And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying,
'Come and see.' and I saw.
***
One of the four beasts saying,
'Come and see.' and I saw.
***
There is a dragon here.
Calliope's words ricocheted against the walls of Raymond's mind as the strange mare recounted her tale, near-hysterical with fright and despair. It was a scene that had been burned into his memory once before; he had hoped never to see its like again. The reassuring smile on his face evaporated more and more as her story progressed, until all that remained was red stone and the flame smoldering behind his eyes.
What does one do with a weapon, once it is firmly in their grasp? The answer to such a question changes wildly with the motives of the wielder, but power is corrosive. Power deludes, and it infects, and it twists, and once it takes root the insidious stain can rarely be purged. If one fancies more power, a great weapon might make of one a fearsome conqueror, but Novus was not an easy place to conquer. But to turn that weapon upon one's own people, to lock them inside with the nightmare you inflicted upon them, to abandon them to their fear and their desperation....
There is a dragon here.
No wonder this place was silent as a grave.
Raymond's lip twitched as though to remind him - and Isra - that he was still alive. She could not have been lying: he'd seen the waste of the pass by the gates, could smell the palpable fear-stench sweating through her quivering flesh. The arch of his tail had tightened instinctively as she spoke, and the fire in his eyes rivaled the flashes of panic in her own. Even as she urged him to follow her to safety, to leave, he recognized a girl from his now-distant past along a fateful, winding river. She had suffered as Isra had suffered. Her fear had faces, her torment a cause.
All dead now. All gone. Dismantled, dissolved, sustenance for the perpetuation of worthier organisms.
He had his answer now whether the dragon was the enemy, and one better he finally understood what would inspire the lady of lions to charge headlong into a swarm of them. But he had no intention of slaying any dragons today, and he had no intention of letting this frantic girl lead him away from danger either.
How smug the trio had looked, waltzing late into the summit. How self-important. Was there anything left of them to be reasoned with, or were they too blinded by their own mental masturbation to care for the suffering of their countrymen? There were sickly, strangling roots here, and innocents had paid the price of a guilty man's folly. Raymond could not simply walk away - not if he ever wanted to face Calliope again, or himself.
"I am the devil," Raymond replied coldly. In those bitter words lay the weight of a thousand devoured sins.
Declining the frightened mare's offer with a shake of his head, he continued, "Not quite yet," and grew still...then flashed another smile - this one forged of solid steel. "Would you be so kind as to show me to your kingdom's dovecote or rookery instead? I need to send someone a letter."
Calliope's words ricocheted against the walls of Raymond's mind as the strange mare recounted her tale, near-hysterical with fright and despair. It was a scene that had been burned into his memory once before; he had hoped never to see its like again. The reassuring smile on his face evaporated more and more as her story progressed, until all that remained was red stone and the flame smoldering behind his eyes.
What does one do with a weapon, once it is firmly in their grasp? The answer to such a question changes wildly with the motives of the wielder, but power is corrosive. Power deludes, and it infects, and it twists, and once it takes root the insidious stain can rarely be purged. If one fancies more power, a great weapon might make of one a fearsome conqueror, but Novus was not an easy place to conquer. But to turn that weapon upon one's own people, to lock them inside with the nightmare you inflicted upon them, to abandon them to their fear and their desperation....
There is a dragon here.
No wonder this place was silent as a grave.
Raymond's lip twitched as though to remind him - and Isra - that he was still alive. She could not have been lying: he'd seen the waste of the pass by the gates, could smell the palpable fear-stench sweating through her quivering flesh. The arch of his tail had tightened instinctively as she spoke, and the fire in his eyes rivaled the flashes of panic in her own. Even as she urged him to follow her to safety, to leave, he recognized a girl from his now-distant past along a fateful, winding river. She had suffered as Isra had suffered. Her fear had faces, her torment a cause.
All dead now. All gone. Dismantled, dissolved, sustenance for the perpetuation of worthier organisms.
He had his answer now whether the dragon was the enemy, and one better he finally understood what would inspire the lady of lions to charge headlong into a swarm of them. But he had no intention of slaying any dragons today, and he had no intention of letting this frantic girl lead him away from danger either.
How smug the trio had looked, waltzing late into the summit. How self-important. Was there anything left of them to be reasoned with, or were they too blinded by their own mental masturbation to care for the suffering of their countrymen? There were sickly, strangling roots here, and innocents had paid the price of a guilty man's folly. Raymond could not simply walk away - not if he ever wanted to face Calliope again, or himself.
"I am the devil," Raymond replied coldly. In those bitter words lay the weight of a thousand devoured sins.
Declining the frightened mare's offer with a shake of his head, he continued, "Not quite yet," and grew still...then flashed another smile - this one forged of solid steel. "Would you be so kind as to show me to your kingdom's dovecote or rookery instead? I need to send someone a letter."
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
@Isra
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
