As soon as Milo caught the letter, he laughed. The matter itself was humorous; how could anyone, especially a ‘young aspiring mage’ from Shirotsume. It was ridiculous, ludicrous almost, but Milo was in the need for some entertainment, and felt sprang up to the challenge. Though Shirotsume was not his favorite place in the world, being too cold and windy for his liking, he packed himself a hip flask filled with fiery fluids.
He zipped himself up in his battle suit and brushed his mangy hair. In the dark of his room, the glow from his tattoos illuminated the walls. Moving stars and crescent moons danced across the ceiling. He reached out with his hand and opened his wardrobe door, then pulled his striped bubble jacket from within. The coat billowed and wrapped around his arms and shoulders with silky ease. He picked up his mask as he made his way towards the balcony door, clipping it to the side of his jacket. The wind kicked up and tousled his hair when Milo stepped outside, and the cold night air shocked his bare toes. The mage briefly crouched low, then erupted into the sky like a comet. A glowing trail of stardust followed him, changing from pink to blue as he climbed higher in the sky. The moon followed him, waning and shining like a dim candle across the country.
The towns below were all extinguished, as the quiet homes were all asleep by now. Milo followed the coastline until he could see the mountains. He dipped his toes in the ocean water, causing the algae to glow as he passed by. The light mage twirled as he soared, never tired of the sensation of flying. The temperature dropped as he followed a river inland, and Milo took a sip of his fiery whisky with each terrain change. On the banks below, he could see the passing onlookers gaze up in curiosity and fear. For those who knew what a cyan trail in the midnight sky meant, they said a prayer and shut their lights off. Milo always appreciated the gesture. Knowing he was well known across the land gave him a thrill. He flicked light from his wrist and cast it across the river, sending glowing star light like a firework over the forest. Owls fled their perches and indiscernible shapes skittered about the trails.
As he neared Shirotsume, he felt an odd sense of deja vu. The odd familiarity caused an intense migraine, and he landed at the foot of an old manor, covered in dust and ash. Magical residue was embedded in the ground, and Milo could feel the memories of his old self bubbling beneath the surface. A splitting headache rang like a bell between his temples, and he knelt to the ground and screamed. He chugged his whisky and casted the Dying Star around himself. Hellish cinders and a torrent of flame surrounded him, and Milo sent the fire into the air, crackling the manor before him and causing it to crumble.
He was able to save himself with telekinesis, and stood out in the cold, silent for a couple minutes and eyes shut. The intense migraine slowly departed, and Milo realized that Shirotsume must have been an important location to him in his past life. There were few other times that this has happened, but Milo was able to suppress the thought successfully each time. When he opened his eyes, he could see a small mob of people up ahead. Not mages, but they outnumbered Milo startlingly. They were mostly burly, strong looking older men, but had no magical frequency to them. Milo rolled his eyes and approached them.
“Evenin’ ge-ge-gentlemen,” he chirped and waved his flask at them. “Ou-Ou-Out for an evening stroll I take it?”
They stopped in their tracks. “You must be lost.” Two of the men apprehensively sized Milo up and down, rolling up their sleeves.
“Indeed I am, I was hiking and l-l-lost track of time, perhaps you could help me find my way back.” Before they could answer, one of the other followers whispered in the lead’s ear, and Milo rolled his eyes and sighed. The lead returned his focus to Milo, and rolled his sleeves up.
“You better get lost right now,” he said, and produced a club from his shoulder strap.
Milo scowled and grit his teeth. “Make me.”
[733/7000]
He zipped himself up in his battle suit and brushed his mangy hair. In the dark of his room, the glow from his tattoos illuminated the walls. Moving stars and crescent moons danced across the ceiling. He reached out with his hand and opened his wardrobe door, then pulled his striped bubble jacket from within. The coat billowed and wrapped around his arms and shoulders with silky ease. He picked up his mask as he made his way towards the balcony door, clipping it to the side of his jacket. The wind kicked up and tousled his hair when Milo stepped outside, and the cold night air shocked his bare toes. The mage briefly crouched low, then erupted into the sky like a comet. A glowing trail of stardust followed him, changing from pink to blue as he climbed higher in the sky. The moon followed him, waning and shining like a dim candle across the country.
The towns below were all extinguished, as the quiet homes were all asleep by now. Milo followed the coastline until he could see the mountains. He dipped his toes in the ocean water, causing the algae to glow as he passed by. The light mage twirled as he soared, never tired of the sensation of flying. The temperature dropped as he followed a river inland, and Milo took a sip of his fiery whisky with each terrain change. On the banks below, he could see the passing onlookers gaze up in curiosity and fear. For those who knew what a cyan trail in the midnight sky meant, they said a prayer and shut their lights off. Milo always appreciated the gesture. Knowing he was well known across the land gave him a thrill. He flicked light from his wrist and cast it across the river, sending glowing star light like a firework over the forest. Owls fled their perches and indiscernible shapes skittered about the trails.
As he neared Shirotsume, he felt an odd sense of deja vu. The odd familiarity caused an intense migraine, and he landed at the foot of an old manor, covered in dust and ash. Magical residue was embedded in the ground, and Milo could feel the memories of his old self bubbling beneath the surface. A splitting headache rang like a bell between his temples, and he knelt to the ground and screamed. He chugged his whisky and casted the Dying Star around himself. Hellish cinders and a torrent of flame surrounded him, and Milo sent the fire into the air, crackling the manor before him and causing it to crumble.
He was able to save himself with telekinesis, and stood out in the cold, silent for a couple minutes and eyes shut. The intense migraine slowly departed, and Milo realized that Shirotsume must have been an important location to him in his past life. There were few other times that this has happened, but Milo was able to suppress the thought successfully each time. When he opened his eyes, he could see a small mob of people up ahead. Not mages, but they outnumbered Milo startlingly. They were mostly burly, strong looking older men, but had no magical frequency to them. Milo rolled his eyes and approached them.
“Evenin’ ge-ge-gentlemen,” he chirped and waved his flask at them. “Ou-Ou-Out for an evening stroll I take it?”
They stopped in their tracks. “You must be lost.” Two of the men apprehensively sized Milo up and down, rolling up their sleeves.
“Indeed I am, I was hiking and l-l-lost track of time, perhaps you could help me find my way back.” Before they could answer, one of the other followers whispered in the lead’s ear, and Milo rolled his eyes and sighed. The lead returned his focus to Milo, and rolled his sleeves up.
“You better get lost right now,” he said, and produced a club from his shoulder strap.
Milo scowled and grit his teeth. “Make me.”
[733/7000]
