A Fall

I’m back. They are back! I know. Crazy. It’s almost insane. But it has happened.s

–Beginning Expressive Narration of Recording 32-

“I know what to do,” Lapadj says like a revelation.

“And what is that?” Mark, Sarela, and Grapefruit all say in their own way.

The Kharatzara does not immediately answer with words. He lunges his body through the air, colliding against Mark’s wet form. Fiery blue begins to swirl around Lapadj and thus the Sawapash. The substance of a Kharatzara using the power of the souls in their tail gem.

“I can do whatever I want,” Lapadj says. “I can destroy my life if I want to. I can destroy you without destroying my own. I am going to defeat you with no cost to myself except my time.”

“Really,” Mark states rather than asks. He smirks and then water rises from his sides, turning into spikes to pierce Lapadj.

The Kharatzara flicks them away with his raw energy and then sends them both into a downward spiral. Not a chaotic fall, no, but a controlled, deliberate one. The trajectory of it is clear to my analysis, but to lesser beings this is not known so I will not say what Lapadj’s aim is. The aim of Grapefruit and the Szarehan, however, is to follow on after them without doing a thing.

“Yes, really,” Lapadj reiterates in common, doing himself no justice.

“We shall see,” Mark says.

Then he gushes out a stream of water that sends the ignited Kharatzara backwards, flying through space at a swift pace. They both stall in the air, still high above the surface of Earth. Instead of a sprawling city being beneath them, there is a tan span of dessert. Lapadj grins at its sight then forces himself at Mark again, repeating the same motion of throwing him down to the Earth.

This time, Lapadj puts more of his soul-fire into it and Mark’s water fails to be at all effective. Lapadj swipes at the gems that are the source of the liquid and tears them off and throws them off of him. Sarela blows them up, still trailing on after them.

“Nice work, Lapadj,” Sarela calls out. “You are really redeeming yourself.”

“Thanks,” he shouts back to her.

Grapefruit makes a noise of giddy glee as the ground approaches. Lapadj stiffens his body and Mark winces in preparation for the impact. Then the Sawapash lets loose a strangled cry and the groud hits the two Empirians. Chunks of earth get torn and tossed up from their collision. Groans echo through the space and Lapadj is the first to formally rise. The first thing he does make a scoff and then swipes at the recovering Mark with his spiked tail, forcing him down again.

Every time Mark tries to get up off of the hallowed Earth Lapadj swats him down again. This continues for some time until Mark croaks out: “Adumvat. Adumvat. Adumvat…”

Sarela cheers. Grapefruit swings through the air doing much the same.

Lapadj heaves and his blue fire dies down into nothingness. “So this is what is going to happen. You are never going to get in my way again. You are never going to venture into my territory. You will never see Anna again. If I ever see your Human face again, I will consider it an offense and I will not hesitate to break cloak and devour your Kharat.” He pauses, letting those threats sink into Mark’s Neraq. “Do you understand?”

“Aye. Wa. Wa,” Mark pants out, standing straight. His eyes are flushed and he is trembling slightly. “I…I will be off.” He slowly turns away from Lapadj and starts flying away from him.

Sarela waves on after him. “Chartwekey, paepeik!”

“You won!” Grapefruit exclaims to Lapadj.

“I did,” he agrees. Laughter comes from his mouth and he nearly falls back. “I will not have to worry about him anymore. I have claimed my Human territory. No more interruptions.”

“You really have claimed it,” Sarela says bemusedly. “I am worried you are getting too attached to it.”

“Too attached?” Lapadj repeats as he flies out of the hole he made on the surface and up into the air. “I am getting involved with my mission. Is being enthusiastic about something wrong?”

“Bashl, but you are liable to make yourself look like a fool,” she responds. “Not that you already did not look like one.”

He grumbles and mutters something that I do no care to repeat.

“So, what is next?” Grapefruit inquires, floating to him.

He folds his arms. “Back to work.”

And then he flies off into the horizon where the city and his mission awaits. The journey back is merely a recording of them flying and making commentary towards each other. I will not bother to narrate it as it has no value to the purpose of these recordings. Not that most of the events have been, but I have deemed them interesting. The next one certainly is.

–Ending Expressive Narration of Recording 32-