09-09-2016, 01:12 PM
The room was quiet as Ascendancy retrieve a display and pulled up a security feed. He shared it with Marcus and he watched, fascinated, as the Atharim made their way into the trap that was laid for them. And then they disappeared.
Ascendancy didn't look worried, but he did get up and go to the floor and seat himself. Almost a meditative pose. The flickering flame danced shadows across the room, the quiet descending on them, palpable and heavy. The shadows elongated, seemed to stretch out and bath the room in some sort of ethereal darkness, as if this were some dream.
The heat from the fireplace began to feel stifling, as if draping him in some blanket, and he suddenly felt a tiredness wash over him. It would be very easy to fall asleep down here, ensconced in this...he wasn't sure what it felt like. Not a tomb. Not a lair. But it wasn't simple apartments either. There was a quietness that seemed to press in from everywhere, the massive weight of the earth above them almost something he could feel, the pressure in the air. A sanctuary. One in which he could sink into, enveloped in the bowels of the earth.
Drowsiness threatened so sweetly, draping its shadowy fingers across him, caressing his eyes, kneading sore muscles and calling to him with its siren song.
Exactly the wrong thing to happen. He stood, quietly so as to not disturb the man's meditation, and removed his jacket and tie. This was going to be a fight, soon enough, though Marcus laughed at the actual thought. With the power available to Ascendancy, to him, anyone who thought to defeat them would be sorely disabused. As he stood, he removed items from his pocket- his wallet, his key card, some bills. His hands brushed the smooth steel ball in his pocket. He felt its cool surface in between his fingers.
Almost, he pulled it out, wanting to show it to Ascendancy. But something held him. Not yet. It was not ready. Their arrangement was mutually beneficial. And Ascendancy had taken him into his confidence, into his inner sanctum. There was so much he needed to learn. He would present something more than this simple ball, however transformed by the Force it was.
He remained standing, staving off the tiredness that wanted to lull him to sleep, watching the door. The quiet got deeper except for the quiet roar and pops of the fire and Marcus looked at it for a moment, looked into its infinite depths.
Something beyond sound hissed into the air. Almost he could make out sounds, as if someone were speaking. The memory of laying in his room with his foster siblings, being awakened from sleep by their whispering came to him. Too far and soft to hear, almost as if he dreamed it. There was no meaning he could put to what he could make out.
Ascendancy's head whipped to him, eyes flaring. "What did you say?"
Marcus was about to protest when everything happened at once.
The sensors began blaring out a cacophony of noise and Ascendancy checked the display. Marcus immediately knew the Atharim were here, even as he felt the Ascendancy seize the Force, filling himself to the brim. Menace permeated the room, squeezed and forced itself into every corner. The furniture itself moved out from the center to the edges, the space cleared for the confrontation.
Marcus prepared to seized the Force himself when he noticed something and paused. Or rather, he felt it first. Ascendancy drew in more of the Force, more and more, as if he were dying of thirst, unquenchable. More than he'd held in Red Square earlier today.
The shadows of the room were playing tricks on his eyes, Ascendancy's tired face at once seeming euphoric and rapturous, and then strained and in agony.
And then the shadows seemed to coalesce in some way, taking form, nebulous and shifting, a cloud of black silver undulating, light coming from somewhere in its depths. Was that something Ascendancy was making?
The whine of nails on chalkboard bit into his mind, trying to wipe him clean, words he could not understand.
And Ascendancy screamed, the rictus of agony freezing his face, mouth tortured into a shape he remembered from his own excursions. A man screaming out his soul to death
And Marcus was frozen for a second that seemed like eternity, trying to process what he was seeing. Knowing of the Atharim, having seen those things at the Almaz, knowing there were nightmares made flesh was intellectual.
But nightmare had been born in this room. And it was killing Ascendancy. Marcus shoved down the slither of Malik, the whispered temptation to let it happen. Not now. Not this way. Nothing had changed from earlier today. He needed Ascendancy. Alive.
He opened himself and grabbed the Force, choking it down, throttling it in his mind, broke it to his will. He lashed out at the now solidified mist, a blow of air to strike it back.
It seemed to shudder in the wind, a cloud dispersing. But it reformed, black red eyes focused on him. Marcus gave it no chance. Ascendancy was still frozen, scream pouring from him as if ripped from his soul.
The room was hot, now, as he he wove another weave, air and fire and earth, to batter the thing. The creature shifted again, words forming in the air, words he did not understand, words he did not need to understand, translated by the malevolent eyes promising its own retribution when it was done with Ascendancy.
Marcus' eyes watered at the heat in the room, as if the fire had roared into a furnace, head light, and he felt a roaring in his ears. He had to think. Each blow had only dispersed it.
Thought came to him slowly, congealed cold honey, dribbling glacially, one drop at a time. He projected, tried to calculate. It dispersed. It was the wrong style of attack. Marcus wove through the dizziness, compressing the air around the creature, trying to solidify it. Even as he did so, he wove another thread of earth and fire and slammed it into it. This time the thing shuddered as if hit.
Marcus' elation was short lived as something in his pocket flared to life, a coal, fire. He looked down and saw arcing blue light, sparks around the shape of the metal ball. All around him, the metal in the room sparked and flashed, flames fanning to life where they touched fabric or wood. The place would go up soon.
The burning flesh of his leg grabbed his attention and he fell to the floor. Another weave seized the metal ball from the burned hole in his pants and held it up, arcing blue lighting playing around it, his own pain etched on the twisted reflection of his face.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself through the fogginess- the room danced around his vision, twisting and melting in his mind, as if in a funhouse mirror. He knew where the creature was and wove again, solidifying it again, hitting it harder, hearing through the roar the thud as it struck the wall.
The creature seemed to writhe and go wild as he penned it there, and he looked at Ascendancy to see if whatever it was doing had stopped.
But he was on fire, from inside his chest and stomach and head, could feel himself churning. He held onto the Force with every fiber of his being even as he fell to his knees, mind reeling, searching for whatever it was that did this to them.
The arcing of the ball seemed to bathe it in blue light. Something. There was something familiar about it.
Ascendancy didn't look worried, but he did get up and go to the floor and seat himself. Almost a meditative pose. The flickering flame danced shadows across the room, the quiet descending on them, palpable and heavy. The shadows elongated, seemed to stretch out and bath the room in some sort of ethereal darkness, as if this were some dream.
The heat from the fireplace began to feel stifling, as if draping him in some blanket, and he suddenly felt a tiredness wash over him. It would be very easy to fall asleep down here, ensconced in this...he wasn't sure what it felt like. Not a tomb. Not a lair. But it wasn't simple apartments either. There was a quietness that seemed to press in from everywhere, the massive weight of the earth above them almost something he could feel, the pressure in the air. A sanctuary. One in which he could sink into, enveloped in the bowels of the earth.
Drowsiness threatened so sweetly, draping its shadowy fingers across him, caressing his eyes, kneading sore muscles and calling to him with its siren song.
Exactly the wrong thing to happen. He stood, quietly so as to not disturb the man's meditation, and removed his jacket and tie. This was going to be a fight, soon enough, though Marcus laughed at the actual thought. With the power available to Ascendancy, to him, anyone who thought to defeat them would be sorely disabused. As he stood, he removed items from his pocket- his wallet, his key card, some bills. His hands brushed the smooth steel ball in his pocket. He felt its cool surface in between his fingers.
Almost, he pulled it out, wanting to show it to Ascendancy. But something held him. Not yet. It was not ready. Their arrangement was mutually beneficial. And Ascendancy had taken him into his confidence, into his inner sanctum. There was so much he needed to learn. He would present something more than this simple ball, however transformed by the Force it was.
He remained standing, staving off the tiredness that wanted to lull him to sleep, watching the door. The quiet got deeper except for the quiet roar and pops of the fire and Marcus looked at it for a moment, looked into its infinite depths.
Something beyond sound hissed into the air. Almost he could make out sounds, as if someone were speaking. The memory of laying in his room with his foster siblings, being awakened from sleep by their whispering came to him. Too far and soft to hear, almost as if he dreamed it. There was no meaning he could put to what he could make out.
Ascendancy's head whipped to him, eyes flaring. "What did you say?"
Marcus was about to protest when everything happened at once.
The sensors began blaring out a cacophony of noise and Ascendancy checked the display. Marcus immediately knew the Atharim were here, even as he felt the Ascendancy seize the Force, filling himself to the brim. Menace permeated the room, squeezed and forced itself into every corner. The furniture itself moved out from the center to the edges, the space cleared for the confrontation.
Marcus prepared to seized the Force himself when he noticed something and paused. Or rather, he felt it first. Ascendancy drew in more of the Force, more and more, as if he were dying of thirst, unquenchable. More than he'd held in Red Square earlier today.
The shadows of the room were playing tricks on his eyes, Ascendancy's tired face at once seeming euphoric and rapturous, and then strained and in agony.
And then the shadows seemed to coalesce in some way, taking form, nebulous and shifting, a cloud of black silver undulating, light coming from somewhere in its depths. Was that something Ascendancy was making?
The whine of nails on chalkboard bit into his mind, trying to wipe him clean, words he could not understand.
And Ascendancy screamed, the rictus of agony freezing his face, mouth tortured into a shape he remembered from his own excursions. A man screaming out his soul to death
And Marcus was frozen for a second that seemed like eternity, trying to process what he was seeing. Knowing of the Atharim, having seen those things at the Almaz, knowing there were nightmares made flesh was intellectual.
But nightmare had been born in this room. And it was killing Ascendancy. Marcus shoved down the slither of Malik, the whispered temptation to let it happen. Not now. Not this way. Nothing had changed from earlier today. He needed Ascendancy. Alive.
He opened himself and grabbed the Force, choking it down, throttling it in his mind, broke it to his will. He lashed out at the now solidified mist, a blow of air to strike it back.
It seemed to shudder in the wind, a cloud dispersing. But it reformed, black red eyes focused on him. Marcus gave it no chance. Ascendancy was still frozen, scream pouring from him as if ripped from his soul.
The room was hot, now, as he he wove another weave, air and fire and earth, to batter the thing. The creature shifted again, words forming in the air, words he did not understand, words he did not need to understand, translated by the malevolent eyes promising its own retribution when it was done with Ascendancy.
Marcus' eyes watered at the heat in the room, as if the fire had roared into a furnace, head light, and he felt a roaring in his ears. He had to think. Each blow had only dispersed it.
Thought came to him slowly, congealed cold honey, dribbling glacially, one drop at a time. He projected, tried to calculate. It dispersed. It was the wrong style of attack. Marcus wove through the dizziness, compressing the air around the creature, trying to solidify it. Even as he did so, he wove another thread of earth and fire and slammed it into it. This time the thing shuddered as if hit.
Marcus' elation was short lived as something in his pocket flared to life, a coal, fire. He looked down and saw arcing blue light, sparks around the shape of the metal ball. All around him, the metal in the room sparked and flashed, flames fanning to life where they touched fabric or wood. The place would go up soon.
The burning flesh of his leg grabbed his attention and he fell to the floor. Another weave seized the metal ball from the burned hole in his pants and held it up, arcing blue lighting playing around it, his own pain etched on the twisted reflection of his face.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself through the fogginess- the room danced around his vision, twisting and melting in his mind, as if in a funhouse mirror. He knew where the creature was and wove again, solidifying it again, hitting it harder, hearing through the roar the thud as it struck the wall.
The creature seemed to writhe and go wild as he penned it there, and he looked at Ascendancy to see if whatever it was doing had stopped.
But he was on fire, from inside his chest and stomach and head, could feel himself churning. He held onto the Force with every fiber of his being even as he fell to his knees, mind reeling, searching for whatever it was that did this to them.
The arcing of the ball seemed to bathe it in blue light. Something. There was something familiar about it.