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The Phoenix Reborn

Satisfactory Essays
Asch's eyes flew open as he violently sat up from his previous lying position, his chest heaving; the shadows of the recurring nightmare he had just endured still lingered in the depths of his mind. "Not again," he moaned. Even though a cold draft swirled around the room that he shared with his infant sister, he was in a sweat. He waited for his heart to stop racing, and threw the threadbare quilt that served as his bead spread off of his legs. Standing up, he combed his fingers through his dark hair, doing the best he could to tame the messy tangle that had evolved from his fitful tossing and turning. Creeping towards his humble dresser, he winced as the mildewed floorboards creaked beneath his feet. Glancing over at his baby sister, still asleep in her crib, he breathed a silent sigh of relief, and gathered his clothes and bags. As soon as he shut the door to the bathroom behind him, he exhaled, this time audibly. Turning the faucet on, he wrinkled his nose as the stench of sulfur filled the room. "Ugh - That's new," he coughed out, hurrying to cut of the faucet. It seemed that he wouldn't be taking a shower this morning. He dressed, and quizzically looked in the mirror as he slipped on his cargo shorts and shoes. His mind still foggy from sleep, it took him a few seconds to realize that he had his white V-neck, emblazoned with his golden emblem, on backwards. A slight red tint arose in his cheeks as he quickly put the shirt on correctly, grateful that no one had seen the mistake. As he slipped the last vial of dust into his baldric, he picked up Blademerang, his weapon, slowly sheathing the double edged short sword across his right shoulder. A shiver of excitement ran down his spine as the familiar shing of the blade being s... ... middle of paper ... ... Please do not torture me with the past by reminding me why you are here today in the place of my son." His hand instinctively reaching up to grasp his bandana, Asch's happiness from receiving the birthday present wilted as he listened to Vernon, who was only speaking the truth. Not daring to open his mouth again, the two sat in silence once more. Thankfully, the tension-filled car ride was coming to a close; out of the tinted windows, Asch could see the airport, growing ever bigger in his field of vision. He quietly checked his scroll for the terminal number going to Beacon, and made sure he had his student I.D. card that served as his ticket onto the airship. Content that everything was ready, he restlessly sat in the cruising limousine, fiddling with his throwing knife as his future loomed ever closer in the form of an airship bearing the famous crest of Beacon.
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