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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 3, 2005 0:05:52 GMT -5
The wind was a strong one today, and happy was the crew of the Crimson Dawn as the clipper crashed over the choppy waves of the South Ocean at full sail. The sailors shouted orders to one another and made busy hoisting more sails and retying the rigging, order of the captain. Though he had seemed off his game lately, talking about the storm that was closing in when there wasn't a cloud even visible in the sky. But when you worked for a man like Theoren Roullier, you let him tell you the sky was pink with purple spots if he wanted to because to question meant death, loyalty meant a paycheck.
So the crew did not question when he did not tell them their destination as he usually did. Silently the man of so many legends had taken the helm of the boat with a confidence and a seriousness they had not seen from him in many a year. With a compass in one hand and a rolled up map in his back pocket the red haired man of myth was standing on the bridge, hands on the helm of the fastest ship on the sea with his eyes cast forwards to something on the horizon, they knew not what just yet.
"What ya think he's got on his mind today? No smiles and all business." A sailor called out to another. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know about it." His friend replied. "Any worry that could trouble a man like the captain ain't nothin' I want to wrap my head around."
They had no idea what worried their captain. Theoren's brow remained furrowed as his eyes searched the line where sea met sky with an intensity he rarely showed. His insanity had reached its limits lately, as had his ruthlessness. Already he had killed in cold blood three of his own men, though the others dared not talk of mutiny. It was almost like Captain Roullier was not himself, a walking shell with something else living in it, and always carrying around that old sea satchel wherever he went, sleeping with a pistol in his hand, if he slept at all. Or ate for that matter. It was almost if he was becoming less... human. If they only knew.
Their speculations were not that far off. He had won several inner battles, but he was losing the war. The three sides of him were constantly in turmoil and hopelessly deadlocked as they vyed for power over him, and over the most precious cargo that rested in that satchel. The fate of the world as they all knew it was in that satchel, and depending on who won the body of Theoren Roullier would determine what that fate was to be. The Phoenix would take the stones for itself, consuming Theoren's consciousness and using him to take over the countries he already had a hold on, seeking a means to free itself and wreak its evil on the world of Ayenee. Maedryn the once former Angel would use the stones to make himself a king on earth, a means of revenge towards a God he felt had not only neglected but willingly abandoned him to an eternity of torture unjustly. Theoren would simply see himself go home, to Jacqui, to Madeline, and damn the consequences for everyone else.
Three wills. There could be only one outcome, and to the moment Theoren had no idea which one would in the end take control. All he knew was that the course that lay ahead of them now would be the hardest decision he would ever have to make, now and for the rest of eternity. His last words to the Queen of Ulster whispered over his mind as he bit his bottom lip, closing his eyes. Next eternity. Oh god, if only he could press the reset button and forget this whole mess. But he couldn't. He couldn't dwell on the notion... not when so much lay before them now and so much was at stake.
Spinning on his heels the well dressed pirate addressed his crew in a sharp and projected voice. "T'ree more sails on the mizzenmast, I don' care if it can't hold. We can't lose any more time! Hoist 'em up 'an release th' maintop." he barked to the scurrying seadogs below him on the spardeck. He stood glowering down in a black sailor's tunic and pants as the fabric clung to one side of him, flaying in the wind. His boots clicked on the wood of the bridge floor as he turned again to stare out at the horizon, one hand on his satchel and in the other a telescope.
Red hair whipped about his stoic face as he raised the brass instrument to his eye. It was out there. He would find it. He had to, for it was already predestined. It this was to be his end, it would be an end that would rewrite history. He would make sure of it.
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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 10, 2005 23:59:19 GMT -5
Two days had passed by slowly. The men had gone about their duties maintaining the ship as they always did and only making their adjustments when the Captain said to. It was however, anything but a normal ride on the Crimson Dawn. When the crew set out on any normal day there was laugher, spoils, hearty drinking, and the Captain was always right in the thick of things making merry as if he were no more than a common piece of sailing sludge just like the rest of them. That's what made them love him so, his willingness to lay down his pride for them, his charm and intuition, and the way he always got them out of a jam wealthier than they had been when they got into it. Theoren Roullier was the pirate to end all pirates, and there was not a man on the Crimson Dawn that did not aspire to be him.
But things were different this time around. The ship was full of ghosts and not a single sailor dared raise a bottle to parched lips. The rigging was handled in silence unless shouts were needed, and the Captain was behaving most strangely. He had fortified himself at the bow of the ship, camping day and night there at the horizon just staring out into the nothingness beyond the sea line looking for something that wasn't there. Once a day he took food in his quarters but it remained untouched even when he retired there to eat it. But no one dared whisper that he was crazy. They would not think of it, for the seriousness in which he conducted himself told them he was far from insane. Something about this quest seemed... forboding... yet they did not know why.
Theoren Roullier had a plan in his head. It was not a good plan, nor was it any semblence of a working plan. His plan had been get the stones and find Madripoor. Finding Madripoor was where the plan ended, though he knew there was a little more to it than just getting to the island. And they were running out of time. Eyes lifted up to the stars beyond him in the black velvet sky. Not a cloud out there tonight, the navigation would be easy from here to make it to his first destination. What tyrranous beings, he thought to himself, guiding and fortelling destinies as though they had influence. If could have spit on them, he would have.
He tried to disregard the time when he used to fly among them, through them, feeling the white hot burn tingle over his wings and skin like an aromatic bath of the breath of Creation itself. Eyes closed and his head turned from the skyscape involuntarily, as if the memory actually had the power to wound him, his face wincing in some kind of despair. In his mind, or what was left of it that he could still access and control he sent out a soft message to Michael, doubting if he could even hear. I'm sorry, Michael. I know you believe in redemption, but it is already too late for that now. Do not come for me. I would never forgive myself for what I would do.
It was a not so fond fairwell. Theoren knew full well that from here on out there were no more rules. It was him and the parasite, one against the other and the outcome was no longer so easily determined. He did not know what would happen if the Phoenix gained control before he was able to set the stones. Moreover, he did not know what would happen if it didn't, either. The pain caused a lump to well in his throat, a hard knot that ached against the muscles of his trachea.
He had betrayed so many. The Guild members to distract the cities and forge alliances to facilitate acquiring the Sapphire from the vault in Ayenee City's catacombs far beneath the streets of the port town... Amariette and Daniel to steal the Amythest- a man's family rememberance and a woman's engagement gift. Amariette had been tricked into following the poor downtrodden Fallen into Hell itself for the Ruby. And poor Aeron... he hadn't really lied to her when he had convinced her to hand over the Emerald that kept her entire kind from ruin. His family was the least of the problem, and would she really understand the kind of peril this world was in if he tried explaining it? Lastly the Diamond... he had stolen the only gift given by a dead husband to a woman he cared for so deeply. Little white lies did great harm when they came from that silver coated tongue.
And yet... how superfulous were all of these things when Theoren thought back at what he knew of this world. The things he had seen beyond the ring of the Astral Veils, the House of God, the very edge of creation itself... their toils were nothing compared to what would be destroyed if he allowed the balance to tip.
And what of the most grand betrayal of all? None of them knew what it meant to be abandoned by God. No mortal love, no carnal emotion, and no material thing could ever amount to the bond between God and His creation. The entire created world could disappear and a soul would get by as long as that connection thrived. Theoren's had been cut, unjustly severed and neglected by the Almighty Himself for a crime he never committed. And what made it unlivable... the more he yearned with ever fiber of his celestial being for revenge, all the more so he yearned for forgiveness.
Yet it never came, and so if this last act of boldness to get the attention he justly deserved for all of these years of torture, for the price he paid of having his very soul maimed at the core, then he would do it. Defiantly his chin tipped up for one last glance at the stars as dusky wisps of dark fog began to roll in about the ship. Through the clouds around him he could see a faint shape, dark and jagged that made hard lines against the dull gray backdrop of the night fog. "Unguja..." He whispered. They had made it at last to Dead Man's Island.
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jan 11, 2005 22:18:20 GMT -5
To her dismay she had let Theoren Roullier get a three day lead on her. Striding confidently across the deck toward the prow of the boat, Kahlan stares off into oblivion. The wind beats at her form, tears at her hair, claws at her flesh as if warning her of what is to come...pleading with her to stay behind.
Locked into what feels more like a spiraling vortex, Kahlan clenches her fingers into a tight fist and kneads the flesh of her knee beneath the tan breeches. Behind her a pirates crew watches and vaguely assesses the High Queen as she looks more like an ornament on the deck than a passenger. After a few moments longer Kahlan touches her throat with her fingertips. She didnt know where she was going, or what she was going to do when she got there.
Theo's essence was strong but strange, almost foreign. Turning quickly, Kahlan storms through a group of men that had been watching her and up to the wheel where a striking woman stands. "Jezibelle, maintain the course. My quarry is set in its course thus far." No one questioned Kahlan's frequent visits to the prow of the boat nor her unerring navigation.
Climbing down to the deck again, Kahlan raises an eyebrow at everyone thats watching her. "Well? Back to work, your captain wont like me breathing down her neck and you definately wont like her breathing down yours." The edge in her voice is unmistakable as she snatches up a rope and begins to climb up the main mast and into the rigging. It was as if she had grown up on a ship, her balance was unwavering and she looked perfectly confident. Sitting amidst some ropes and things, precariously perched, Kahlan stares off into space once again. Her attention is turned upward rather than toward the horizon this time.
Michael... The word is breathed but seems to echo stagnantly in the air. It was as if she had said the word on two different wavelengths. Or possibly in two different planes. Help me old friend. I have lost something dear to me and I fear for the worst. Michael would not respond verbally, he could not converse with the fallen, but perhaps those that were wrongly accused?
Taking a deep whiff of the salty sea air brings Kahlan back from what almost feels like purgatory. Dragging her senses back to where they should be, Kahlan glances down at the goingson beneath her. With her out of the picture, obscured by a rolled up sail, everything runs smoothly with Jezibelle at the helm. Kahlan had known that one day that Englishmans daughter would become handy to her, she just hadnt known how. Ah that had been years ago? So many though by the looks of Jezibelle whom had to be at least 26 years of age. Kahlan had known the girl at birth. The sea had done for the scared little girl she once knew, that life in an English Court would never have done. The girl was now a confidant woman.
Inwardly Kahlan ponders whether or not shes thinking of Jezibelle or herself. How long had she lived now? Too long to remember accurately though she was blessed to remember some of her time with Him. It was the rest that was either hazy or far to painful to remember. To think, she should be up there with Him now, a simple error and her obstinance kept her in this purgatorial hell called earth. Reality. Earth. Reality. Ugh it was something the human mortals used to justify their existance and frankly sometimes human mortals got on her nerves. There were an express few that Kahlan would remember despite the years that would file by after their deaths (if she were so lucky to stay as long as this in their Reality). Daniel and Amariette, Shaine, Aerillia, and a sprinkling of others that had maintained her trust with unflinching ease.
Now though she was on a journey with no clear end. She just hoped that the end was not her own or her quarry's. If that were the case, Kahlan couldnt promise that sanity would be her best attribute.
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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 14, 2005 19:42:10 GMT -5
The gray clouds of fog rolled back like curtains opening on a stage of sea and rock before the bow of the Crimson Dawn. The sight before the majestic boat made Theoren Roullier catch his breath. Dead Man's Isle wasn't named on a whim. The jagged lines of the rock face glared at him from just beyond the layers of fog, the open mouth of a cave yawning like the maw of some horrible creature, stalactite teeth barely visible through the eerie sheen. For a moment he had almost lost his nerve, not even knowing what he was doing here. He had heard tales of those that had gone to Unguja before. Being left there was a nearly sure death sentence, and there was nothing worth your neck on the whole god-forsaken spit of rock in the first place. It even stunk of death, the spine tingling smell laying like a blanket over the wet fog itself a fermenting smell that drove the color from the bold captain's cheeks.
The slight pang of fear must have been a trigger, for a moment later he felt himself catch air in his throat, a panic as he began to wane in consciousness, only to be revived a split second later. But all was not well, for it was no longer Theoren's privilege to control his movements. The parasite had used his moment of weakness to take seize power.
The crew watched as their captain faltered and gripped the railing of the bow and buckled in the knees. Cautiously moving forwards his first mate probed, "Captain... are you all right?" The voice that responded was hollow and metallic and disquieting in its regularity. "I am fine." Once caramel eyes were now dark and all consumed by pupil as the fire-haired man stood up and flexed his fingers, enjoying the new found feeling he got when blood was pushed through the digits. The first mate backed up a few steps even more hesitantly before, but said nothing, for he was not a fool.
Clap clap clap went the sound of boots hitting deck, a purposeful stride as the captain made his way to the rowboat his men had prepared. Closing Its eyes the entity within took a long breath in through its vessel's nose. Excellent. Its calculations had been precise. It stepped into the smaller boat and waited in silence to be rowed ashore. The shallows were not hard to cross and a rock beach was in fact what they found through the heavy fog beyond the Dawn. The first mate looked towards the hungry blackness of the cave mouth, a chill running straight up his spine.
"Captain... with all due respect, I've heard tales of this place... ain't a soul left livin' on it... just ghosts an' death." The man's voice cracked midway through his sentence. "I don't know what you're meanin' to find here Captain, but this might be a mistake." The captain only first responded with a wry upturn of one corner of his mouth. "On the contrary." replied the almost robotic and resonating voice in its same cool tone. "I expect to find exactly what I'm looking for here."
He stepped off the boat and closed his eyes again. It was feeling the island. Power drifted out psionically like arms with grasping hands on them feeling blindly in the darkness of the mind, groping for what was sought. Ah, there he was! Eyes of obsidian opened once more as the voice spoke though it was Theoren's lips that moved. "Fan out in this area and keep watch. Do not leave until I come back." This mission would be done alone. This matter was personal. One foot led the other as Theoren's body moved forwards through the fog towards the mouth of the cave. The men watched in shock and some with horror as their captain disappeared into the thick gray leaving them enveloped in a sightless haze between the sea and certain death.
The cave was unlit save for one flicking orange light to the far back, down through the gullet of the rock and into the bowels of the a-curse'd island. It was like a beacon drawing It in. All too easy, It thought as it neared the campfire blazing before It. On the wall hung pelts of the hogs that lived on the island, some on the floor, and hunched over the flames shivering was a haggard old man. Mostly bald with a white beard stained yellow and brown with age and filth he sat in rags on his haunches poking at the fire with a short stick. At the clacking of boots echoing throughout the cave the man looked up, fear evident in dark brown eyes as he searched the blackness in vain.
"Who's there?" his aged voice quivered. The parasite took a few steps into the light, the shadow of Theoren's imposing form leaping up against the cave wall, dancing with the firelight. "Hello Marc." It said in a sickeningly sweet tone. "Did you think you could hide from me forever?" Eyes went wide as the old man shuffled back on his hands and feet like a crab. "Theoren..." He breathed, but then he caught sight of the pupils, the darkness in the younger man's eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my grandson?"
It was nearly impossible to see him move. The blur of red hair, the flash of blue and gold as the firelight struck the tattoo and a haze of flesh as two hands gripped the tattered remains of Marc Roullier's shirt and picked him up off the ground with inhuman strength. "I'm surprised you don't recognize me, Marc Roullier." Hissed the metallic voice, taking on a new edge of malice. " But then again, I'm sure a century of exile would be very bad for one's memory." It curled Its lip in a frightful display of deviance. "It has only been a century and a half, hasn't it? Doesn't seem so long until you get stuck here, does it?" The elder Roullier's eyes watered in fear as he recognized the voice, the sightless black eyes staring at him. "My god..." he breathed, his hands going limp and uncurling in shock by his sides, "What has Jacques done?"
"God!" Choked the Phoenix, "God can't help you now, old man. God can't even hear you anymore. Not that He's ever helped you. He certainly didn't help you when you were condemned to die here, did He?" The sneer it gave was ugly but so fitting to its name. "Actually it's rather ironic, isn't it? You getting imprisoned here for the rest of your life just as you imprisoned me on this wretched plane of existance. I do believe this is some kind of poetic justice, don't you, Roullier?"
Marc's eyes searched the familiar face of his kin. "Theoren, I know you are in there and I know you can hear me. Fight it, boy." The grip tightened as one hand let go of the shirt and reached behind Theoren's body. "He can't help you either, Roullier. No one can. Not your Guild, not your precious elixir, not your family and not your God." The hand reappeared with a serrated blade clasped firmly within its fingers and a wicked smile crossed over Its face as the fire made shadows play over the evil grimace looking at Marc Roullier with a hunger like no other. "I've been waiting for this for over a hundred and fifty years..."
The screams that erupted from the cave startled the crewmen on the land and several jumped to their feet. They looked to each other in fear, a feeling they were not used to. Their captain's judgment had been in question from the moment he took them on a course to Unguja, and now they knew that feeling they had gotten was validated. "Let's get out of here..." one said to the others, who would have agreed had it not been for the hand of the first mate that motioned for them to stay sitting.”We're waiting for the captain." The men looked at him incredulously. "He's probably dead, an' even if he isn't we'll all be dead if we don't go now!" The sailor protested. The first mate's countenance darkened as he looked at the sailors. "And that is a preferable fate to the one we'll all receive when he catches up to us."
There was no arguing with that and all of the men showed recognition as they sank down, not sure what to fear now, the death sentence that Unguja offered them or the far less pleasant torture they would receive at the hands of Theoren if they mutinied. They didn't have long to toil over the decision before it became moot, as Theoren was seen walking through the fog calmly, coolly, covered up to his elbows in blood. Human blood. The dagger in his hand was carelessly tossed aside and was sent clanking down the rock shore and into the waves below, swallowed whole. "Let's go, gentlemen." As if nothing had happened at all. "We're going to Madripoor."
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jan 14, 2005 21:27:37 GMT -5
A day and a half behind...? The thought causes Kahlan to frown. The Dawn was as fast a ship as ever sailed, yet by the feeling of it the Jasper had made a heady gain on the ship, but why?
In the distance a mist shrouded island branded the horizon. The place emitted death that even Kahlan, seasoned as she was, blanched slightly at the feeling it created deep inside her. The edge in Kahlan's voice is unmistakable as she paces, Jezibelle at her side keeping stride despite difficulty. "We must stop by that island." When Jezibelle falters and stumbles, Kahlan turns to look at her questioningly.
"Kahlan, excuse me for questioning your motive, but no one walks alive on Dead Man's Isle." Almost imperceptibly Kahlan's features hardened. Is this why that island reeked of mishap, death, and dismay? The look in Kahlan's eyes were enough to convince Jezibelle that, if she did not indeed comply, hell would reign freely on the deck of the Jasper.
All eyes were anywhere but the Island as they drew closer. By the time they had made it they were off course (but not entirely so), by two hours at most. When they come in close proximity to the island the mist folds back and Kahlan has to keep herself from showing any emotion though it roils inside her, twisted and malformed, as if trying to eat away at her soul. The island was shrouded in mist and begged to tell its horrific story. This would be one story Kahlan would never dare sit through. It would, in all sense of the word, cause her to die though mayhap not literally.
As the rowboat paddled through the stagnant water, Kahlan peers down into the water. In places green slime covers the surface of the water so that the oars become coated with the stench of decay. By God above, how have I come to this place? As wood grates against stone, Kahlan leaps out of the boat while being careful not to touch the water. The three that had been sent with her stay in the boat as she strides up into the mist. As the mist gives way Kahlan pulls the cloak tighter around herself almost involuntarily.
Before her the inky depths of a cavern gaped open like the mouth of a man who has died of a miserable disease. Frozen for a moment, Kahlan stares at the cavern. Something was wrong, different, out of place. It took but a moment for her sight to find the misshapen corpse near the mouth of the cave. It had been drug there by god only knew what. Inhaling slightly against the suddeness of that image and knowing by the look of the carcass even from afar that it was relatively fresh, Kahlan turns on her heels and hurries back to the rowboat. Her hurry is not minded by the three men with her, they help her in and then Kahlan frowns. Reaching down into the murky water as the boat pushed off, she retracts a knife and nearly drops it back in when she realizes whom it belongs to.
Are you even with me anymore Theo? She knew what she meant even if no one else did. Thankfully no one here could read minds. When she arrived back at the boat she instructed Jezibelle where to go before going below with the knife. Just what would she find when this journey ended?
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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 22, 2005 0:31:24 GMT -5
(OOCly: Thanks for the help Jade!)
Madripoor. One of the most beautiful and most legendary islands of Ayenee. It was hard to believe they had finally made it. The crew looked on in amazement as the lost island of jungle and myth loomed before them daring them to test its secrets. On board the Crimson Dawn only one man did not looked awed or surprised. The captain's lips were upturned in a wry grin. His eyes, still shrouded in blackness from his pupils did not even look over to the first mate that stood in silent reverence beside him. "Don't look so cautious, boy. You're about to take part in what history will write about as the day that changed the world. At least try to look like you know what you're doing." the hollow voice almost chuckled at the younger man before Theoren's body stepped off the bridge towards the rowboats waiting to go ashore.
It was beautiful, just as the tales spoke of it... but the beauty was a mask. On the thick humid air there was a strange lingering smell that one could not quite put their finger on. It was a foreboding feeling as boots hit the sand just beyond the mouth of the cave. Around the edges of the rock were elegant carvings and inset motifs warning the cautious traveler to beware what lay ahead. The Phoenix took little notice of these signs and began striding for the mouth of the cave confidently. It was the shaking voice of his first mate that stayed his feet.
"Captain... is this really... wise?"
Theoren's eyes flashed an eerie dark red as he turned, sightless pupils fixing on the man who dared speak to him and question his judgment. "My boy, you have so much to learn. I would not waste this opportunity. You see, some are born great, others achieve greatness... and then some rip it from the very hand of God Himself."*. The sneer was ugly in its evil manner as a hand balled into a fist, effectively crushing the very air itself. The First Mate took a step back, shaken by the look on Theoren's face as the entity turned the body around and once more headed for the cave, only two souls brave enough to follow.
The Phoenix was far from foolish. Traps were likely to be abound. He nearly danced over the floor tiles, feet shuffling around the loose ones so as not to trigger the pit traps the entity knew lay below them. On of his minions was fool enough to step on one of the pressured plates. Immediately there was the sound of grating stone and It turned just in time to see the man swallowed up into a pit, a sickening sound of flesh being torn following a split second later. Looking into the pit it was plain to see the man had fallen onto a set of spikes and was now twitching, impaled, and bleeding from several punctures. The Phoenix clucked its tongue and shook its head. What a pity.
Eyes were wide open watching for more of the same, the lone man following along behind a little too closely now. It would be his downfall. The vine stretched across the floor of the corridor did not go unnoticed by the Phoenix. It stepped lithely over the wire naught but an inch from the stone floor. The minion was not so perceptive. As the wire was tripped the Phoenix felt a whoosh go by a few centimeters from its head as a stone block shot out from the wall and slammed into the opposing one. He didn't even have to look back to know that the crewman had been in the way. See one crushed skull you've seen them all, It thought with a shrug and continued to saunter, hands in pockets, down the hallway.
What came next was actually surprising. The Phoenix had expected to find the guardian to the Altar Chamber, and defeating that one would have been no simple task. However, what now lay before him was perhaps more difficult in its own way as the entity felt the remains of its host stirring inside the body. "The mighty Archangel Michael himself." the entity was rather blasé, it's metallic and robotic sounding voice echoing along the stone corridor. "What a terribly unpleasant surprise.".
There before him, blocking the path, was Michael, his flaming sword's light dancing along the walls, one booted foot standing on top of the body of the Guardian. The solemn look on his ageless face made it obvious the attitude this entity was taking with him was not appreciated in the slightest. His form drew up to its massive full height of six and a half feet tall, the broad shouldered angel raised his chin in pride and challenge towards the creature before him. "I suppose I should thank you. It seems you've already done part of my job." the Phoenix grinned an awful grin and folded arms over Theoren's chest, eyeing Michael with some interest. "Though I do believe Maedryn warned you not to come before I was able to take control. Not very good at listening, I see. It doesn't matter, however. Maedryn is mine, his body, his unique physiology... he was a wonderful find, wasn't he? I don't think I'll be giving him up in the near future."
Michael's countenance darkened as he straightened, anger flashing across his crystal colored eyes at the mockery the entity had made of his former protégé. Drawing the sword in front of him he let the tip meet the stone with a small clink, staring the Phoenix down before beginning to speak. "I command you this day, love the Lord and his servants, walk in His ways so that the Lord may bless you. If your heart turns away and you give no heed, I declare to you this day that you shall perish. I call Heaven and Earth to witness against you; I have put before you the choice of life and death."**
The Phoenix began to laugh. "What a pretty formal ultimatum!" It cried, "But the question remains, Michael, who exactly were you talking to?" the cruel laughter in Its eyes was nearly audible. "You seek to kill me, but how far will you go? Would you strike down your own student? Your foster son?" Michael's eyes did not even blink. He did not enjoy being baited.
"If my hand is forced."
The chuckles did not stop as the Phoenix took two daring steps forwards so that Theoren's familiar face was illuminated by the flickering of the sword's flames. "And you expect Heaven to aid you in the redeeming of this Fallen?" Michael's eyes flashed again.
It is not in heaven, that thou shouldest say: 'Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it unto us, and make us to hear it, that we may do it?', Neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest say: 'Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it unto us, and make us to hear it, that we may do it?' But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it."*** Michael's eyes never left the man before him, sword still at the ready, and unmoving as though he were made of stone. The Phoenix almost took a step back. Now he knew who Michael was talking to. The words that reached the ears of the entity next were slow and deliberate and wholly disquieting. "Release him."
The shock did not last long. Gritting Its teeth the Phoenix wrapped Its lips into another foul sneer, a hand twisting forwards with fingers splayed as the fire from Michael's sword began winding and writhing like a charmed serpent up the blade and then, in a snap of light shot across the divide between the two planataers and into the hand of the dark entity. With a sickening smile fingers closed around the ball of flames, Its palm swallowing the fire and extinguishing its force with ease. "Come and claim him."
There was a blur of white and silver as the sword lifted from the ground and Michael charged with speed unmeasured towards the entity, intent on slaying both host and Phoenix if he had to in order to complete the charge he had been given. He had not been ready to face the firebird at its full strength, however, and did not know the extent to which its restraints had been released, so when suddenly Theoren's body shimmered and Michael passed straight through it, it came as a small and fatal surprise. Whirling on it's heels the intangible entity became solid once more, catching Michael by the wrist, eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
There was an explosion as fire leapt forth from Theoren's fingertips towards the archangel. Michael twisted in the grasp of the unholy thing and managed to dodge most of the flame spurt and stumbled backwards as the figure shimmered and suddenly disappeared from sight. "Quite light on your feet, Michael, but tell me, can you fight what you can't see?" Michael clutched the sword and tried to back up towards the wall. He could not stand a chance in this corporeal form against the beast with its restraints loosed. The only thing he could hope to do would be to lure it into the celestial realm so he could...
His thoughts were cut off as a pain shot through his back and Theoren reappeared behind him, a hand gripping his shoulder and the other twisting a small blade around in the small of Michael's back. The cry as Michael sank to his knees was pitiful indeed. "God can't hear you anymore, Michael. Please do us all a favor and die. You are getting to be an annoyance." Michael rolled over as a booted foot kicked him sharply in the temple, then again in the ribs, leaving him face down on the stone floor, silvery blood seeping between the cracks in the tiles.
The Phoenix was already gone, striding down the hall towards the door at the end of the corridor. A hand reached out and pushed in on the stone trigger that made the door swing freely open. There before Theoren and the Phoenix both was the altar chamber.
*Shakespeare anyone? **Dt. 30:19 ***Dt. 30:12
-Jade
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jan 22, 2005 14:34:16 GMT -5
The gap had closed so quickly that it almost boggled Kahlan's mind. She was above deck again, having spent most of the two days below with the knife. Twirling it, letting the light glance off of it...cleaning it. Now she held the knife in her hands again, standing resolutely next to Jezibelle at the helm.
"We are close--" Yet before Kahlan can finish her sentence she frowns as, what can only be described as an island, appears on the horizon. It felt like a beacon. It called to her: Maedryn called to her. At least what she hoped to find was Maedryn, thus far she had found only despair in his wake. Despair...
"Kahlan..?" The sound of her name tears her from her reverie and she looks to Jezibelle. "The Island? Is that where you want to be?" A simple nod tells Jezibelle what she wants to know, and that her journey is almost at an end. An hour passes before they are close enough to the island to send a boat out. Again only two people would accompany Kahlan, but they would be leaving her and waiting back on the ship.
The island was breathtaking and the heat of the sun as it bore down on the water and sand had long ago caused Kahlan to rid herself of her heavy cloak. Clad in a pair of fitting tan breeches, tall black boots, and a sleeveless white shirt, Kahlan looks the epitome of a Salior. With her hair bound back in a braid the woman looks serious, lethal, and not a little intimidating and so the boat ride to the island was one of silence. The only sound that floated on the breeze was the consistent splash of the oars into the clear sea water.
When the small boat finally made it to shore the sound of wood grated heavily on the sand. Denying the helping hands of the two men Kahlan jumps out of the boat and into the water. The splash of her feet kicks up a spray of sea water so that it catches the sun, and for just a moment she appears to be surrounded by a cascade of gems. For a short time longer Kahlan watches as the men row back toward the ship before the thumping of her heart causes her to turn toward yet another cave.
This time she knew she wouldnt be able to turn away. Her steps are quick as her feet find purchase on the wayward sand. The closer she came to the cave the more forbidden it felt. Distantly she ponders if Eve felt such as this when she met the serpent. The Devil. As quickly as the beach had come, so did the Jungle. A quick trot through a few trees brings her to the mouth of the Cave. Once there, Kahlan turns to look back at the ship that was waiting for her when a the softest hint of a moan causes her to turn back.
"Maedryn?" To her dismay her voice came out little better than a whisper. Taking a tentative step forward into the inky darkness of the cave, Kahlan narrows her eyes trying to see inside. She could hear a grunt, as if some sort of pain had been inflicted, and then a shuffle. What stumbled out in front of her and stops a hairsbreath away from her face absolutely shocks her.
"Michael?" Her breath catches in her throat and for a moment she wonders if she will ever catch it again. The arch angel looks up so that he stares right into Kahlan's eyes and reaches up with his free hand (the other still holding his sword) to touch Kahlan's face before sliding down to sit against the wall. She saw the pain in his eyes and it hurt her. "Oh Michael, you're hurt!" Who would do such a thing?
"Iolair...is that you? Its been so long..." His deep voice resonates around Kahlan and she sinks to her knees before him. "Too long..." He whispers to her before reaching out to touch her again. She too was one of the fallen, ah but wasnt she one of the first to go? If anything her beauty had not been lessened by her time on earth.
"Michael. Wh..who did this to you?" She could feel the tremor in her voice and cursed herself that her voice could betray her emotion so much. It was Kahlan's turn to reach out and touch Michael's face before drawing him into a hug. Michael and Iolair had been close so long ago, friends as far as the word could go between Angels. When she pulls back, Kahlan's hand trembles when she sees his blood on her fingertips. It hurt her to see Michael like this and he could see it deep in her eyes.
"Help me back to the altar room. Maedryn's abomination. I underestimated how much it had been loosed." The Phoenix entity had done this to Michael? If that were the case, Kahlan knew that it would be the Phoenix she faced and not Maedryn. The entity did not like Kahlan, it knew her age and some of her power. It knew as many things about Kahlan as Kahlan knew about it.
Reaching down to grab Michael under the shoulders, Kahlan hefts him to his feet with a little help from him. She watches as his fist tightens around the hilt of his sword and she is glad that it is not she that he wishes to exact vengence on. Yet, Maedryn was the puppet in all of this. If mourning were to be done, Maedryn should recieve the most. He, after all, had lost the most. Anticipation brewed in her belly as Kahlan aided Micheal toward the room in question, her hand wet with his blood. In places the floor of the cave was stained with blood, and when they passed the pit and Kahlan peered inside she did little more than blink. Death followed in his wake.
Michael noticed that as they drew nearer to their goal, Kahlan grew quieter. The well of power within her was great and she would have made a wonderful angel had she not fallen. He could see the pain in her eyes and in so many ways he wished he could erase it but he knew he couldnt. It was for Him to decide, not Michael. Besides she had a daughter to live for now.
[glow=green,2,300]"Yes I do Michael. Its nice to know you check up on me from time to time."[/glow] So this was the Iolair that took a piece of Heaven with her when she had fallen. Michael could only smile, but it was brief as they drew near to the Altar room door. He turned to Kahlan and grasped her shoulders and saw that her eyes were bordering on a blueish silver and he wondered just how many humans had lost themselves in her eyes. "Listen to me Iolair. Whatever may happen in here, do not despair. He is always with you and He loves you even now." When she doesnt reply he shakes her, grimacing in his own pain. "LISTEN Iolair! Promise me. DO it!"
The urgency in his voice, brings Iolair out of her reverie and she nods. [glow=green,2,300]"For you Michael, I would promise anything."[/glow] And yet, deep down she wondered just what she had promised.
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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 22, 2005 19:33:18 GMT -5
Michael struggled to stand. For all the dignity his position gave him, he felt he had to maintain it the most right now. "It was weakness." He uttered as they moved slowly towards the altar door. "I knew what he really was inside, but I didn't... want to see it. I saw Maedryn. I.." He trailed off, not needing to explain the bond that had formed between mentor and student to one such as Iolair. She understood quite well that Michael has purposefully flubbed the attack. And now, because of his weakness for his former protégé the very world itself could be in danger. "No matter what happens, Iolair, do not touch him. It is my charge to destroy him if he chooses destruction. Do not risk yourself." He paused a moment and looked at her with a strained but knowing expression. "Maedryn wouldn't want you to put yourself in harm's way."
Michael did not think the idea of Iolair following him had even crossed Maedryn's mind. What folly the young one acted in some times, to think such an angel as Iolair would not be able to find him. He had stayed on the mortal plane for far too long, Michael supposed. Theoren Roullier could disappear any time he wanted to, but Maedryn could not. Someone... would always know where he was. What Maedryn had truly underestimated, however, was Iolair's feelings for him. He was much younger, true, but Maedryn had a way about him, a magnetic pull that Michael had always seen within him. Even on his worst days, it was hard not to smile at him, hard to be angry with him... and for someone like Iolair... hard not to love him.
A hand rested on Michael's back where the silver blood leaked slower now out of the wound the Phoenix had given him, the other clenched tight around his sword. Michael did not give speeches often, did not overly praise the Lord unless he felt it necessary. He spoke to Maedryn of redemption because in his age and foresight, he knew Maedryn's troubles, grave as they were, could be resolved. Maedryn did not fall of his own doing. He fell because of Jacques, and that is why Michael encouraged him to hold on. But Michael's position among the armies of the Host was that of the Archangel of War. Many more of his disputes were settled with a steel blade than with his words. Collapsing back against the wall he flattened up and brought his sword to his chest, motioning for Iolair to move to the other side of the open door, and began to count to three...
Meanwhile inside the altar room the body of Theoren Roullier made its way to the stones in the center of the small chamber. There was a pedestal, the relief carvings completely in Enochian. His fingers traced over them as the Phoenix nearly shuddered from the surge of power he felt wafting in this place like pulsations of a beating heart. "This is true power, Maedryn. Do you see? This is what you were born for... this is destiny my friend... our destiny.. The lack of inner response from Maedryn was comforting. He was surely suppressed to the point where he had no control over his own functions any longer. Black dilated eyes traveled over the carvings and the inlays for the stones, then up to the murals on the walls; they were pictures of the stones, when they were used... there was a particularly striking painting of a great golden city cracking in half with a bolt from the heavens and sinking into the sea.
These stones were so powerful they had caused the fall of Atlantis. The Phoenix looked over the murals, feeling saliva build in the mouth of its host. This kind of power... was... unthinkable. Turning back to the altar with renewed vigilance the satchel was removed from the shoulder of the sea-dog and a hand reached inside. The first stone, the Sapphire, was placed in the blue cradle marked with the symbol for water. There was a whirring and the stone lit up sending a shower of blue sparkles cascading over the entire room as wavy blue light lit the chamber. It looked like water all around him! The Phoenix marveled, trying to touch the sparkles, but to no avail. The energy was completely intangible.
The next stone was the Amethyst, the air stone. So that's how these stones worked... they brought together all of the powers of the elements and then tapped them with a focus crystal that allowed the wielder full access to their resource. Purple shimmers and wavy lines of breezy violet added themselves to the dancing blue. The Ruby was placed next, the stone of Fire and a cacophony of red joined the other colors, mixing in such a way that became almost too dazzling to look at. The Phoenix could feel its heart racing, the beating of the energy in this place moving faster with up tempo as the Emerald was removed and placed in its corner, a splash of green and solid lines of earth spreading to weave through the other energies.
The room felt like the very flesh of the astral veils would be ripped in two, the power that surrounded these heavenly objects coursing along the lines of the worlds with such intensity it felt hard to stand. Everyone within a two thousand mile radius would feel the disturbance that was about to come. It felt so heavy in his hand, the diamond, the completion element that would forever bind the entity to this host, taking full use of such a wonderful physiology, the earthly status, all of the power and glory of this world was in his hand right now. Eyes gleamed greedily at the stone, lifting it up to take one last look at what was...
"THREE!" Michael burst through the door with Iolair and stopped dead in his tracks, staring in disbelief. It was so much, so much energy, yet it was almost silent save for the calming hum as the very essence of the elements of creation themselves danced in perfect unison with each other around him, through him, in him. His sword was lowered to the ground, humbled before the lights that swirled in his eyes. "My Lord..." He uttered, nearly dropping to his knees at a sight no angel, no construct human or otherwise should have ever been allowed to see. "You're too late! screamed the Phoenix as its head whipped around to spot the two that had intruded on his plan. With a defiant motion he lifted the stone and slammed the activation crystal into place on the altar.
What happened next was beyond the belief of even Michael, who had in all his days, thought he had seen everything in this world. The burst of light whiter than Heaven itself that poured forth from the stone was so stunning Michael had to look away, but when it had faded enough to see, the Phoenix was not looming by the altar with a grin, but on its knees, holding its throat, gagging and screaming. "You can't do this! You can't do this to me! I gave you life, I gave you the chance for your revenge!" There was no reply from the body kneeling before the altar, but there was a whisper on the elements, a very familiar voice just barely permeating the chamber.
"I can, and I have. You're the reason for my revenge. And you are my cage. I am prisoner no more..." Maedryn's dormancy was a ruse, just enough time to build the strength to overcome at the last minute! "You can't kill me! I am you. I am stronger than you now ." The Phoenix hissed, hands clutching at the tightness building in the body it had stolen. "I have tapped into the crystals' power. I assumed control for just enough time when you placed the diamond on the altar to be the consciousness to take control of the stones. You are at my will now. I am the elements, the walls, the stones, the altar, you... I am everything." the voice was calm but firm, echoing from the walls as if it had become them. The Phoenix's features hardened as it looked around it in panic and anger. "If you pull me out, we will both die and you will never get your revenge." There was no immediate response. Maedryn knew that removing the Phoenix from his aura would kill him and might not kill the firebird. He had explained as much to Iolair once. They were inexorably tied to one another, and without one, the other would surely perish. The Phoenix began to smile ruefully at having won the little chess game until the voice reverberated from the wall once more.
(Continued)
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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 22, 2005 19:33:55 GMT -5
(Continued)
"That has been the plan all along.".
Panic seized the entity and his face melted from smug to fear stricken before Theoren's head was forced back and his arms ripped away from his chest, his fingers curling and straining against the pain that was washing through his body. Slowly a dark energy seemed to appear, slowly, screaming as though it was in dire agony, as if it was being pulled from within, it began to emerge from the body of the fallen angel, its beak and talons gripping wildly at the air around it trying to get back in as it thrashed in Maedryn's hands. The words no longer could be understood and its shrieks of terror filled the room as Theoren's eyes opened, brown once more and a small smile curled on his lips.
Raising a hand the beam of light coming from the activation stone seemed to respond and follow. with it, and the Phoenix seemed to be held in place by some kind of force shield made from the energy in the room as Maedryn's consciousness slowly settled back into its rightful body. "Check... mate." He said with a defiant look as he curled his fist and then thrust it forwards, opening the palm as the light from the altar hit the giant dark entity with all its force. The Phoenix screamed at the excruciating pain as the light made contact, and then, in an instant it had shattered into billions of tiny black particles and were sucked out of the room.
The light disappeared an instant after, sucked back into the stone and all of the swirling sparkles retracted towards the altar before spiraling down towards the stones like water down a drain. The body of Theoren Roullier wavered, eyes closed for a moment, lids fluttering as the energy seeped too from his body. All of the cuts and bruises, the wounds, the traumas he had endured began to appear all over his body opening up and letting blood, red human blood, start to leak slowly from them. A small trickle flowed from his lip as a smile spread over his face, and he collapsed with a thud on the stone floor.
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jan 22, 2005 21:05:09 GMT -5
One. It felt like an eternity. Two. The agony of the wait seared through her body as she tightened the grip she had on the hilt of her sword. THREE! It felt as if all the pent up energy she had harbored now sprang to life in her muscles as she bursts into the room with Michael.
The sight before Kahlan was so astounding that her mouth drops open, silver blue eyes stare unblinking at the scene before her. How could she be seeing this...this...amazing show of the elements? In her hand Taeriss glows respectively, flames licking up the blade like hundreds and thousands of tiny hungry waves sent to consume the very existence of the blade. The only thing that tears her eyes away from the beauty before her is when Michael hits his knees, what was he doing? When the blinding light issues forth, Kahlan forces her free hand over her eyes until its searing brightness is lessened. Her body becomes rigid as she hears the Maedryn's voice. It felt as if she hadnt heard it for years. Standing resolutely next to Michael, his silver blood rubbed against the abdomen of her white shirt, Kahlan watches. Michael was tense as if he understood what was about to happen, the sheer weight of what was going on.
Iolair watched with wide eyes as the events transpired. The Phoenix entity was being torn from Maedryn's body and yet she could do nothing but feel express joy at seeing it writhe. It feared Maedryn now as it should have all along. It had grossly miscalculated the strength of the man. Yet despite her joy, Iolair could not swallow past the rising lump in her throat. Her breath came out in little better than a short pant and her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, only to find that her mouth has gone dry. When the entity is out Kahlan watches, unable to tear her gaze from Maedryn, as he finally has the last say. Fear, she could feel it, radiated out from the entity. It knew that its time was short lived.
Glass. It reminded her of glass shattering when dropped on the floor as bits and pieces of it flew out in a wide arc around Maedryn. Then it imploded in on itself almost as if a great vortex had opened up and swallowed the nasty lecher whole. It was over. His plan had worked...
When she looks from where the entity had ceased to exist to Maedryn, Iolair voice catches just under that lump in her throat as he waivers. No, no, no. She jerks her head slightly as she watches in horror as he falls to the floor. Finally her voice works and her horror is lost on no one in the room. "NO!" The word comes out as if she might have gagged on it. Yet the sound of it is so heart wrenching that it causes Michael to look at her.
Reflexively Iolair lets go of Taeriss, vaguely aware of the sound it makes as it clatters to the stone floor. Once it stops rattling on the floor seconds later, seconds that seem like hours, she dimly realizes that the fire has completely burned out. Just as this realization dawns Iolair notices the wounds opening up all over Maedryn's body and the color drains from her face so that her skin looks whisper thin. When she lurches forward, Micheal thinks about stopping her and realizes that he wouldnt succeed.
Her actions did not seem to be of her own as her footfalls echoed around the altar room, drawing closer and closer to Maedryn. Madness, Insanity, linger on the edge of her awareness as she closes the distance between them. As if broken, Iolair drops to her knees, despair evident in every movement that she made. Why had she fallen in love again? Why? Was this real? Heavens, she hoped it wasnt.
A trembling hand that did not seem to be her own for it was too pale, reaches out and touches Maedryn's face. Cold...so cold. Unable to control herself any longer, Iolair gathers his upper body in her arms, cradling his head against her heart as his blood seeps out of his body and soaks her pants and shirt.
"Maedryn?" Her voice trembled as she stared sightlessly ahead fighting the tears and the anguish that threatened to overwhelm her with every breath. Wasnt there a knife in her heart? It felt as if someone had pierced her heart, and that the pallid form gathered in her arms was just a figment of her imagination. "Its over..." Her voice is hardly above a whisper as she leans down and kisses Maedryn's forehead, greying as the blood spills from numerous wounds. Trying her hardest to slow her breathing, lest she faint, Iolair strokes Maedryn's hair back from his brow with her free hand and smiles for him a smile so sweet that it nearly seems forced, nearly. "Im going to miss you--" When you are gone... The words linger in the air like the stench of decay as finally, tears cascade from Iolair's beautiful eyes. Eyes that have seen so much pain and yet are ever cursed to see more and endure more.
She hadnt realized how much she loved Maedryn until it was too late. Cursed to lose another love, one that even now she could feel the link she shared start to dissolve. When it broke she felt that she might break too. Maedryn was different that the two men she had loved before, he had been like her and they shared a deep rooted bond that no one else understood. No one. That thought alone threatens to choke Iolair as she holds Maedryn in her arms for the last time, tears flowing down her pale pale cheeks. Fate had a way of playing with Iolair, making fun of her, lording all possibility of happiness in front of her before snatching it away again.
She had once been an Angel in Heaven, and now, now she felt little more than a wretch cast off into oblivion.
Even with sorrow etched on her face, the hostility in her very countenance causes Michael to stand back. Besides, she deserved every last moment Maedryn had to offer her.
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Post by Theoren Roullier on Jan 22, 2005 21:30:28 GMT -5
His head rolled to the side to look up into the bright eyes of Iolair one last time. "Hey you..." His breath was short, his voice weak as a trail of blood ran down his face from the corner of his mouth. "Why dose sad eyes?" A shaking hand barely had the strength to lift from the ground as cold fingertips touched her face, traced her cheek, brushed her hair. He had no idea she had come for him, but somehow it felt completing to see her once last time.
"Should be smilin' chere... I done a good t'ing, hein?" He was looking almost for confirmation of his deed, some kind of praise to let him know he had chosen the right path. His head turned, a cough racking an ever weakening body as a few more drops of blood spattered on the ground. As tears formed in her eyes and she begged him to save his energy he could only smile. "It's ok now Iolair... We saved de world, eh? All in a day's work." He tried to joke, get her to smile that beautiful smile he had grown to love over the passing years with such fervency. "No tears for me... sil vous plait..."
His voice trailed off as Michael stood behind Iolair with a hand on her shoulder. He gave it a squeeze. "Michael..." Maedryn smiled a bit. Michael nodded with a smile on his face and said nothing aloud. "I am proud of you, my son. And even now, so is He." Maedryn's weak smile brightened just the slightest as his eyelids began to droop and the answer echoed in Michael's mind, "I am... so glad..." The hand around Iolair's face began to go limp and it fell from her cheek. "Don' cry for me, Iolair. Jus'... know dat ... You have always been beauty t'me... an' I will never forget you."
To Maedryn's surprise he could see a tear form in the world, for his eyes only, and a light from the highest heavens shining down upon him in his final state. It was grace itself coming for him, and at long last the one thing he had wished for against all odds was in his hands; Redemption. Lips parted as the smile grew, and the last words of Theoren Roullier softly breathed towards their ears, "I'm going... home..." as his head lolled to the side and life left his body for the last time.
As his spirit floated from his material form Maedryn looked back on the ones he cared about so much as he drifted up, up towards the light. There was no longer a barrier there between him and his final ascension, no more longing for the home and family he had been deprived of. He was finally free.
Beyond the stars there lies a place where time has no meaning and dreams are reality. As Maedryn drifted one more back into Heaven's gates he felt a tingle reach deep into his very soul. Gray molting wings lifted on their own accord and a shimmering sheen engulfed them, restoring the feathers to their once former glory of pearl and gold. Fire-red hair became streaked in gold, and brown irises contracted and expanded turning a glittering metallic. There was a soothing presence moving through him, and though it did not speak he could swear it was trying to say 'welcome home.'
A little girl came running from the garden beyond the small house on the river he saw when he opened his eyes. Tears flooded him as he stooped down and picked her up in his arms, squeezing her as tight as he could as she laughed and hugged him too around the neck. A tall woman in gossamer stood in silver brilliance beyond the two children silently awaiting his return. Eyes shone with disbelief as Maedryn ran to her, the little girl in hand and hugged her as well. The woman smiled softly and laid a motherly kiss on the top of his head. "Welcome home, my son. We have missed you so much." She said gently.
Maedryn's smile never faded as he looked beyond him into the clouds that masked the higher heavens. He never should have doubted... but as Michael had told the Phoenix, it was not Heaven who needed to redeem him. His own actions took him home. And finally, at long last, he could come to rest here and dwell forever in peace.
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jan 22, 2005 22:30:45 GMT -5
She felt a shudder as Maedryn's life left its mortal bounds and Iolair wept. Oh how she wept! Clutching the shell of whom Maedryn had once been, Iolair cried tears that had not been shed for years, tears she had not shed even for Shaine. Her body wracked with sobs as she buries her face against Maedryn's neck. Iolair's hair had long since broken its bonds and now it swept over her, brushing against Maedryn's lifeless body seeking purchase.
He was gone. Gone. She could no longer feel the tie that once bound them. It had been broken. Sucking in a ragged breath, Iolair looks up after what seems like ages of pain and sorrow her face wet with tears that mingle with Maedryn's blood. "H-he is h-home." Now she wept not for her loss but for his final ascention. He was back where he belonged and that was how it should have been.
Iolair. He is happy. The sound of Michael's voice echoed through her shattered mind and she turns to look at him. Michael smiles benevolently despite his inward shock of just how much Iolair had lost. "I am happy for him Michael." When Michael reaches down to take Maedryn from Iolair, she protectively clutches the body. "No. No, no no. No. I will take it with me." Michael nods and touches her forehead before taking a step back. She knew that he had to go back and that soon, very soon, she would be alone.
When she had said her goodbyes to Michael, Iolair moves woodenly about the altar room. So drenched is she in blood, that it looks as if she had been wearing red all along. With all of her belongings accounted for and the stones (minus the diamond and emerald), Iolair walks over to Maedryn and folds his arms over his chest and stoops down. With a great heave she lifts his form into her arms and starts the long journey out of the cave. The Jasper would have left her as per her request. Her grief was still so fresh that she had to stop twice and compose herself with great effort before carrying on.
The sun was bright, cheerful, antagonizing as Kahlan strode out the cave and back into what felt like a dream. When the shore came into focus, Kahlan spies the Dawn achored out and a few hands restless on the shore. When they saw her, covered in blood as she was they knew. How could they not? Their captain was gone.
Before Kahlan can make a move further toward the crewmen, her footing falters and she falls to her knees, still holding Theo in her arms. Those on shore rush to her as fast as the sand will allow. "Ulster." She manages to croak through the pain and disorientation she feels welling up inside her like bile that refuses to go back down. They all knew what she meant and they knew she was in charge now. Two men manage to take Theo's body from her while another helps Kahlan to her feet and guides her toward the boat that Theo was being lowered into. There she sat in complete quiet until they got to the Dawn and Theo's body was seen to. "Clean him up." Three simple words and yet the despair is evident in them. Everyone felt it as the somber mood fell over the ship like a thick cloud of fog.
The first mate met Kahlan halfway, clasping her hand in a fashion that forced her to acknowledge him. "Take me to his quarters." The first mate nods and leads her below deck and through a door leading to the captains quarters. "Leave me." Her voice is so hollow that the first mate almost feels compelled to snatch the woman up and hug her. He could only imagine what she might be feeling for he knew that she and Theo had been very good friends. If only he knew.
When the first mate had left, Kahlan stares at the quarters and bursts into tears again. Moving over to a wash basin, shaky hands pour cool water and yet, in their wake there is an imprint of handprint in blood. Tears course down her cheeks as she emerses her hands in the cold water trying to scrub the blood from her hands. When the water is impossibly red, Kahlan dumps it into a tall bucket and simply refills it. Her scrubbing becomes urgent as if she wants to claw her own skin off. Her hands, once pale, are pink for all the scrubbing she is doing and the water is once again red as she continues to wash the blood off, some of her own now joining it.
Her face screws up as she finally breaks down into a sob. Her arms come down heavily on either side of the bowl of blood water and she stares into it. Wretched fool! She raises up and rakes her hand across the table and knocks the bowl to the floor, the red water splaters across the wood and seeps in. Mocking.
"What have I done to deserve this pain?! Have I done you some wrong that you seek to deny me happiness?!" It was no longer just about Maedryn, and the madness that threatened to envelop Kahlan was all too evident as she clutched at her white shirt and pulled at it. Just who was she yelling at? Kahlan simply appeared to melt as she collapses to the floor, beating the floor and her chest as she sobs great choking sobs. Her shirt is half torn, but it is of no use any longer as drenched in blood as it is.
When she finds herself once more she gathers the bowl she knocked off the table, pulls her blood soaked clothes from her body and lets them fall like long forgotten autumn leaves to the floor. The door was locked and no one dared walk into the screaming they had heard earlier. With new found vigor Kahlan scrubs the blood from her body and hair, diligently replacing water as it was needed to bathe the wound she would never ever be able to wash, the wound she would never ever be able to see.
When she is as clean as she will ever feel, Kahlan wanders over to the closet and pulls one of Theo's shirts over her head. His smell permeated the shirt and she could only break down into tears again and she cried and cried until nothing could come out. Sitting on the floor, she is vaguely aware of her need for pants which she finds in the closet as well. Lucky for her they were for a female for she would never have been able to fit into Theo's.
Just when Kahlan thinks she might go above deck, something catches her eye on a map strewn desk. Walking over to the table she looks down and her lip trembles as she smiles. On the desk was a beautiful rendition in charcole of Kahlan. It was evident that Theo had done it when she wasnt aware that he was even there. Trying to swallow past the lump that caught in her throat again she tries so so hard to push that thought from her mind. He would never watch her like this again.
Taking the drawing with her back toward Theo's vacant bed Kahlan props it up on a table near the bed and crawls under the coverlet. The door was unlocked so the men would not have to work at finding her. Quietly, absolutely spent, Kahlan begins to drift off to sleep in hopes she will wake up in far less pain and the despair will be gone.
Wont it? Wasnt it just...a dream?
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