I create a world of finite somethings

School is back in, and while my schedule is actually quite good to get some writing in, with my girlfriend back I've been spending most of my free time catching up with her. So Death and Justice keeps getting put on a backburner.

I have the major images in my head written--the ones that got me to write this in the first place. Mainly filling in the spaces between these images.

I3uster be warned, this will spoil what I know will be your favorite bit in this half of the story.

The sound was sharp and quick, irritating, like taking two separate sounds of nails on a chalkboard and combining them. Rochus glanced to his feet just in time to see the steel plating beneath him give way, and he fell into the ship’s main hold through a manhole-shaped cut.

The noise of objects flying through the air surrounded him seemingly from every angle. As he distorted the haze of light from the hole and through the lattice grate where containers could be loaded, shapes took form—

Another dozen sacraments struck at his feet the moment he had cast enough light to see by. Rochus glanced their way, ready to command the Black Keys to fail, when he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Turning back the other way, he caught sight of a dark red form slithering at him like a pouncing cobra and suddenly his entire head was engulfed in a smooth fabric.

He distorted the cloth with a glare, tearing the fabric away from his body at once. The red material drifted from his body with a flutter, though he ignored the girl wielding it in favor of turning his attention at the most aggressive of the three.

Just in time to see a short sword flying in his direction, the one the boy in bandages had held. Though he could just as easily sidestep the weapon, Rochus could not help but wrest the blade into his control instead, make it his, then turn it on the boy in turn. He twisted the weapon’s sovereignty to be under his control, plucking it from the air and into his domain.

Movement caught his eye, and his gaze shot upward to the inverted figure flying over him, a dark fringe covering a loose bandage—

“Kyokushi.”

Pale orbs like moonlight and the sudden glint of steel were the last things his eyes set their gaze upon.