01-02-2018, 05:04 PM
Her smile was enough. He was Awake.
The room was quiet as he thought on the future. So much to do. For them to do. Him, first, of course. This was his world, not hers. He had to prepare the way before her, prepare her. She needed to learn the ways of the Above. He saw the way she and the others all looked at his wallet, at the medicine. Technology was magic, to them. But they would learn.
Apollyon lived. Somehow, though dead, he was alive again. Worse, the power and and awe he commanded had grown as a result of his attack. (He bit back the self-recrimination that wanted to spring up again. The words she had just spoken were still clear in his mind. "Honor your sin, Armande, for only the sinful can repent."
)
Instead, just as before, something about Apollyon tickled the back of his mind. He held on to the thread carefully, not pulling on it for it to snap away, lost deep in the recesses of his mind. No, he let his mind relax for a moment, dwelling on the thought that had triggered the reflex. Let the thread relax and pool and strengthen. Apollyon lived after being killed. Had grown in prestige. He had the thread now, was able to follow it.
And inwardly he smiled.
Clever. So very clever. The deathstroke of the Beast; his descent into the abyss, and then his return to life. And the whole world was filled with wonder and awe and followed the beast. Obvious.
There was still much for them to do. This was not a single battle, not against one man. It was a war and there were sides. In the ancient histories, the Atharim led the fight. But humanity had joined the cause.
For too long, the Atharim....he stopped himself. Valeriya was there, watching him. Waiting. And once again, he was plotting on his own. Old habits, he thought wrily. "Apollyon is worshipped as a god, now more than ever. The Atharim are scattered to the wind. And we Khylsty are few in number. We will need to build ourselves up, bind ourselves together. First, Khlysty, then the Atharim. After that, we will need inspire others to join us. This is not just our fight. It will not be won by us alone. Mankind against the gods. With us at the helm."
He saw red at the corner of his eye, saw the bloodstone on the floor where he had dropped it. He reached for it and handed it to her. "You are the key. You hold the key. The things in the boxes, the map. Your visions. They will guide us. We can go outside, today, you and I. So you may see your vision begin to become reality."
There was something else. He shifted forward, reached out to take her arms in his, his hands on her forearms and hers on his, leaning forward. Her eyes filled his. "I am Khylsty. But the others do not know this. The traditions must be honored. The rituals kept. First, I must be bound to them in whatever initiation ceremony you have. Let Matvei or any of the others never be able to say that I am not a part of you. That we are not one."
And then he smiled wickedly, let her see the desire for her smoldering deep in his eyes, ready to burst into a fiery furnace. Felt her legs against his, saw her inviting lips. His voice was deeper and huskier. "And then, when you are ready, I must be bound to you and you to me."
Edited by Regus, Jan 2 2018, 09:30 PM.
The room was quiet as he thought on the future. So much to do. For them to do. Him, first, of course. This was his world, not hers. He had to prepare the way before her, prepare her. She needed to learn the ways of the Above. He saw the way she and the others all looked at his wallet, at the medicine. Technology was magic, to them. But they would learn.
Apollyon lived. Somehow, though dead, he was alive again. Worse, the power and and awe he commanded had grown as a result of his attack. (He bit back the self-recrimination that wanted to spring up again. The words she had just spoken were still clear in his mind. "Honor your sin, Armande, for only the sinful can repent."
)
Instead, just as before, something about Apollyon tickled the back of his mind. He held on to the thread carefully, not pulling on it for it to snap away, lost deep in the recesses of his mind. No, he let his mind relax for a moment, dwelling on the thought that had triggered the reflex. Let the thread relax and pool and strengthen. Apollyon lived after being killed. Had grown in prestige. He had the thread now, was able to follow it.
And inwardly he smiled.
Clever. So very clever. The deathstroke of the Beast; his descent into the abyss, and then his return to life. And the whole world was filled with wonder and awe and followed the beast. Obvious.
There was still much for them to do. This was not a single battle, not against one man. It was a war and there were sides. In the ancient histories, the Atharim led the fight. But humanity had joined the cause.
For too long, the Atharim....he stopped himself. Valeriya was there, watching him. Waiting. And once again, he was plotting on his own. Old habits, he thought wrily. "Apollyon is worshipped as a god, now more than ever. The Atharim are scattered to the wind. And we Khylsty are few in number. We will need to build ourselves up, bind ourselves together. First, Khlysty, then the Atharim. After that, we will need inspire others to join us. This is not just our fight. It will not be won by us alone. Mankind against the gods. With us at the helm."
He saw red at the corner of his eye, saw the bloodstone on the floor where he had dropped it. He reached for it and handed it to her. "You are the key. You hold the key. The things in the boxes, the map. Your visions. They will guide us. We can go outside, today, you and I. So you may see your vision begin to become reality."
There was something else. He shifted forward, reached out to take her arms in his, his hands on her forearms and hers on his, leaning forward. Her eyes filled his. "I am Khylsty. But the others do not know this. The traditions must be honored. The rituals kept. First, I must be bound to them in whatever initiation ceremony you have. Let Matvei or any of the others never be able to say that I am not a part of you. That we are not one."
And then he smiled wickedly, let her see the desire for her smoldering deep in his eyes, ready to burst into a fiery furnace. Felt her legs against his, saw her inviting lips. His voice was deeper and huskier. "And then, when you are ready, I must be bound to you and you to me."
Edited by Regus, Jan 2 2018, 09:30 PM.