Discord's Requiem

Chapter Twelve

Damascus stares straight ahead to the ceiling, waiting for Leorio to fall into a sound sleep before she goes out. She couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake him up, nor did she want him to worry about her whereabouts. So she slips out from the comfort of her warm bed towards the door where her shoes are, making sure to grab her swords propped against the wall before she puts on her shoes. She is still in the baggy shirt and sweats she had been in after her shower and didn't see the point in changing into her other clothes for this.

She looks back on Leorio's calm face as he rests peacefully unaware of her soon disappearance. A small, soft smile dances across her face before she exits the hotel room, walking through the silent halls before leaving the premises of the hotel entirely.

The streets are still lit from festive lights that had been hung the day before, as well as the full and glowing moon that loomed over the darkened city. Many of the lights within the windows of shops and homes had been shut off for the remainder of the night until the sun rose the next day. The occasional people are out, many of them crammed into tight and ominous alleyways, most likely gambling on fights in hopes of getting rich fast for the auctions the next day.

Women line the streets, wearing provocative outfits and flirting with any individual who passes by, this includes Damascus, who simply waves off their advances with a small wave of her hand.

She continues walking on a path out of the city to the surrounding Gordeau Desert. The stars were brighter out here than with the city, and the moon was significantly more enlarged and beautiful than when dimmed by the city lights and pollution. Looking back to the city she had come from, she looks at the faint fuzzy lights that illuminate the horizon before turning back to the path in front of her.

The wind blows, allowing the sand and dirt to be lifted from the ground and circle around her. The night is cool and dark as there is nothing to light the area, but it doesn't bother her, even as goosebumps begin to form on her arms and her eyes squint to see what lay ahead of them.

She sees a plateau ahead, it's jagged outline barely visible as some black clouds have passed over the moon, dimming the surrounding visibility even more than before.

Undaunted by the dark and the height of the cliff, Damascus begis the climb up with her two old swords on her back and her newly bought one at her hip. The trek up is dangerous and ever challenging as gusts of wind would cause her to misplace her feet or nearly fling her from the rock wall if she did not hold on tightly enough. But in light of all this, Damascus continues the climb until she reaches the top.

She sits down, examining her dirty and sweaty hands, which may have also been bloodied if Damascus had not taken the time to focus her nen to her hands in an effort to prevent them from being injured.

Damascus closes her eyes, not needing them to see the scene around her. It is a beautiful and perfect night for meditation and strengthening her aura.

Allowing herself to get lost within her own mind, the visions soon come.

Damascus is standing on the edge of a cliff, a deep, dark, and churning ocean rages beneath her as storm clouds thunder above her, creating such a minacious scene. The wind blows the salt air through her hair, causing her to have to take a step back from its wondrous power. Even her heart has been affected by the atmosphere, as it pounds wildly in her chest, making her breathing short and sharp,

"Why don't you throw yourself off the cliff?" A voice asks.

Damascus looks around, not being able to see anyone besides her for what appears to be miles.

"And why would I do that?" She asks the voice she cannot see.

"Why a test, of course! Would you not be able to save yourself from dying in the fall?" The voice is surprisingly seductive, despite its harsh and cold words. His voice drips of honey, spinning beautiful silk words like a spider spins silk webs, but Damascus was not a fly.

"Do not test me, for I am not yours to control. Your words won't sway me, no matter how alluring you may make them. Now leave my head."

At once, the thundering chorus above her ceases and Damascus opens her eyes to see the calm and bright ocean beneath her. The wind has also become a soothing breeze that helps the waves lick at the sand on the beach below. Her body is at peace with the scene. Her breathing and heartbeat are returned to normal.

Damascus opens her eyes to see her three swords floating in the air before her, each of them unsheathed and imbued with her nen. The new sword had been stubborn earlier, so it was nice seeing it obey her wishes for it now.

Damascus lifts her head to the sky, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding. This meditation session wasn't as mentally draining than the last, whose focus had been on both physical and mental strength. She had refused to eat or drink for 40 days and 40 nights and when she was meditating during that time, the man whose voice was like honey, would tell her to turn a stone into food to eat, or turn a cloud into rain so she could drink.

Both encounters with this man whose voice was like honey, as she started to call him, would only show up during her mediation sessions, but she was understandingly wary of his intentions for her.

What did he want? Who was he? Why did he exist within the unkept corners of her mind, only to escape into her thoughts when she allowed herself to be the most vulnerable?

Nevertheless, Damascus didn't let it ruin the obvious progress she had made within herself and her newly acquired sword.

Using her nen she commands her blades back to their sayas, the japanese word for the sheath of a katana, before turning her attention back to the city she had left.

I hope Leorio didn't wake up and worry. 

A/N

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile and I will apologize for my bad writing rn :(

Anyways, I hope this chapter will reveal what's so symbolic about Damascus!

And I hope it isn't too boring of a chapter!