Chaos is God in a system of true disorder. And I seek to my title of God, I have no care for whoever crumples to nothing in my persuit to achieve such.
Rumours prodded the solar system of how he had a dragon's voice of velvet and cotton, his words were said to have melted your membranes with a mere second's graze. The mage was a rare ornament of existence's magnificence.-Palace of Ulric labyrinths, Elvira Crest.
࿐SÉRAPH࿐ |Alec- March 10, 7426|
THE BREEZE became cement as she ascended across the short-bricked roofs of the hamlet. The soles of her feet slipped with the fever, her every breath deeper and much heavier to contain the further she hurried.
Range.
The untrained hope of distance was all that matters to Séraph right now. The sun spooned lower as her pace became stagnant, smearing the nauseous skyline with a residue of its bronze colours. Wind barreled against her face, sticking onto the sweat that developed on her torn skin. The wind was not so refreshing, only an arid and oppressive gust that the barrens inflated for a wanted bounty.
Scarlet was just behind her, tailing the thumps and hisses her legs sent out with every precarious leap she made between tops. Séraph could tell it was him by the false fragility of his silhouette and the way his figure trimmed across the roof's slabs like a white dove playing with gravity-a killer's haste, Franklin had called it. Séraph now realized why he refers to it as such; it was terrifying being chased by Scarlet Narcissus.
Unlike herself, Scarlet was much more careful with his steps, he calculated every connection his boots made with the tiles, all squeaks and groans bypassing his subtle weight of stealth.
Séraph, on the other hand, was much faster and not as enumerated as her sensible partner. She only cared about getting out of this jumble as fast as she can. A bandit's instinct of flight, some would say. An insatiable grin indulged her reddened face as a mass of heads registered to her. The market. She made it on time.
Or so she thought.
The soft beats of Scarlet's shoes expired as an audible sizzle reinstated against the roof panes. Séraph hardly had any stamina to react to Scarlet's skidding figure before the underside of his shoes knocked into the back of Séraph's knees with enough force to send her stumbling forward and into his raised knee. Seraph didn't know what was more insulting, getting barraged by Scarlet or watching the sadistic smirk that encased his face as she fell to his surprise.
Unfortunately for Scarlet, Séraph wielded just as many volitional surprises.
Her hands caught the end of his curled leg, yanking it up to access his last balancing leg that stood upright like a flamingo's. Séraph twisted his leg in her hand, shifting her feet in the bustle of a swing as she quickly swept under his stationed foot. Scarlet's grin revised into an alarmed expression as his back collided with the ground before it curled back into his usual scowl of so-called torpor. Got him.
