Closed Collaboration between HansGaelian and I. (ElouiseFieldViolet)
The crescent moon looked down over the grassy hills of Pacatezza, a beacon of light in the dark night air. Not a creature stirred here, no cats howled, no dogs barked, no babies cried. It was like a land deserted, dead. Peace was everything here. Literally. Violence and crime? Non existent. Anger and Pain? Those too. Also absent however, was Laughter and Happiness, and many other things.
The people and animals that inhabit this land, are peaceful, more so than you could ever imagine. Like zombies really, never feeling anything but an eerie sense of calm. That is their primary, hell only, emotion. The Placare. A race of people, that lived in ultimate peace, until the end of their days. The Eye of the Storm is their home. A place of calm, still. They could never do or be anything but calm.
Rayla looked down over the town with a sneer, a fleeting glance travelling in the direction of the walls of air and lightning that encased this God forsaken place, before turning to leave. A whistle rang out across the night air. Rayla cocked her head to the side with a smile. I'd know that whistle anywhere. Without any further thought, she shot off across the open fields like a Jack Rabbit.
Rayla isn't like the rest of her kind. She's an Insurgent. Something in her genetic code, made her different from them. Unaffected by the overwhelmingly calming power of the Eye, she could exhibit a range of emotions, her fellow Placare could not. These feelings, gave way to power. She was not the only one.
She skidded to a stop, dirt flying up around her feet in a cascade of Earth and Stones. She laughed, eyes bright with joy as she stood before her Father. His grey eyes crinkled with his smile, his crooked white teeth shining brilliantly in the moonlight. His clothes were tattered and torn, dirt cloying to his hair and nails.
He held his arms open wide, "Ray-Ray."
Rayla jumped into his arms with a laugh, hugging him tight. "Daddy. I thought I might not ever see you again." Pain, one of the emotions she most disliked, broke through in her voice.
Her Father pulled away slightly, setting her on her feet with a frown. He smoothed her unruly red curls down, setting a butterfly light kiss on her forehead. "Never think that baby. I'll always come back."
He'd been away for months now, longer than he had ever planned. Her Father was one of the only Insurgents capable of wielding air to the degree that he could leave the confines of the Great Tornado that housed them all. He left regularly, hunting for things he could bring home, human inventions that we could find a use for.
Rayla didn't say anything else on the subject, just took her Father's hand, and walked further into the fields with him. Most of the time, she wasn't looking where she was going, but at him, studying him. Trying to collect information for the next time he left. What he looked like, like really. The little wrinkles on the top of his forehead, the crows feet, the new grey hairs on his beard.
The night was cool, but then, it always was here, a perpetual state of just right temperature. Just past the open fields, in small throng of trees, was a clearing. Standing in the clearing, was a house, unlike any other in Pacatezza. This one, was built like a human house, not a cavern in a hill, or a wooden hut, but bricks and mortar. Just an example of the many human inventions Killian had brought into his World.
The door was unlocked swiftly, the Witching hour would be upon them soon. You see, when I said not a creature here stirred, and were nothing but peaceful, I was, shall we say, bending the truth. The Parapetto were an exception. Wild beasts, made of the same as any creature, muscle, bone, blood, sinew, but also something else.
They, were the embodiment of the Tornado, the force that governed this land. The Witching hour was their time, time to hunt, time to kill. Any living thing that was not locked away from their reach, was their prey. The Placare were generally safe, aside from the occasional breach, but the Insurgents? They were actively hunted by The Parapetto. They are intelligent beasts too.
Killian had had to invest in an expansive security system to keep the beasts at bay. If and when they found his home, they would know that it belonged to no ordinary Placare. They couldn't tolerate the Insurgents existing. The Storm needs it's eye, without it, it is no longer a Tornado, it would cease to be.
The Insurgents could jeopardize things, because they disturbed the Calm of the Eye. The Parapetto would do anything to prevent that. Killian tucked his little girl into bed, kissing her cheek with a smile. Her eyes were closed, deep in sleep as she had been as soon as the security system was armed. He looked down at her a moment with a sigh.
This beautiful woman was no longer his little baby, but an adult, one yearning for a life beyond her own. Her power would find her soon, he knew, he could feel it. It was like a force of nature, he knew she would be powerful, as powerful as her Mother, or maybe more so. The problem was, her Mother couldn't handle that much power, didn't survive it. Killian couldn't help but look down at his child and think, will she survive it?