KOA
The impact is sudden and hard, sending an explosion of shock and pain through the Dragoon's nervous system. Stars explode in Koa's vision, a dizzying swirl of galactic colors that brings bile rising in his throat. He swallows it, defies it, searching desperately for the center, the only source of steadiness as the world spins. Keep one thing in focus, his teachers had coached him. One small point. Hone in on it. Ignore everything else.
His center is blue as a summer sky, as bright and clear as shallow seas. He stares at it with unfocused eyes, hones in on it, memorizes it. Tells himself he must hold steady, must not evaporate into the abyss.
Tells himself that nothing else matters, as long as he can stay in her eyes.
The dizziness passes in the span of a blink, replaced by adrenaline's surge. It's an unsustainable respite, but for now it's what will do. Later pain will set in again, and Koa will realize that the damp warmth at the back of his head isn't simply sweat. For right now, though, all he knows are those wide blue eyes and the way his name rings in his ears, and the fact that there's still a man behind him, threatening the woman in his arms.
And then he's angry, because by Frey's balls, How fucking dare.
He's not really aware of pulling out of Flora's grip. He doesn't have a plan. One minute his world is blue, the next it's black and a haze of red, and his right fist is connecting with a slack jaw, and the man is dropping and Koa is floating, hovering over the now cowering hooligan with a wrathful expression as he considers grinding his face to a pulp. Tension locks the muscles in his arms, the clench of his jaw and the grip of his fists. This is not Koa the Dragoon of Stormbreak; this is Koa the underground champion, a fighter with a penchant for winning and the deafening ringing of violence in his ears.
His center is blue as a summer sky, as bright and clear as shallow seas. He stares at it with unfocused eyes, hones in on it, memorizes it. Tells himself he must hold steady, must not evaporate into the abyss.
Tells himself that nothing else matters, as long as he can stay in her eyes.
The dizziness passes in the span of a blink, replaced by adrenaline's surge. It's an unsustainable respite, but for now it's what will do. Later pain will set in again, and Koa will realize that the damp warmth at the back of his head isn't simply sweat. For right now, though, all he knows are those wide blue eyes and the way his name rings in his ears, and the fact that there's still a man behind him, threatening the woman in his arms.
And then he's angry, because by Frey's balls, How fucking dare.
He's not really aware of pulling out of Flora's grip. He doesn't have a plan. One minute his world is blue, the next it's black and a haze of red, and his right fist is connecting with a slack jaw, and the man is dropping and Koa is floating, hovering over the now cowering hooligan with a wrathful expression as he considers grinding his face to a pulp. Tension locks the muscles in his arms, the clench of his jaw and the grip of his fists. This is not Koa the Dragoon of Stormbreak; this is Koa the underground champion, a fighter with a penchant for winning and the deafening ringing of violence in his ears.
With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame
