Wind Falling

The Night Colt Kissed Tzeitel

Colt felt like a fool as he sat there for a long time while Tzeitel ran away from him. The realization of what he’d done felt like he had just punched himself in the face. Both cat ears fell back as he tried to figure out what he should do. Should he chase her? Talk to her? Try to fix this?

Part of him said yes, but the other part - the part that loved her with all of his heart - said no. He did not regret kissing her, did not regret holding her in his arms for that moment. It had felt like a small piece of heaven to him and he knew it would probably be all that he got from Tzeitel. She had pushed him away, after all.
As he kept driving, the wind user finally noticed something ahead. It was smoke and it was rising into the sky quickly. Touching down on the clutch and shifting gears, Colt picked up speed, worried someone might be hurt. If he could help, he wanted to. No one deserved to burn to death.

The closer he got, the more he realized it was a burning truck. Someone was trying to stop it with a fire extinguisher, but it kept spreading like a virus. It climbed up along the glass of the windshield, cracking it as the heat grew. The man trying to stop it had to step back and cover his face, coughing.

Screeching to a halt when he hit the breaks, Colt quickly put the mustang into part and got out. “Hey!” He yelled at the man, know the further that fire spread the more likely the truck would blow. “Get back!” Starting to open the door, a cold feeling rushed through him, plummeting to the pit of his stomach. A hand reached toward his sword.

The man was suddenly ablaze, screaming in agony before falling by his truck. “Shit!” Colt hissed and got out, slamming the door shut just as a familiar man appeared between him and the truck. “You...”

Thrane Heinrich with his crimson gaze upon the cat eared wind user. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Colt Westerly.” He said, though there was disgust and disdain in his tone. The man was obviously being sarcastic as he adjusted the gloves her wore. “You really thought you could help this man?”

“What do you want, you bastard?!” Colt hissed out, gripping the handle of his sword in preparation to strike. “Why kill him? He’s done nothing wrong!”

Thrane chuckled coldly, his snow white hair brushing his face as the wind began to pick up. “Using your power already? And here I was positive you were a swordsman of honor.” He joked and suddenly the fire swirled, rushing in an arch around the man and shooting right for Colt.

The wind user didn’t have any time to react, his entire right side getting hit. Yelling out in pain, he went tumbling back into the grass. Thanks to that he was doing the silly stop, drop and roll maneuver. Getting the fire out on his body, he took note of the wall of flames between him and Thrane. Everything hurt, nerve endings screaming and begging his brain to just go silent and ignore the pain, but adrenaline was pumping.

His heart raced wildly as he realized it wasn’t a wall, but a circle of flames all around him. There was no way out - not an easy way out anyway.

“Shit...” He growled under his breath pulled his sword from its sheath. Discarding the sheath, he rushed forward and used all the wind he could manage to muster through the distracting pain. Both hands gripped his sword as he suddenly burst through the flames toward his enemy. With jerky movement and a yell, he swung the sword sideways at Thrane. Whether that yell was of anger or pain was a mystery, even to him.

Sadly, the sword would never make contact with Thrane, for his shield was up and the blade shattered upon impact. The moment this happened, Colt felt as if everything had slowed down and gone into slow motion as he stared in horror at the fragments of his blade. They floated about, twirling and dancing like falling stars.

And then they suddenly stopped in the air. “Did you really think it would be that easy.” Thrane asked raised a hand, snapping his fingers.

The shards of Colt’s own sword were suddenly shooting at him, cutting and stabbing into him. He wanted to move away, to yell out, to escape - anything - but this bastard was holding him in place with that horrid power of his. Blood splattered along the grass behind him as he endured each and every painful slice into his flesh.

And when the last piece stabbed into his left shoulder, he was allowed to fall to the grass. Trying to roll onto his burnt side only made the wind used cry out as white hot pain struck every tiny nerve ending.

So, being unable to escape was expected. Colt was suddenly in the air again, getting hit by things he could not see. Trying to cover himself helped none as he kept feeling fresh cuts, his blood soaking into his clothes. How long was this going to last? How long had it lasted already? Time was blurring together as he kept blacking out and coming to when fresh pain hit him.

And suddenly he was falling...