02-26-2014, 07:15 PM
Damien flourished in the following four years as he mastered the light of power. He extended the scope of his learning and began to study the art of philosophy. From Aristotle to Descartes, Socrates to Nietzsche he became a consummate student and adapt philosopher in his own right.
His experiments with the light did not always meet with favourable results but his determination and the death sentence that hung over his head allowed for rapid, if brutal, growth. This growth brought with it fear and respect. His self-assurance took on an otherworldly and unshakeable serenity which drew the attention of the warden and his staff.
Beech first approached him as he sat reading the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius one afternoon under the mild autumn sunlight in the yard. The balding man was accompanied by two heavily armed underlings who eyed the prisoners with wary contempt. It was a pointless affectation. None of the dozen or so inmates would dare approach him without good reason.
“So you’ve made peace with your situation, Oakland?”
the Warden asked, condescending to sit down on the smoothed bench of steel. “What with all that trouble you caused at first, I thought you were a goner for sure. I’m pleased you’ve decided to settle yourself.”
“I am content,”
was all he deigned to say without looking up.
Beech cleared his throat and the guards shifted with restless energy. After a protracted silence, Damien looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You have something you wish to discuss?”
The skinny man looked hesitant but spoke with a clear firmness. “The results of your recent appeal.”
Damien did not move. “I wasn’t aware I attended the proceedings. Tell me Warden Beech, did I miss something?”
“No Oakland, you didn’t. The judge has pronounced his decision though.”
“Of course,”
he replied. “When is my next appeal?”
Beech grimaced and he actually looked embarrassed. “I tried to delay the proceedings... Two years. The courts will not review your case for another two years.”
“Thank you, Warden. Is there anything else?”
Beech made to say something but caught himself and shook his head. “No, that will be all. You have twenty minutes remaining.”
Beech and his men left Damien to his own devices. Some of the inmates looked at him with nervous apprehension. Damien ignored them. He looked up towards the cloudless sky. Two years... and how long after that before they ended the charade?
He wrapped himself in the comforting presence of the light of power. He had learned to master the use of the strange threads of power. He could knit them together to create a host of otherwise miraculous feats. He had suffered, persevered, listened and learned for seven years.
His penance was finally at an end. It was time.
His experiments with the light did not always meet with favourable results but his determination and the death sentence that hung over his head allowed for rapid, if brutal, growth. This growth brought with it fear and respect. His self-assurance took on an otherworldly and unshakeable serenity which drew the attention of the warden and his staff.
Beech first approached him as he sat reading the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius one afternoon under the mild autumn sunlight in the yard. The balding man was accompanied by two heavily armed underlings who eyed the prisoners with wary contempt. It was a pointless affectation. None of the dozen or so inmates would dare approach him without good reason.
“So you’ve made peace with your situation, Oakland?”
the Warden asked, condescending to sit down on the smoothed bench of steel. “What with all that trouble you caused at first, I thought you were a goner for sure. I’m pleased you’ve decided to settle yourself.”
“I am content,”
was all he deigned to say without looking up.
Beech cleared his throat and the guards shifted with restless energy. After a protracted silence, Damien looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You have something you wish to discuss?”
The skinny man looked hesitant but spoke with a clear firmness. “The results of your recent appeal.”
Damien did not move. “I wasn’t aware I attended the proceedings. Tell me Warden Beech, did I miss something?”
“No Oakland, you didn’t. The judge has pronounced his decision though.”
“Of course,”
he replied. “When is my next appeal?”
Beech grimaced and he actually looked embarrassed. “I tried to delay the proceedings... Two years. The courts will not review your case for another two years.”
“Thank you, Warden. Is there anything else?”
Beech made to say something but caught himself and shook his head. “No, that will be all. You have twenty minutes remaining.”
Beech and his men left Damien to his own devices. Some of the inmates looked at him with nervous apprehension. Damien ignored them. He looked up towards the cloudless sky. Two years... and how long after that before they ended the charade?
He wrapped himself in the comforting presence of the light of power. He had learned to master the use of the strange threads of power. He could knit them together to create a host of otherwise miraculous feats. He had suffered, persevered, listened and learned for seven years.
His penance was finally at an end. It was time.