The Prince of Blood (boyxboy)

2.Life and Death

A loud bang went off just as Claude flicked away a bullet flying towards the person he was suppose to protect at all costs. His ears told him that someone was in the way of the blast and that with their skillset, they would most certainly die. He cussed under his breath as he turned around and shot out towards the idiot who stood in the way. The blast slowly dispersed around him sending a blue fiery vortex in all directions. The idiot of a person was Nimon, Claude recognised him. He had kicked up quite the fuss some time prior. Nimon was of the Holy Fire Tribe, or as Claude calls them, the all-bark-no-bite tribe (he calls all Holy Tribes that).

He leaped in front of Nimon and as he looked up, he saw a hand through the fire reaching towards where his heart would be, if he had a heart. In place of a heart, he had something called a life stone, which was what kept him "alive", if one could even call his condition alive. The explosion continued to rage on. Claude knew he would not survive. That hand was reaching for his life stone and when it succeeds, he will disintegrate into a million pieces of dust.

Claude closed his eyes calmly, he had seen this coming. In fact, he was expecting it. As his own movement speed slowed to a stop in front of Nimon, he shoved the young warrior of the Light out of the way and slammed him on to the ground, to safety. The explosion around him sped up to its actual speed. Correctly speaking, it would be that Claude's perspective of time aligned with that a normal person would see.

The explosion raged, blue flames swiftly followed by red flames and was then countered by the orange and yellow flames of Nimon's Holy Fire Tribe. The heat knocked out Claude as his system shut down. He assumed it was because his life stone had been ripped from inside of him.

Somewhere further back, he heard familiar voices scream in agony as they watched him fade. Dark Cloud, the poor child, Claude thought, he's had such a tragic upbringing, yet he was destined only for more tragedies.

*

Claude's red eyes flashed open as the last of his memories finished replaying in his mind. The first thing he saw was the white ceiling where the blinding white circular lights were embedded in. They hurt his eyes. Light had always hurt his eyes. His eyes darkened to black now that he's actually awake and in control.

He groaned as he got up off the ground, his bones creaked and cracked, they always did when he stayed in the same position for extended periods of time. He had indeed lost track of time, that was not unusual for him.

The door buzzed as a soldier in uniform carried a metal plate with some sludge-like thing which Claude could only assume was mashed potatoes, and some mushy looking green leaves on the side. The guard set it down on the floor some distance away, but in reach of Claude, only if he reached out for it. It was clearly a calculated position and Claude would guess that the soldier was taught to do that. The safest distance from the prisoner yet still able to pass food to them.

Claude stared at the food in disgust, he asked the soldier: "Would you eat that?"

The soldier grunted but did not reply. Claude assumed that the answer would be a "no".

He let the food sit, refusing to touch it. He guessed that time was ticking by but he did not bother to find out how much time had passed. His past was gone. He was dead. To them at least.

He was dead and faded.

Claude stood and stared at the white walls which reflected the light too well, he was thinking, something he did not do very often considering he often acted on impulses and reflexes. For now, he was thinking, contemplating.

He knew how his best friends would react. Dark Cloud, Zombie, Poison Beauty, Drunken Banshee, they would be very sad, but they all knew it was coming. He had heard Dark Cloud cry out as the hand reached inside of him. They were his friends, his ONLY siblings. They knew him best.