Post by Raphael Valiencia on Sept 22, 2011 23:05:55 GMT -5
Winter was the era of death and remorse in the times of the old God’s it marked the end of the carefree days of summer and spring, when times were pleasant and people could rest easily in their homes, not worrying over food or freezing to death. In the olden days, Winter was the time of trial, hard times pressed on by the Gods to ensure that humanity would not grow soft during their pleasant days. Those were the days when the harvest ripened the fruits of labor into the corps necessary for survival; days when men and women frolicked through the fields in merriment. It was in those days that the Vikings and other warrior tribes ended their warfare, rested and waited for the days to inflict war once more; Raphael recalled all of this as he stood in the stark white wastes of the Norwegian landscape in Winter. The vast planes of snow broken only by the blue of the ocean surrounding them; the rocky cliffs worn by time formed the edge where Raphael now found himself situated. Around him, there was an unnatural amount of beauty in the land and the contrast from the winter to summer months was an extraordinary change. Raphael could understand where the aspect of death arrived from as he glanced around the snow covered plain around him. Trees had shed their leaves and nothing remained of them but frozen twigs, glistening with the frost bite of Jotunheim as the Norse believed. Chuckling to himself, the segunda espada rubbed his shoulder lightly, the fur there damp from the influx of snow flurries now pouring in from the sky over his head; the white mist gathering in small clumps about his body.
Carefully shaking himself off, Raphael moved slowly, the steady drone of a Viking war drum rang through his head; this was a path he knew long ago, a path walked when battle raged between clans. Thor’s Path, it was once called as the God of War was said to have blessed anyone that died on this route with a direct path to Valhalla. Many, many noble men died in this region, many were turned into hollows to better serve the needs of the ‘God’s’ that existed and ruled over the Norse in those days. Raphael had been Baldur, the God of Light himself, named so because of his good looks and his peaceful nature. Even in those days, he detested war to every extent of the word and his battles were nothing more than pacification methods; pretending to kill the ‘Frost Giant’s’ whom were just shinigami attempting to do their jobs. They had never been much of a match for the arrancar who called themselves Gods and most battles ended with nothing more than a field of dead shinigami waiting to be gathered by others of their kind; though, when they weren’t Raphael would gather the corpses and give them burials at sea as was the Norse tradition. Glancing outwards towards the infinitely stretching horizon of the ocean; Raphael had to stop and admire the beauty of the scene sprawled out before him. A complete contradiction to the reason the path he walked on now had existed in the first place.
Spread out before Raphael’s eyes was a jutting gash into the plateau that he stood on now, scrapped upward as if a real giant’s blade had come soaring through the water then traveled immediately skyward. The scaring of the land crested and rose about, stretching out through the ice covered rock and cascading peddles of ice and stone crumbled across the lip and walls of the chasm. Every point creating a sparkling array of lights, which seemed to rise off of the water situated at the bottom. The fjord which Raphael found himself looking over had not existed in his previous visits to his homeland; from what he could see, some sort of avalanche or rock slide had occurred in the region, sending piles upon piles of rock scouring to the bottom of the ocean. Now, in that glistening expanse of land where the sea formed a natural looking river inland, but was stopped by the end of the ice, Raphael could picture himself standing proudly with his former family. Soon, though he noted that his initial analysis had been wrong. The narrow inlet was obviously carved from ice as the scraping across the side of the plateau was almost smoothed out; instead of the normal cracked and rough surface that formed when a rock slide occurred. Nearly slapping himself for his stupidity; Raphael looked down towards the other end of the fjord, noting a few boats that were moving about in the water before seeing the large village. It was quaint really, simple wooden buildings rising up in the old ways; the log and brick cabins bellowing light amounts of smoke from chimneys that barely obscured the skyline. The clumps of populated areas were rare in this land, so Raphael moved closer, keeping his reiatsu almost completely suppressed as he wandered closer; as he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself or killing any innocents that just happened to cross his path as he wandered closer. Looking about the area for a few moments, he casually tucked his broad hands into his pockets for warmth, nestling his mouth and nose down into the neck of his fur lined vest, the gold lining of which actually provided a good deal of warmth.
The pleasant crunch of snow causing an almost child-like amount of glee in the ancient being as the combat boots he wore, were only accustomed lately to pressing into the hot sands of Hueco Mundo. Wandering the snow, while similar to his homeland, was a welcomed change as the texture and feel was completely different than that of the sandy crevices that he was forced to move through in his new ‘home’. Taking a couple of precautionary steps and sensing out the area around the village, he wandered into it; noting a few men dressed in winter wear discussing some sort of convention nearby over piping hot bowls of fish stew. Moving up closer, both of them turned their heads toward him.
“Shit…spirit sensitive’s.” Raphael thought rapidly and braced himself to flee, but soon found himself being pushed closer by another man behind him. The being fazed immediate through him; shivering as he did so; which made Raphael smile lightly as he listened in about some computer science convention occurring only a few miles away. The men talked for a while, discussing the thoughts and ideas on the new computers coming out and passing around an information magazine which showed new models; after a few minutes, Raphael found himself intrigued, but without warning, the men’s wives came through the doors of the cozy homes. Calling the men in for dinner; which smelled delicious as it wafted in through the cedar cracks and out of the welcoming doors, as they left, Raphael felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness wash over him as the cold seeped into his body once more. Glancing down at the small pot of fish stew the men had left out, the espada reached down, plucking up his own bowl of the thick broth, slurping it down rapidly as it warmed his throat and stomach. In mortal words, it was delicious, the thick broth was full of potatoes, carrots and leeks; the north Atlantic Cod which was used for the broth coincided nicely with all of the flavors along with whatever spice they had used to season it. Shoveling in two piping hot bowls of the stew and chewing through the crunchy bits of potato and leek, Raphael eventually found himself gazing off in the direction of the computer convention.
Emerald eyes locked on their destination; he casually pressed on through the fleeting flurries of snow that cascaded down into his blonde locks. Every step bringing him closer to his destination; his body ignoring the freezing weather around him, after all, he was already dead, so what did it matter? He couldn’t die from exposure nor could the elements unless they were about as extreme as a volcanic eruption or he was left in them for unprecedentedly long periods of time. Not only that, but the ubiquitous nature of an Arrancar’s gargunta made traveling back to Las Noches as a simple solution to that problem in any case. Sighing, Raphael’s shoulder’s dropped down as he murmured the name of his beloved several times as the memories of her death haunted him to this day; still, a small smile came to his face as he recalled the finally moment he had seen her. The radiant beauty of the woman he had once loved; gleaming out over Asgard, her eyes looking at him with so much love and laughing at the pranks that Thor and Loki played on him. All of them were laughing and their eyes danced with glee at the prosperity that should have lasted forever, but it hadn’t. That flame of hatred for his once great comrade still burned; he recalled how Hilde couldn’t go on without him and had taken her own life in his absence. Now back in his homeland, those memories burned against his psyche, but he had nothing he could do and no claim to any sort of retribution against the people here. Long, long ago…he had avenged that particular insult, but it had not made him a happy man and misery still hung about him like a cloud at times. Maybe that is why he seeks so much to bring peace and prosperity to other Arrancar, as a way to atone for his own sins; still, none could say that Raphael wasn’t a man of his word and not one to fight unless absolutely needed.
As the final steps toward the compound where the convention was held ended, Raphael stopped his thoughts on the matter. His seraphic face glancing over the many visages of humanity who had gathered about him; the loud beeping of technological advance and the speech patterns of those heralding in the dawn of humanities next great innovations. It brought a smile to his face and for a moment, he forgot what had been robbed from him and simply slipped into the crowd; unaware of who else might be there.
Carefully shaking himself off, Raphael moved slowly, the steady drone of a Viking war drum rang through his head; this was a path he knew long ago, a path walked when battle raged between clans. Thor’s Path, it was once called as the God of War was said to have blessed anyone that died on this route with a direct path to Valhalla. Many, many noble men died in this region, many were turned into hollows to better serve the needs of the ‘God’s’ that existed and ruled over the Norse in those days. Raphael had been Baldur, the God of Light himself, named so because of his good looks and his peaceful nature. Even in those days, he detested war to every extent of the word and his battles were nothing more than pacification methods; pretending to kill the ‘Frost Giant’s’ whom were just shinigami attempting to do their jobs. They had never been much of a match for the arrancar who called themselves Gods and most battles ended with nothing more than a field of dead shinigami waiting to be gathered by others of their kind; though, when they weren’t Raphael would gather the corpses and give them burials at sea as was the Norse tradition. Glancing outwards towards the infinitely stretching horizon of the ocean; Raphael had to stop and admire the beauty of the scene sprawled out before him. A complete contradiction to the reason the path he walked on now had existed in the first place.
Spread out before Raphael’s eyes was a jutting gash into the plateau that he stood on now, scrapped upward as if a real giant’s blade had come soaring through the water then traveled immediately skyward. The scaring of the land crested and rose about, stretching out through the ice covered rock and cascading peddles of ice and stone crumbled across the lip and walls of the chasm. Every point creating a sparkling array of lights, which seemed to rise off of the water situated at the bottom. The fjord which Raphael found himself looking over had not existed in his previous visits to his homeland; from what he could see, some sort of avalanche or rock slide had occurred in the region, sending piles upon piles of rock scouring to the bottom of the ocean. Now, in that glistening expanse of land where the sea formed a natural looking river inland, but was stopped by the end of the ice, Raphael could picture himself standing proudly with his former family. Soon, though he noted that his initial analysis had been wrong. The narrow inlet was obviously carved from ice as the scraping across the side of the plateau was almost smoothed out; instead of the normal cracked and rough surface that formed when a rock slide occurred. Nearly slapping himself for his stupidity; Raphael looked down towards the other end of the fjord, noting a few boats that were moving about in the water before seeing the large village. It was quaint really, simple wooden buildings rising up in the old ways; the log and brick cabins bellowing light amounts of smoke from chimneys that barely obscured the skyline. The clumps of populated areas were rare in this land, so Raphael moved closer, keeping his reiatsu almost completely suppressed as he wandered closer; as he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself or killing any innocents that just happened to cross his path as he wandered closer. Looking about the area for a few moments, he casually tucked his broad hands into his pockets for warmth, nestling his mouth and nose down into the neck of his fur lined vest, the gold lining of which actually provided a good deal of warmth.
The pleasant crunch of snow causing an almost child-like amount of glee in the ancient being as the combat boots he wore, were only accustomed lately to pressing into the hot sands of Hueco Mundo. Wandering the snow, while similar to his homeland, was a welcomed change as the texture and feel was completely different than that of the sandy crevices that he was forced to move through in his new ‘home’. Taking a couple of precautionary steps and sensing out the area around the village, he wandered into it; noting a few men dressed in winter wear discussing some sort of convention nearby over piping hot bowls of fish stew. Moving up closer, both of them turned their heads toward him.
“Shit…spirit sensitive’s.” Raphael thought rapidly and braced himself to flee, but soon found himself being pushed closer by another man behind him. The being fazed immediate through him; shivering as he did so; which made Raphael smile lightly as he listened in about some computer science convention occurring only a few miles away. The men talked for a while, discussing the thoughts and ideas on the new computers coming out and passing around an information magazine which showed new models; after a few minutes, Raphael found himself intrigued, but without warning, the men’s wives came through the doors of the cozy homes. Calling the men in for dinner; which smelled delicious as it wafted in through the cedar cracks and out of the welcoming doors, as they left, Raphael felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness wash over him as the cold seeped into his body once more. Glancing down at the small pot of fish stew the men had left out, the espada reached down, plucking up his own bowl of the thick broth, slurping it down rapidly as it warmed his throat and stomach. In mortal words, it was delicious, the thick broth was full of potatoes, carrots and leeks; the north Atlantic Cod which was used for the broth coincided nicely with all of the flavors along with whatever spice they had used to season it. Shoveling in two piping hot bowls of the stew and chewing through the crunchy bits of potato and leek, Raphael eventually found himself gazing off in the direction of the computer convention.
Emerald eyes locked on their destination; he casually pressed on through the fleeting flurries of snow that cascaded down into his blonde locks. Every step bringing him closer to his destination; his body ignoring the freezing weather around him, after all, he was already dead, so what did it matter? He couldn’t die from exposure nor could the elements unless they were about as extreme as a volcanic eruption or he was left in them for unprecedentedly long periods of time. Not only that, but the ubiquitous nature of an Arrancar’s gargunta made traveling back to Las Noches as a simple solution to that problem in any case. Sighing, Raphael’s shoulder’s dropped down as he murmured the name of his beloved several times as the memories of her death haunted him to this day; still, a small smile came to his face as he recalled the finally moment he had seen her. The radiant beauty of the woman he had once loved; gleaming out over Asgard, her eyes looking at him with so much love and laughing at the pranks that Thor and Loki played on him. All of them were laughing and their eyes danced with glee at the prosperity that should have lasted forever, but it hadn’t. That flame of hatred for his once great comrade still burned; he recalled how Hilde couldn’t go on without him and had taken her own life in his absence. Now back in his homeland, those memories burned against his psyche, but he had nothing he could do and no claim to any sort of retribution against the people here. Long, long ago…he had avenged that particular insult, but it had not made him a happy man and misery still hung about him like a cloud at times. Maybe that is why he seeks so much to bring peace and prosperity to other Arrancar, as a way to atone for his own sins; still, none could say that Raphael wasn’t a man of his word and not one to fight unless absolutely needed.
As the final steps toward the compound where the convention was held ended, Raphael stopped his thoughts on the matter. His seraphic face glancing over the many visages of humanity who had gathered about him; the loud beeping of technological advance and the speech patterns of those heralding in the dawn of humanities next great innovations. It brought a smile to his face and for a moment, he forgot what had been robbed from him and simply slipped into the crowd; unaware of who else might be there.
