him.
“You look as though you came from battle,” the other man observes, and he does not deny it.
“I’m afraid that’s not far from the truth,” he responds.
The other man pauses, a moment of slight hesitation.
“What do you fight for?”
This time it’s his turn to freeze, searching for a response, determining if he should respond.
“Retribution, and for those who need someone to fight for them,” he answers.
The other man nods, understatement in his eyes at the word retribution. He thinks back to his initial purpose, this man seems to understand that well. Maybe he too had something taken from him, maybe he too had found himself in uncertainty.
“I respect the desire for revenge,” The other man starts, and he wants to correct him. Though he cant correct him, can he, after all wasn’t that his original drive? “A…aquintance of mine had taken something dear to me.”
The sorrowful gaze, the slight shift of the other man in discomfort, and the twitch of his hands suggested it was far more than something dear to him, it was something he revered and cared for deeply.
There was nothing good to say, so he said the only thing he thought he could say.
“My condolences.”
The other man nods once.
The silence falls again.
Then, the other man steps closer, offering a hand, his dejected eyes holding a flicker of understatement.
“My name is Osvald.”
He takes the hand to shake in greeting.
“Olberic.”