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Snippet #1408025

located in Ruins, the forest and its magic., a part of The Ruins of Terran, one of the many universes on RPG.

Ruins, the forest and its magic.

Central to the Ruin.

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Demetrius caught the sight of Rea leaping over Thomas out of the corner of his eye and he turned a little to watch her land on her hands with the ease of years of practice. His eyebrows jumped a little on his face, he was genuinely surprised by her antics. He wasn't exactly an expert but he guessed that she could perform some near-olympic standard gymnastics should she choose to, she definitely had the physique. Yet, amusing as this trick was, he felt his attention being dragged immediately back to the ancient buildings around him, though not before giving a few gentle claps of his hands. It was impressive after all, no matter where they were. He heard Thomas telling them that these predated any other buildings in England and his awe grew. It occured to him that the man could be bending the truth but he didn't think Mr. Thatcher was that kind of person. And even if he was, the fact still felt... Right. Somehow everything here just felt so right. Every sound, every sight, every smell, the feel of the rock, nothing felt out of place, nothing felt disturbed or incomplete. He couldn't explain it and he didn't want to. He was happy enough just being there, maybe he could try to capture the feeling later, while he was inside and gazing out at the forest.

As he made his way slowly around the building he was next to he noticed Ulva trying to suppress a laugh after looking in his direction but he didn't mind. Nothing could bring him down now. He shot her smile and turned back to his main focus here. Again he heard, but barely acknowledged, a voice nearby. It was Ulva telling him she was going to take off after Rea, who he hadn't even noticed leave, and he nodded slowly. "Sure, I'll be right down..." He spoke in a slow voice, as though he were sleepwalking. After a few seconds more of just staring up at the old structure, he turned and saw that Ulva had gone off on her travels. Perhaps he'd been more than just a few seconds, the clearing wasn't exactly tiny and he could have sworn he only looked up briefly. Not to worry he thought. I can see what they find later. And with that he made his way around until he found an arched doorway to give him entry to the timeless stone column.

Inside was something out of dream to the novelist. The stairs ran around one side of the circular room up to another floor. The occaasional missing piece of stone let the stunning sunshine through in blazing beams of light. The corners were doused in shadows, the walls covered in carvings, the floor worn by millenia of footsteps. There was no hanging about this time. Whatever trance this palce had cast over him was either gone or changed and he set off at a quick pace to the stairs, removing his suit jacket and letting it drift to the floor as he did. The puff of dust sent up by the falling fabric was caught as it danced about in a sliver of sun. Had he looked back, he may have seen the shining particles draw together and, for just a moment, make the shape of a wolf before dissolving into random motion. But he didn't look back. He was driven by something new now, a fresh idea, a different perspective. No longer was the tower he started to climb his priority. It was what lay at the top.

He started up the steps, feet slapping on stone in quick succession being the only sound to fill his ears. Then he took them two at a time and started to run, footsteps becoming the sound of drums, breathing becoming the accompanying rythm. He reached the first floor and didn't stop. Didn't so much as look at the drawings in the stone or the ancient creations; pots, statues, various instruments. He only kept running, getting faster as he took the next flight of stairs. His breathing became heavier and he reached his hands to his neck as he ran to remove his tie, which followed the same fate as the jacket as he reached the next set of steps.

By the fourth floor, his breathing was ragged and coming in rasps but still he didn't stop. His frantic tugging at the tie had forced the top button of his shirt to pop off, landing with a tiny clang in a polished metal dish, leaving his shirt hanging open at the top. Some of his hair had pulled itself free of it's ponytail and clung to his shoulders and head as he ran. By the time Demetrius cleared the final flight of stairs he could barely breathe and the thought crossed his mind; I need to get out more. True, he was far from the healthiest person to grace the land but that didn't matter as he made his way to what appeared to be a window. It stood half way up the wall, was nearly four feet tall and arched at the top. He fell forward and his hands caught the bottom windowsill to support his weight and prevent his fall. He simply leant there, panting heavily with sweat begining to break out on his forehead, staring out. The sun cast it's viscious glare from behind and the shadow of the building fell away in front of him, stopping just short of the forest. He followed it's trail with his eyes, seeing the tops of the trees, mostly still, stretch away to meet the blue sky. Every now and then he would notice movement in the canopy. Sometimes just a rustle of leaves, sometimes a bird would fly out, sometimes a shape he did not recognise would appear for just a moment before sinking back to the forest floor... And he leant there, trying to catch his breath, simply staring out with an absent smile on his now very red face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Just outside the clearing, and out of sight of the window from which Demetrius would soon be peering out, stood Nuram. He held himself as still as the trees he used to block the view of himself as he watched the humans go about their activities with contempt but milid interest. It seemed they were not as closed-minded as he had come to believe. It was clear to him that the effect the ruins and it's forest had on all who dwelt within it had passed on to them aswell. So, the power speaks to all... He spoke within his own mind, thinking, planning, scheming. Then he spoke aloud, no greater a sound than the breeze passing through the branches, "Then perhaps you humans may be of use to me yet." And with that he grinned, showing again his pointed teeth, before moving off deeper into the forest as he saw one of the visitors heading his way.

Not long later another made it's way in, having spotted something moving amongst the shadows. What it was he couldn't be sure. This place was his home and he saw almost everything that passed by him as what it was; his daily life. But the human was captivated and ran across the forest floor, dodging roots and low-hanging braches in the clumsy way that only those who have grown to rely on their own-made devices can. And the Girtablilu gave chase. He ran at a mild pace, nowhere near flat out, and kept his distance just in case the human ahead stopped and turned. He followed more on sound than sight, listening to the heavy, undignified footfalls of the person ahead who thought there was only one chase going on here. For such a large creature he was surprisingly lithe and graceful, never needing to brush aside wildlife as he twisted and turned midstep on his way deeper into the trees he knew so well.

When the female fell, Nuram too stopped and looked ahead through a tiny gap in the leaves to see what she had been following. Yes, of course. Curiosity would most certainly get the better of her with this beast. It had even claimed the interest of himself upon arrival all those years ago. It had been the first ethereal being he had come across and it had fascinated him. Unfortunately, the appeal had been lost since meeting Nim. Anything that held an aura of semi-reality was instantly dismissed now as an annoyance. It was unfortunate because despite his appearances Nuram was once an appreciator of the natural world and all that lay in it. But the past few centuries had twisted him and all that mattered now was the voice of the ruins.

Qutie a way behind Ulva, beyond many trees, deep in a patch of darkness cast by the overcrossing branches above, sat two thin slits of violet watching her from afar.

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