12-29-2017, 09:04 PM
It was if her words were a needle, a pin prick, and suddenly the balloon was pierced and the air hissed out, deflatiled. His arm dropped, his grip loosened and the stone fell to the carpeted floor with a thud.
Her arms-she!- was closed to him, frowning. He'd looked, hoped....for what, he wasn't sure
She couldn't know. He turned, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he looked around. The room was spare. Just a cot, slightly wider than normal. His bags. A few pillows and her blankets from earlier a pile in the corner.
She was a child in a universe older than she could know. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and sat down. He stared through the wallet, at nothing really, speaking into the air.
"You have called me Regus, without knowing what that means. You have accepted my authority without knowing of what." He frowned, the next part torn from him. "You call me "beloved' , never asking who brought us together."
It was quiet for a time as he sought first one path then another. Nothing seemed to jump out. This wasn't a speech. This wasn't oratory. There were no tricks or flourishes here. Just a man and a woman. A man trying to commmunicate with a woman.
"Rasputin took you down below 130 years ago. More than five or six generations. My people, the Atharim, have been protecting mankind for more than 10,000 years. 450 generations. From creatures like those in the tunnels. Wefuke. Wolfkin. Drainaka. Harpies. Quetzals. Bainak. And so many more, more dangerous than most people realize. But above all else, we defended people against the return of the gods."
He did not know Khylsty lore. Surely they had tales. Even monotheistic religions had Nephilim and Anakim, demons and archangels, giants of old. Others had tales of gods against gods, demigods, monsters. "I do not know your stories. But long ago, mankind was enslaved by these beings called gods. They killed and took at will. Their wars against each other brought suffering and devastation across the land. Their abilities made them arrogant and selfish, inhuman. Until the Ancient Atharim, from even longer ago, rose up, led humanity in a fight for freedom. It was long and bloody across the world but eventually we won. Humanity was free."
The catechism flowed easily from his lips. He looked up, tried to see the expression on her face. "For thousands of years, we protected humanity from the monsters. The leader of the Atharim was called the Regus. But our charge was only half complete. The gods would come again. And so we watched for any sign, determined to snuff it out before it became strong."
He looked at her, blue eyes fiery. "That day is now. They have revealed themselves."
He knew it was much to believe. He flipped his wallet to holo projection mode, played the videos of Vellas at DV. The pure destruction and terrible majesty. He played the video of Volodin in the marketplace. Of Andlain's followers. "Above all, prophecy warned of the coming Apollyon, at whose steps weeds would spring up. Who would wield death and destruction as a sword to break the world. We have beem vigilant. We have done what must be done, no matter how painful"- his voice faltered for a moment but he forced himself to go one, voice hard "-to protect the world. But Apollyon came. He rules. He is worshipped as a god, around the world."
The video played. Brandon before the sea of people. The mausoleum dissolving into a thousand strands, to be replaced with the Arch. "I snuck into the tunnels to him, before he brought the destruction. I followed the leadings of prophecy and fate smiled on us. Apollyon was killed. It cost us everything. The Atharim are scattered and broken after millenia. But we had prevailed." He couldn't keep the joy and optimism he'd felt at that certainty. The video of a dead Brandon stood frozen in the air.
He stopped, staring at it. It brought so much joy to see. He continued the play. There Brandon stood, just a day or two later, healed and completely intact.
"I have followed the visions my whole life, made decisions at their leading." He could hear the strains of a violin in a Roma camp and he shook his head, to dispel it. "I have done the unthinkable and the unforgivable to safeguard for mankind a world I do not deserve to live in, because of visions."
He dropped the wallet to the floor. "They were lies, designed to lead us along. To lead me along. And in the end, we have only made him stronger. He is now more worshipped than ever before."
Bitterly he chuckled. "Dying and being resurrected tend to cement one's position as a god."
He looked at her, studied her eyes, searching for her thoughts. "Visions have led me as a slave for decades, us for millenia. All to the glory and power of the returnered gods."
Edited by Regus, Dec 30 2017, 02:51 AM.
Her arms-she!- was closed to him, frowning. He'd looked, hoped....for what, he wasn't sure
She couldn't know. He turned, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he looked around. The room was spare. Just a cot, slightly wider than normal. His bags. A few pillows and her blankets from earlier a pile in the corner.
She was a child in a universe older than she could know. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and sat down. He stared through the wallet, at nothing really, speaking into the air.
"You have called me Regus, without knowing what that means. You have accepted my authority without knowing of what." He frowned, the next part torn from him. "You call me "beloved' , never asking who brought us together."
It was quiet for a time as he sought first one path then another. Nothing seemed to jump out. This wasn't a speech. This wasn't oratory. There were no tricks or flourishes here. Just a man and a woman. A man trying to commmunicate with a woman.
"Rasputin took you down below 130 years ago. More than five or six generations. My people, the Atharim, have been protecting mankind for more than 10,000 years. 450 generations. From creatures like those in the tunnels. Wefuke. Wolfkin. Drainaka. Harpies. Quetzals. Bainak. And so many more, more dangerous than most people realize. But above all else, we defended people against the return of the gods."
He did not know Khylsty lore. Surely they had tales. Even monotheistic religions had Nephilim and Anakim, demons and archangels, giants of old. Others had tales of gods against gods, demigods, monsters. "I do not know your stories. But long ago, mankind was enslaved by these beings called gods. They killed and took at will. Their wars against each other brought suffering and devastation across the land. Their abilities made them arrogant and selfish, inhuman. Until the Ancient Atharim, from even longer ago, rose up, led humanity in a fight for freedom. It was long and bloody across the world but eventually we won. Humanity was free."
The catechism flowed easily from his lips. He looked up, tried to see the expression on her face. "For thousands of years, we protected humanity from the monsters. The leader of the Atharim was called the Regus. But our charge was only half complete. The gods would come again. And so we watched for any sign, determined to snuff it out before it became strong."
He looked at her, blue eyes fiery. "That day is now. They have revealed themselves."
He knew it was much to believe. He flipped his wallet to holo projection mode, played the videos of Vellas at DV. The pure destruction and terrible majesty. He played the video of Volodin in the marketplace. Of Andlain's followers. "Above all, prophecy warned of the coming Apollyon, at whose steps weeds would spring up. Who would wield death and destruction as a sword to break the world. We have beem vigilant. We have done what must be done, no matter how painful"- his voice faltered for a moment but he forced himself to go one, voice hard "-to protect the world. But Apollyon came. He rules. He is worshipped as a god, around the world."
The video played. Brandon before the sea of people. The mausoleum dissolving into a thousand strands, to be replaced with the Arch. "I snuck into the tunnels to him, before he brought the destruction. I followed the leadings of prophecy and fate smiled on us. Apollyon was killed. It cost us everything. The Atharim are scattered and broken after millenia. But we had prevailed." He couldn't keep the joy and optimism he'd felt at that certainty. The video of a dead Brandon stood frozen in the air.
He stopped, staring at it. It brought so much joy to see. He continued the play. There Brandon stood, just a day or two later, healed and completely intact.
"I have followed the visions my whole life, made decisions at their leading." He could hear the strains of a violin in a Roma camp and he shook his head, to dispel it. "I have done the unthinkable and the unforgivable to safeguard for mankind a world I do not deserve to live in, because of visions."
He dropped the wallet to the floor. "They were lies, designed to lead us along. To lead me along. And in the end, we have only made him stronger. He is now more worshipped than ever before."
Bitterly he chuckled. "Dying and being resurrected tend to cement one's position as a god."
He looked at her, studied her eyes, searching for her thoughts. "Visions have led me as a slave for decades, us for millenia. All to the glory and power of the returnered gods."
Edited by Regus, Dec 30 2017, 02:51 AM.