Black stains

For the gaming thing competition. Might edit names and stuff later to turn it into something else. But right now, I literally have no idea what is gonna happen. It just... Started.


1. Introduction

She gave me a wry grin, balancing one of the purple spheres on one long finger. I knelt, before her. Amusement sparked in her eyes. I was strange in that way, I could see inside people. Her eyes? You can't make anything out, save the glowing purple. Her headpiece, magnificent as it was, held a shimmering amethyst in its center. I could sense the power held within her. Within such a frail frame. I could almost reach out, and snap her delicate body in two.

The Dark Sovereign regarded me curiously. Two of her dark spheres circled her, occasionally swaying toward me. Her legs were crossed, skirt tails trailing along the floor. The ground gently shifted, swaying occasionally as Syndra became distracted. My head was down, right hand splayed before me, left curled up to my chest. My heart pounded beneath the protruding ribs. The heavy trench coat cushioned most of them, but there was no mistaking the blood splattered around my neck. Syndra's white hair almost floated beside her. Finally, she spoke.

“Ariss...” Her voice echoed throughout the room, the r and s dragging out as she said my name. I looked up, hair falling back toward my shoulders, eye flashing angrily for a few moments. When I spoke, my voice was deep. It sounded like waves crashing amongst each other, in the midst of a storm. The third sphere rose to join the other two.

“Correct, that is my name.” It was almost a guessing game. But Syndra new better than to play games with me. She knew better than to even try to kill me. My face stayed passive, unmoving, as she smiled down at me from her throne.

She chuckled softly. “What do you wish for me to do?” Her voice was gentle, almost caring. Almost.

I rose from the ground, heavy boots clunking softly. A tattered scrap of cloth was tied around my head, in some fruitless attempt to hide what was beneath. More of, what wasn't beneath. The black coat was heavy on my shoulders, but then, I'd lost feeling in them years ago. It didn't bother me any more. It was draped on them, the old leather cracked and worn. My lank hair falling in tendrils to my shoulders. It used to be a lighter brown. Now it was just black, streaks of white running through it. I seem to follow the same colour palette. Whites, blacks, and all of the colours between. I was merely grey. Syndra, though. She was a deep purple, the colour mostly associated with mystery. What she wore wasn't particularly... revealing, but it would send many a young man around in circles. I was unfazed, simply watching her coldly. “Now, what would I want from you? A young... child, with such undeserved power...” Her smile faded, to be replaced with one of the famous death-stares all women seemed to posses. I'd never understand that. How come they all got the cool stares? I shook my head sadly, the first smile in a hundred years spreading over my face. “All I ask, is for an answer. If you find out what it is? Maybe I won't give you so much pain. Maybe I'll even spare you the pain...” I cracked my knuckles, the old bones making terrible clicking noises as the bones clattered together. Syndra raised an eyebrow sceptically, gazing at me critically, her pretty face crossing the border of being annoyed and furious. I bet she wasn't used to being threatened.

“And what, per se, could you do, to me?” She said, her voice calm, echoing all the more. I wonder whether the echoing comes as a defense method. Maybe she thinks it scares people. It doesn't scare me, that's for sure. I've lost those feelings. I lost them long, long ago.

I smile again. “The question is, what could you do to me?” I open my coat, revealing the broken ribs inside, the dried blood around the wound. It's old, but has never healed. It almost goes right through me. Some of my ribs are bent, some are in place. My heart is protected, but the area around my right lung is left vulnerable. Is it me, or did I hear a small gasp of surprise from my observer. I offer her another grin. Even after all of these years, the surprise that people have is gratifying. It's also funny, in a weird way. Many people are scared of what I am. The problem is, they just disregard me. I look normal, with my coat and general appearance. Not like some of those other... guys, such as Karthus. I mean, sure, some of us look slightly odder, but that's to be expected. But to go that far? To almost take off your own skin, when it stays, unhealing, as it was when you died. Anyone could see how I died, if I undo the clasps to my trench coat. You can see, the way my chest is ripped open, my ribs bent both ways- inwards and outwards. You can tell by the dark stains dried onto my coat, the deep shades of my blood. It's quite fascinating, really.

Syndra just glares at my coldly, making up her mind about something, before looking back up at me, scowling. "What exactly do you want?" She snarled. She knew she couldn't keep me out. I find ways of getting into places, it's one of my many talents. Doesn't matter how high the walls are, how high you are off the ground, how many guns are fired it doesn't matter. Even sentries can't see me half the time. She knew all of this.

Sometimes, people ask me why I don't walk up to the League of Legends and ask them to take me in. I don't belong, you see. I've wandered for centuries searching from somewhere to fit in. After I died, of course. I couldn't return to my wife, she'd just... freak out, I suppose. My town would chase me away, anyway. They don't stand for the undead. I know I should never have gone there. I shouldn't have gone off, on my own, to kill the beast. In fact, quite the opposite had happened. It had killed me, tearing my own insides away from me. Before I had stood up, and stabbed it with the sword handily laying beside my dead body. It was a strange sensation, running around with a still beating heart, but without half of your digestive system. I don't breathe, though. It would be nice to, but it simply isn't possible with lungs in the state mine are. Tattered strands of flesh dangle from the ruined skin.

But where I belong? The undead belong no where. The basic fact of life. Or more of, unlife. You don't fit anywhere.

As a reply to her question, I looked up once more. “I want answers. Why did I come back, why then? Why did I not just die, like most people do when fighting a monster?” My voice was gruff, growling and dry. Syndra's face softened for a moment, before returning to her scowl. It just made her look prettier- probably not the reaction she quite wanted.

“Surely you would know that me, the Dark Sovereign, would not know quite what you want? Surely Thresh is more suiting to your needs? He does collect human souls, after all...” She trailed off, not really needing to continue.

The truth was, I couldn't find Thresh, and was not particularly in the mood of finding him. Being dead, meant that my soul was less protected than others. For whatever reason, it hadn't left my broken body when it died. Instead, my still living soul hung around, giving my brain a reason to continue. Along with all of the other organs that could function. This secluded my digestive system, and generally most other organs. My soul was bare, easy for the chain warden to collect. Funnily enough, I didn't want that to happen. It was what kept me in my undeath, still able to roam the world. Why exactly, I'm not sure, but part of me doesn't want to leave. I feel as if I have something else that I need to do, before I can move on.

Of course, I couldn't admit to Syndra, one who looks down on all those who sense fear, that I was scared of what Thresh would do. Instead, I told the indirect truth. Not entirely lying, not entirely telling the truth. “I thought that one like you, may know more. After all, you do pride yourself saying you know more than the average living being. I suppose Thresh counts as one of these?”

Syndra grinned at me, her eyes twinkling knowingly. “Why, little Ariss, you do not need to be afraid of him... he makes the most excellent lane partner, and has saved my life countless times. And with him, his story is similar to yours. Maybe you two could talk about it over a cup of tea?” I didn't satisfy her with a scowl, or even a change in face. I merely watched calmly, examining her closely. This girl needed more clothes, I decided, before looking into those purple eyes with mild hatred.

“But I asked you. Not him. You should know that I don't like to break my promises. After all, I came back, did I not? I them I would, and I did. With the monster lying dead at my feet, I returned to them, to show them what I had done.” I pause, more for a thought than anything else, “It's other people that I do not trust to keep their word. They did not welcome me, they did not thank me. Oh, no, they just... tried to burn me.” I show her the blackened skin on my forearm. That train of thought hadn't worked very well. Strangely, wet flesh doesn't burn easily, and my skin had been drenched in my own blood, rendering it sticky and soaked.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...