Only A Blind Man Can Descibe Such Beauty [OPEN]

[Indubitably]

The Hanging Gardens of Sylian. Although Milo had seen these majestic gardens before, they never ceased to stop his breathing. He would stare in awe at the beauty and he would let the color seep through his being. As he would gawk he would feel his head get light and nearly fall down as his lips turned blue as he forgot to breathe. The breath of the wind blew against him, ruffling his hair in and out of its already messy form. He spoke to himself,

“You would think that I was blind..." he gave a slight laugh and smiled from one corner of his mouth with a smirk, “There are no words to describe such beauty.”

His leather boots crunched on the broken rocks beneath his feet that lined the garden. Every once in a while he would kick a small rock out of its place and watch it skip across the garden. The flowers were more beautiful than he had ever seen them before. He chuckled slightly. They would be even more beautiful the next time he saw them. He knew.

He stopped walking.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the sunlight as it shone down on the garden. Heaven’s Eye was watching him, watching over him. Mio always believed that the sun, Heaven’s Eye as it was called often, was his mother, Kathryn, watching over him in the Heavens beyond the cloud and even the stars above them. He often wished he could float on the clouds, but there were none to today. He wanted to be closer to her, but that was impossible.

His expression changed to sorrow as he thought of the real mother that he had never had. Layla. He huffed with disapproval. She was nothing but a replacement for the motherly love he was supposed to have.

Gravel crunched behind him.

A pause.

Someone was coming.

[Clove]

Clove walked around in the garden. Hearing a voice speaking to himself she walked towards it. She only came here for comfort and this time she was not alone at all. She turned around and spotted a boy. He looked about her age. She was about to speak when the boy. She stuffed her hand into one pocked where her pocket knife lay resting peacefully. She did not want to use it so she crept up cautiously behind the boy. She then said "What are you doing" in a very low menacing growl. She knew she should not have done it but she was not used to seeing many people these days they normally ran away from her but Clove did not mind one bit she was used to it. Her hand closed around her pocket knife. This move seemed quite visible but she did not care one bit. She clenched the pocket knife tightly in her hand not taking them out of the pockets. She glared icily at the boy.

[Indubitably]

Milo had trained in swordsmanship for many, many years. For that reason, he always kept a sword safely in the hilt at his side. He swore he would never kill anyone, but he was naïve with his young age and innocence. Milo was also trained to see hidden movements. This came useful when with his reflexed with the quick draw of a sword. Milo was no idiot. He saw the girl reach for her pocket. While, at first, he suspected nothing, when she clutched her hand and drew something from her pocket, the boy was quick to react.

He jumped back and lowered his stance, his hand resting on the hilt of his unsheathed blade.

He glared at her.

She glared back.

They glared at each other.

Silence was broken between them as Milo spoke in his deepened voice, ripe with maturity. “You, girl. You plan to slaughter me?” he said. Shock clearly toned his voice, but it was unwavering and purposeful. She looked at her and her brown hair and dashing hazel eyes.

Milo did not plan to use his sword against the girl unless it was called for. He looked at her through burning eyes. What was she doing? He wondered, but he did not know, and he could not answer his own question.

“Put the knife down and walk away. A pretty face should not carry such a sharp edge.” Milo was in no way commenting her for her face, but referring solely to the fact that girls should not carry a weapon of any sort. It was unnecessary and always had been. Girls did laundry and took care of the little ones and cooked dinner and cleaned house. Never did a girl slash a blade for a man simply breathing. “Now.” He demanded, his hand still resting on his hilt but he now held with a more firm grip.

Please, don’t make me use this, he begged to himself.

[Clove]

"May i ask you why i should put it away" said Clove who was not surprised at all by the boys reaction. She held onto the pocket knife comfortably. She was in no mood to talk. She jumped up on one of the hedges and sat down gracefully on top of it. She was not as heavy as she had looked. She played around with the pocket knife rubbing her fingers across the blade of the pocket knife. She tucked her knife back into her pocket but she led onto it just in case he tried to beat her to a bloody pulp. She was unsure of the boy even if he had looked friendly enough. She was still glaring her eyes boring into his. She did not know if that would be uncomfortable to him but she did not care one little tiny bit. Not even a smidge.

[Indubitably]

Milo’s muscles tensed as the girl rubbed the edge of her knife. Was she…was she contemplating on killing him? Milo laughed inside. The girl could not touch him; he was sure about that. Milo had the largest sword possible, a broadsword. Its need for two hands made his attacks strong, though slightly slower than that required for a one handed sword. No need, though. Milo was swift and agile with his youth and smart in the technicality of hand to hand combat. This girl stood no chance. Even so, he was not going to let his guard down, not for one second.

Milo’s eyes burrowed as the girl placed her knife back into her pocket. Where it belongs he thought. But why? He could not answer. There was no answer. She was crazy, he thought, demonic, insane, possessed. As long as her hand stayed in her pocket, Milo’s hand did not leave the hilt of his broadsword.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

Again, they looked at each other.

It was quiet.

Unmoving.

Anticlimactic.

Milo straightened himself and got rid of his threatening stance. He did not, however, move his hand from his hilt. Still, his muscles were tense. He was not giving the woman much credit. She didn’t need it. She was a woman. He laughed inside. Such false threats, he thought.


Did she hear?

Yes.

Did she listen?

No.

“I only say you should not have a weapon. What need do you have for it? You are a woman, take no offense. As I said, a pretty face does not need a sharp edge.” Milo spoke politely and respectfully. Best not to anger the beast, he supposed.

He looked at her, in the eyes, and spoke. “You, what is your name?” he asked. His tone was not colored with that of a question, but a demand for her to tell her name. He smiled to hide his lack of comfort in the situation and the intensity between the two. “Pardon me, ma’am,” again with the unneeded respect. He gave a slight bow, his free arm touching his chest as he did so. “I am Milo Boblec,” he lifted and looked towards her again with a warm smile on his face.

He would hide his discomfort. She would not see it.

Milo was not weak.

[Clove]

(WIP again Sorry)

Clove ignored him. "The names Clove, Clove Sevina." said Clove thinking of him saying what need was her pocket knife for.

First of all it was handy

Second she was not the nice kind

Third she could do anything with a pocket knife even kill someone with it

Fourth who was he calling pretty

Fifth she could use it for comfort

Totally weird?

Yes of course

Why?

No one knows.

She continued to stare. She did not blink she did not move. She held on tightly to her pocket knife. She has never talked to a guy other than those who threatened to perhaps kill her which would be entirely impossible sometimes.