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beaslaysTitle: He Never Came
Verse/Characters: Etreverse Generation I / Yannesse, Tauzneal
Table: A - General
Prompt: 34. Not Enough
Word Count: 618
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Yannesse confronts himself - and the dead - on a battlefield.
Warnings: Some violence, though not very graphic.
Author's Notes: Another one about Yannesse? Yes, yes, he's a main character and all, but he's not the only one. I swear I'll get to writing more about the others one of these days. Anyway, once again, we hear about Tauzneal, but still no sign of this dead man.
***
He cut through yet another of the enemy soldiers, then another, maybe even five at a time. He didn't know how many he had killed that day, how many futures he had ended - he had lost count after the second battalion of enemies.
Yannesse found that he didn't care.
There was a certain thrill to the killing, oh yes, but even that was countered by the pain that consumed him moments after each kill. His very being cried out against each drop of blood he spilled, his soul begging him to cease. Yannesse knew this was the part of him connected to the world, yet, he had no choice but to press on, and to strike as ruthlessly as he could.
He had no time to waste on the dead, much less on dead enemies, so he pushed on, intent on breaking the enemy line completely.
"Yannesse! You have to end this!"
He finished with cutting off some hapless soldier's head before daring to look over to the side. Even as he side-stepped and cut into another attacker, red eyes were scanning the battlefield for the man who called him.
It was to no avail and he realized - he was suddenly alone on the battlefield, surrounded by soldiers ready to kill him, were it not for his reputation keeping their swords at bay.
"This battle is foolish."
He was going mad, of that he was certain of, for there was nobody here to speak to him. Yet, there was that voice, as clear as day and far too familiar in tone -
He twirled, opening a long and ugly gash on a soldier who had dared approach him. Pain spread through his arm, though he ignored it and began a furious onslaught on the remaining soldiers.
"...that's enough..."
When Yannesse next looked around, he was truly alone, and surrounded by the graying corpses of an entire enemy squadron. He stood there, swords in tight grips, soaked in his own sweat, and caked with the blood of broken futures.
The voice faded to a whisper then, almost like the wind as it brushed past his ear.
His swords slipped from his grip when he realized whom the voice belonged to.
"Tauz," whispered Yannesse, red eyes widening. A part of him feared the very name - it was, after all, the name of the man he had not been able to save. He looked up at the dark gray sky, and, in that moment, wished he had cared. Wished he had done more to stop himself. Wished he had listened to Tauzneal all those months ago, when the other was still capable of teaching him more.
Tauzneal was long gone. Yannesse had not done enough to save him.
Lightning illuminated the sky, but Yannesse found no beauty in it. Instead, he found the rain much more appealing, just this once, for the deluge that came washed him of both blood and sweat. Though the soil beneath his feet had been soaked with red, the rain begun the long process of cleansing it.
The planet took care of both herself and her people. The faint, unintelligeble whispering in Yannesse's ear reminded him of the connection between all things of the world. Between his flesh and the soil. Between the blood that coursed through him and the rain. Between his own being and the beings of the ones he had killed.
Tauzneal had come to remind him of this. Even in death, he was there at Yannesse's side, whispering lessons and words of wisdom Yannesse could never hope to fully comprehend.
The rain continued to fall as he stood there, and the deluge masked the tears rolling down his cheeks.
End.
//
Verse/Characters: Etreverse Generation I / Yannesse, Tauzneal
Table: A - General
Prompt: 34. Not Enough
Word Count: 618
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Yannesse confronts himself - and the dead - on a battlefield.
Warnings: Some violence, though not very graphic.
Author's Notes: Another one about Yannesse? Yes, yes, he's a main character and all, but he's not the only one. I swear I'll get to writing more about the others one of these days. Anyway, once again, we hear about Tauzneal, but still no sign of this dead man.
He cut through yet another of the enemy soldiers, then another, maybe even five at a time. He didn't know how many he had killed that day, how many futures he had ended - he had lost count after the second battalion of enemies.
Yannesse found that he didn't care.
There was a certain thrill to the killing, oh yes, but even that was countered by the pain that consumed him moments after each kill. His very being cried out against each drop of blood he spilled, his soul begging him to cease. Yannesse knew this was the part of him connected to the world, yet, he had no choice but to press on, and to strike as ruthlessly as he could.
He had no time to waste on the dead, much less on dead enemies, so he pushed on, intent on breaking the enemy line completely.
"Yannesse! You have to end this!"
He finished with cutting off some hapless soldier's head before daring to look over to the side. Even as he side-stepped and cut into another attacker, red eyes were scanning the battlefield for the man who called him.
It was to no avail and he realized - he was suddenly alone on the battlefield, surrounded by soldiers ready to kill him, were it not for his reputation keeping their swords at bay.
"This battle is foolish."
He was going mad, of that he was certain of, for there was nobody here to speak to him. Yet, there was that voice, as clear as day and far too familiar in tone -
He twirled, opening a long and ugly gash on a soldier who had dared approach him. Pain spread through his arm, though he ignored it and began a furious onslaught on the remaining soldiers.
"...that's enough..."
When Yannesse next looked around, he was truly alone, and surrounded by the graying corpses of an entire enemy squadron. He stood there, swords in tight grips, soaked in his own sweat, and caked with the blood of broken futures.
The voice faded to a whisper then, almost like the wind as it brushed past his ear.
His swords slipped from his grip when he realized whom the voice belonged to.
"Tauz," whispered Yannesse, red eyes widening. A part of him feared the very name - it was, after all, the name of the man he had not been able to save. He looked up at the dark gray sky, and, in that moment, wished he had cared. Wished he had done more to stop himself. Wished he had listened to Tauzneal all those months ago, when the other was still capable of teaching him more.
Tauzneal was long gone. Yannesse had not done enough to save him.
Lightning illuminated the sky, but Yannesse found no beauty in it. Instead, he found the rain much more appealing, just this once, for the deluge that came washed him of both blood and sweat. Though the soil beneath his feet had been soaked with red, the rain begun the long process of cleansing it.
The planet took care of both herself and her people. The faint, unintelligeble whispering in Yannesse's ear reminded him of the connection between all things of the world. Between his flesh and the soil. Between the blood that coursed through him and the rain. Between his own being and the beings of the ones he had killed.
Tauzneal had come to remind him of this. Even in death, he was there at Yannesse's side, whispering lessons and words of wisdom Yannesse could never hope to fully comprehend.
The rain continued to fall as he stood there, and the deluge masked the tears rolling down his cheeks.
End.
//
