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sparkindarknessOf course, I've got my boys back to where I want them now, haven't I? What approaches normality for them. So now they choose the time to be mouthy, even though it's far too late and I desperately need sleep.
Anyway, it seems the angst had come close to dropping a level or two. And there were loose ends, so here's a clear up fic to round off the current arc. It's not nice and fluffy, but the last two were(ish) so I'm due some angst, right?
Of course the effect of this is that everyone else is complaining that they're not getting nearly enough air time.
And I have to update my fic index in memories now.
I pulled us out, it was a long uphill struggle, pulling against the bonds Rhiannon had woven around my mind. It was difficult, but not impossible, it wasn’t Rhiannon’s best work. She had let her fear control her, so very unlike her. She also didn't understand the darkness in my mind, the darkness they had put there. She certainly hadn’t realised the power I had over it.
It helped that Rick was there. She hadn’t designed these weaves to keep him trapped inside. He didn’t belong in my mind. He confused her spell.
When I finally got us out, it was like pulling the cork out of a bottle. We seemed to shoot out and back to our bodies. It was disorientating to say the least. I lay as still as I could in the strange circle Rick had drawn on the floor, waiting for the dizziness to fade.
Next to me Rick collapsed. He had tried to stand up too soon. He was naked from the waist up, his body covered in strange smeared patterns. He was sweating like a marathon runner, his chest rising and falling like bellows. It must have taken powerful magic to plunge into the depths of my mind, even for a shaman, who calls his power from the spirits, it must have been a draining experience. It would be me having to look after him for the next few days. He’d earned it though.
There was a shadow over Rick. For a second I nearly panicked, for a second I thought the darkness had come back with us. Reality was slowly reasserting itself. A man stood over Rick. Taller than me, with long black hair and eyes the double of mine. Uncle Nikolai. What was the old shaman doing here?
My eyes widened to take in the scene. Nikolai had deep scratches in one arm that seemed to be festering badly. To my dark-sight they gleamed with a virulent emerald green, corrupted with daemonic power. The power was held in check, barely, but a ring of desperate life spirits, spurred on by a low rumbling chant my uncle managed to maintain without seeming to pause for breath or thought. One eye was kept warily on the ground to his left.
There crouched Ahrimadan, face twisted in feral menace, eyes gleaming with infernal anger. Glowing runes hovered over his fur, sizzling violently, trying to push themselves onto the cat’s skin. They couldn't close the gap, though I could almost feel the spirits within them screaming with effort. but Neither could my familiar’s throbbing power push them further back, or allow him to close any further with the shaman.
The shaman was moving away from the cat. He was walking slowly towards Rick. My lover was still desperately trying to stand, his arms shaking with the effort, sweat pouring out of him in fresh streams. His voice shook as he tried some invocation to summon his spirit allies. He was too weak. They couldn't hear his call, he couldn’t make himself heard over the power of the other shaman.
He was going to die.
Nikolai screamed, falling heavily to the floor. My power had lashed out against him almost before I'd had time to think about it. Not a skilled strike, or even a powerful one, just a burst of focused entropy. Pain burned along my tattoos, hot and quick knifing down to the very bones. It wasn’t enough, alone they weren’t enough. My wards had melted, or had I removed them for battle? It seemed so long ago. Whatever their fate, they were not here to restrain me.
I stood. I tried to make the movement graceful, but the stabbing pain in my ankles made me clumsy, awkward. It didn’t matter, Nikolai wasn't in a condition to critique. He was far more concerned with his own leg, with the flesh that had run and melted, reeking of putrefaction, blacked by rot. It formed a vile pool by his collapsed form. I could see bone through the gaping wound in his leg. I liked it.
“Are you going to beg for mercy?” I watched him, idly curious. Would he beg, or would his foolish pride keep him silent? I wondered if I could make him beg before the end. He must have a breaking point after all, it stood to reason.
“I will not beg, sorcerer! I will not!”
I shrugged. I should have known really. Pride was always the ruling force in the clan. I took a moment to lean over my poor Rick. I narrowed my dark-sight, checking him for injuries, breakages or some last lingering taint from my mind. Nothing. He was fine, tired, but fine. I smiled gently at him, kissing him on his forehead.
Then I turned back to my kinsman. “I suppose begging would be rather a waste of resources... After all, it’s not very likely to change my mind.” I leaned closer to him. I felt rich sparkling thrill as my power danced through my veins. I knew without looking that my dark blue eyes, identical to my uncle’s, had sank into a deep roiling black. I knew he could see that things lurked in the depths. And I could taste its fear.
It was delicious.
“Far better to save your breath for screaming with.”
The dark corona surrounded my hands, building, growing waxing. It begged to be used. It begged for release.
“Darren!” Rick! I spun, looking for some threat I’d missed. There was only Rick, panting on the floor. His eyes were wide and scared. They shone with... unshed tears?
“Please don’t. Please...” I stared at him. I didn’t understand. Don’t what? How could he beg for Nikolai’s life? The man deserved to die! I have earned the right to kill this creature.
I have earned the right to enjoy it.
“No Darren! You’ve won. He’s beat Darren, let it go.” Let him go?!
“Why?!” I couldn’t believe it, let him go? “He came here for me. He came to kill me. The hunter cannot whine when he dies on the stag’s antlers!”
“Shit Darren, you aren’t an animal! Don’t let them do this to you! Every time they come you get closer to becoming what they think you. Please Darren. Please.”
I didn’t understand. My heart cried for that last surge of power. Just a little power, just a little flow to release the soul from the body. It would have been so easy. He should die. I should kill him. I wanted it so badly that the very thought was nearly erotic. Sweet anticipation, glorious need I normally couldn’t find outside of Rick’s arms.
Rick’s arms... his pleading eyes. He shouldn't have to beg me. Not for anything.
I stalked angrily out of the room. With sharp, jerky movements I grabbed the first aid box from the bathroom. I froze Nikolai with an iron glare as I approached.
I wasn't gentle. I wasn’t a doctor, I had little skill at this. Besides, I wanted his pain. I wanted him to squirm and bite his lip. I wanted to see tears well in those eyes. But I did it. Every nerve screamed against it, but I did it.
Nikolai looked at me in confusion, hands tracing disbelievingly along the thick white bandage on his leg.
“You have enough healing arts to heal that. Or at least stop it killing you.” I managed not to spit the words. Just.
“Darren... Wha-?”
“I’m doing this for him, not you Nikolai. You don’t want to know how much I want you to die. You don’t want to know how good it will make me feel.”
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. Then another. I concentrated on my wards, raised them as a feeble wall against the darkness. When I opened my eyes again I knew they had returned to their midnight blue. The humming thrill of power had faded. I ached with loss.
“Go. Nikolai. Go home, don’t come back. Tell the rest of the clan to stay away. I’m not running anymore, and I don’t want to have to kill any more relatives.”
He hobbled to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall, his eyes never leaving me. He stumbled so slowly backwards.
I watched him go, a brutal civil war raging in my soul.
I was afraid.
I had lied. It had been true once, but no longer.
Killing relatives no longer bothered me.
Ahrimadan watched me without comment. His purr sounding loud in the silent flat.
Anyway, it seems the angst had come close to dropping a level or two. And there were loose ends, so here's a clear up fic to round off the current arc. It's not nice and fluffy, but the last two were(ish) so I'm due some angst, right?
Of course the effect of this is that everyone else is complaining that they're not getting nearly enough air time.
And I have to update my fic index in memories now.
I pulled us out, it was a long uphill struggle, pulling against the bonds Rhiannon had woven around my mind. It was difficult, but not impossible, it wasn’t Rhiannon’s best work. She had let her fear control her, so very unlike her. She also didn't understand the darkness in my mind, the darkness they had put there. She certainly hadn’t realised the power I had over it.
It helped that Rick was there. She hadn’t designed these weaves to keep him trapped inside. He didn’t belong in my mind. He confused her spell.
When I finally got us out, it was like pulling the cork out of a bottle. We seemed to shoot out and back to our bodies. It was disorientating to say the least. I lay as still as I could in the strange circle Rick had drawn on the floor, waiting for the dizziness to fade.
Next to me Rick collapsed. He had tried to stand up too soon. He was naked from the waist up, his body covered in strange smeared patterns. He was sweating like a marathon runner, his chest rising and falling like bellows. It must have taken powerful magic to plunge into the depths of my mind, even for a shaman, who calls his power from the spirits, it must have been a draining experience. It would be me having to look after him for the next few days. He’d earned it though.
There was a shadow over Rick. For a second I nearly panicked, for a second I thought the darkness had come back with us. Reality was slowly reasserting itself. A man stood over Rick. Taller than me, with long black hair and eyes the double of mine. Uncle Nikolai. What was the old shaman doing here?
My eyes widened to take in the scene. Nikolai had deep scratches in one arm that seemed to be festering badly. To my dark-sight they gleamed with a virulent emerald green, corrupted with daemonic power. The power was held in check, barely, but a ring of desperate life spirits, spurred on by a low rumbling chant my uncle managed to maintain without seeming to pause for breath or thought. One eye was kept warily on the ground to his left.
There crouched Ahrimadan, face twisted in feral menace, eyes gleaming with infernal anger. Glowing runes hovered over his fur, sizzling violently, trying to push themselves onto the cat’s skin. They couldn't close the gap, though I could almost feel the spirits within them screaming with effort. but Neither could my familiar’s throbbing power push them further back, or allow him to close any further with the shaman.
The shaman was moving away from the cat. He was walking slowly towards Rick. My lover was still desperately trying to stand, his arms shaking with the effort, sweat pouring out of him in fresh streams. His voice shook as he tried some invocation to summon his spirit allies. He was too weak. They couldn't hear his call, he couldn’t make himself heard over the power of the other shaman.
He was going to die.
Nikolai screamed, falling heavily to the floor. My power had lashed out against him almost before I'd had time to think about it. Not a skilled strike, or even a powerful one, just a burst of focused entropy. Pain burned along my tattoos, hot and quick knifing down to the very bones. It wasn’t enough, alone they weren’t enough. My wards had melted, or had I removed them for battle? It seemed so long ago. Whatever their fate, they were not here to restrain me.
I stood. I tried to make the movement graceful, but the stabbing pain in my ankles made me clumsy, awkward. It didn’t matter, Nikolai wasn't in a condition to critique. He was far more concerned with his own leg, with the flesh that had run and melted, reeking of putrefaction, blacked by rot. It formed a vile pool by his collapsed form. I could see bone through the gaping wound in his leg. I liked it.
“Are you going to beg for mercy?” I watched him, idly curious. Would he beg, or would his foolish pride keep him silent? I wondered if I could make him beg before the end. He must have a breaking point after all, it stood to reason.
“I will not beg, sorcerer! I will not!”
I shrugged. I should have known really. Pride was always the ruling force in the clan. I took a moment to lean over my poor Rick. I narrowed my dark-sight, checking him for injuries, breakages or some last lingering taint from my mind. Nothing. He was fine, tired, but fine. I smiled gently at him, kissing him on his forehead.
Then I turned back to my kinsman. “I suppose begging would be rather a waste of resources... After all, it’s not very likely to change my mind.” I leaned closer to him. I felt rich sparkling thrill as my power danced through my veins. I knew without looking that my dark blue eyes, identical to my uncle’s, had sank into a deep roiling black. I knew he could see that things lurked in the depths. And I could taste its fear.
It was delicious.
“Far better to save your breath for screaming with.”
The dark corona surrounded my hands, building, growing waxing. It begged to be used. It begged for release.
“Darren!” Rick! I spun, looking for some threat I’d missed. There was only Rick, panting on the floor. His eyes were wide and scared. They shone with... unshed tears?
“Please don’t. Please...” I stared at him. I didn’t understand. Don’t what? How could he beg for Nikolai’s life? The man deserved to die! I have earned the right to kill this creature.
I have earned the right to enjoy it.
“No Darren! You’ve won. He’s beat Darren, let it go.” Let him go?!
“Why?!” I couldn’t believe it, let him go? “He came here for me. He came to kill me. The hunter cannot whine when he dies on the stag’s antlers!”
“Shit Darren, you aren’t an animal! Don’t let them do this to you! Every time they come you get closer to becoming what they think you. Please Darren. Please.”
I didn’t understand. My heart cried for that last surge of power. Just a little power, just a little flow to release the soul from the body. It would have been so easy. He should die. I should kill him. I wanted it so badly that the very thought was nearly erotic. Sweet anticipation, glorious need I normally couldn’t find outside of Rick’s arms.
Rick’s arms... his pleading eyes. He shouldn't have to beg me. Not for anything.
I stalked angrily out of the room. With sharp, jerky movements I grabbed the first aid box from the bathroom. I froze Nikolai with an iron glare as I approached.
I wasn't gentle. I wasn’t a doctor, I had little skill at this. Besides, I wanted his pain. I wanted him to squirm and bite his lip. I wanted to see tears well in those eyes. But I did it. Every nerve screamed against it, but I did it.
Nikolai looked at me in confusion, hands tracing disbelievingly along the thick white bandage on his leg.
“You have enough healing arts to heal that. Or at least stop it killing you.” I managed not to spit the words. Just.
“Darren... Wha-?”
“I’m doing this for him, not you Nikolai. You don’t want to know how much I want you to die. You don’t want to know how good it will make me feel.”
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. Then another. I concentrated on my wards, raised them as a feeble wall against the darkness. When I opened my eyes again I knew they had returned to their midnight blue. The humming thrill of power had faded. I ached with loss.
“Go. Nikolai. Go home, don’t come back. Tell the rest of the clan to stay away. I’m not running anymore, and I don’t want to have to kill any more relatives.”
He hobbled to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall, his eyes never leaving me. He stumbled so slowly backwards.
I watched him go, a brutal civil war raging in my soul.
I was afraid.
I had lied. It had been true once, but no longer.
Killing relatives no longer bothered me.
Ahrimadan watched me without comment. His purr sounding loud in the silent flat.
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(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-11 03:11 am (UTC)That seems to wrap things up nicely.
I'm not too clear on what was happening with Ahriman and the Shaman. they attacked eachother?
(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-11 05:24 pm (UTC)I need to make that clear...
Basically Nikolai HAD arranged this to do away with Rick (and make sure Darren didn't wake up). He had expected Rick to die the minute he went into Darren's mind (a likely outcome). When Rick survived, he went for a knife and wanted to take advantage of their prone bodies.
Ahrimadan wasn't overly supportive of this idea and raised his objections...
(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-12 01:04 am (UTC)it probabaly was clear but I was half asleep when i read it. My bad. But reading it again it makes more sense now. It was subtle. Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-12 10:28 pm (UTC)I will tighten it up in a "post match reconstruction" kind of fic, people reviewing and building up their lives again.