"Oh my, Astraviel, it seems you're a little bit hungry."
The only thing that signified Malchor the VIII's coming was that of a small spark, which lit up in the air. A spark that vanished as quickly as it had come, then reappeared again moments later. This spark continued to dance in such a pattern, and a pattern it was; a small but brilliant light blinking in the same spot, over and over, hypnotizing all who daring to look at it, stare at it, gawk at it. All except for Astraviel would be in awe at its tiny magnificence. Then they would die.
For from the first spark came another spark, which appeared right next to the first one, blinking in that same awe-inspiring pattern. Then a third spark appeared, beating exactly with the other two, like a heart. Slowly, but steadily gaining in speed, more sparks began to pop into the air, pop one, two, three, four, five-six-seveneightnineteneleventwelvethirteenfourteenfifteensixteen - all beating and pulsating with the first one, like an artificial heart.
These sparks continued to mold and shape themselves until they created an outline of a hunched man, and then wham - suddenly time and space warped, curving downwards to the center area between Astraviel, the spark-being and the two Shinobi. It continued to curve, to twist, to alter, and then it suddenly ploped upwards, like a raindrop falling from a cloud but only in reverse; and from the patch of land where the plop of time and space had come from there was a wave, like the waves that happen when a raindrop hits water. This waves rippled outwards, snaking across the ground silently and amazingly fast, like a cobra, and passed by Astraviel and the two shinobi's feet, giving them all an odd feeling...of something. It was a strange feeling, but one in which the shinobi would have no time to dwell upon.
The ball of warped space-time floated upwards, completely silver yet reflecting in each of the shinobi's eyes parts of his live as well as the lives of whoever they knew. There was no set pattern for this sort of thing - this merely reflected what the user knew, what they could have know and what they would know before them, and that took a shape of a silverish, melding and twisting time-space sphere. Simple, in Malchor's mind.
The sparks suddenly came together, and created one, single entity; this entity shined with the power of all of the energy, then stopped as a layer of golden skin was added to it. This skin outlined the rough edges and all the brilliant spots that consisted of Malchor; who was grinning, from ear to ear. He was allying himself with Astraviels for a little fun; after all, the newly formed god was not even a year old. Who cared about him?
"Astraviels, have your fun. That ball there is merely a safeguard, in case these "shinobi" actually harm us."
Malchor crossed his arms, and waited for the two to act.
The only thing that signified Malchor the VIII's coming was that of a small spark, which lit up in the air. A spark that vanished as quickly as it had come, then reappeared again moments later. This spark continued to dance in such a pattern, and a pattern it was; a small but brilliant light blinking in the same spot, over and over, hypnotizing all who daring to look at it, stare at it, gawk at it. All except for Astraviel would be in awe at its tiny magnificence. Then they would die.
For from the first spark came another spark, which appeared right next to the first one, blinking in that same awe-inspiring pattern. Then a third spark appeared, beating exactly with the other two, like a heart. Slowly, but steadily gaining in speed, more sparks began to pop into the air, pop one, two, three, four, five-six-seveneightnineteneleventwelvethirteenfourteenfifteensixteen - all beating and pulsating with the first one, like an artificial heart.
These sparks continued to mold and shape themselves until they created an outline of a hunched man, and then wham - suddenly time and space warped, curving downwards to the center area between Astraviel, the spark-being and the two Shinobi. It continued to curve, to twist, to alter, and then it suddenly ploped upwards, like a raindrop falling from a cloud but only in reverse; and from the patch of land where the plop of time and space had come from there was a wave, like the waves that happen when a raindrop hits water. This waves rippled outwards, snaking across the ground silently and amazingly fast, like a cobra, and passed by Astraviel and the two shinobi's feet, giving them all an odd feeling...of something. It was a strange feeling, but one in which the shinobi would have no time to dwell upon.
The ball of warped space-time floated upwards, completely silver yet reflecting in each of the shinobi's eyes parts of his live as well as the lives of whoever they knew. There was no set pattern for this sort of thing - this merely reflected what the user knew, what they could have know and what they would know before them, and that took a shape of a silverish, melding and twisting time-space sphere. Simple, in Malchor's mind.
The sparks suddenly came together, and created one, single entity; this entity shined with the power of all of the energy, then stopped as a layer of golden skin was added to it. This skin outlined the rough edges and all the brilliant spots that consisted of Malchor; who was grinning, from ear to ear. He was allying himself with Astraviels for a little fun; after all, the newly formed god was not even a year old. Who cared about him?
"Astraviels, have your fun. That ball there is merely a safeguard, in case these "shinobi" actually harm us."
Malchor crossed his arms, and waited for the two to act.
Last edited:
