Matinus kept glancing out of the corner of his eye. It was strange watching his mom - well, his step-mom - sitting beside Colin on the grass. His attention would be pulled when Nioma would find a weird-shaped rock or something equally silly to show him, but Matinus kept looking and feeling.
It was a different love than what he felt when Sanria and his dad were together. She loved her dad and was protective of him, but the feeling Matinus felt was how when his dad and Sanria were together, their hearts kinda melted into one another. She adored his dad. With Colin, though, it was different. Matinus could feel something more here, something old that wasn't as lovely as what he'd been feeling when his dad and Sanria were together. He put his finger on it at the same moment Nioma splashed him by dropping a large stone in the stream. Colin was scared, Sanria knew it.
Matinus wiped the water from his cheek and snapped at Nioma. She looked sad for a moment, then chased after a squirrel. He sat there, feeling more. Colin was scared of something and it made him want Sanria all to himself. But, Sanria, mom, didn't feel the same. Like she knew he was afraid and it made her tired. Like she was being nice. Like she loved him less than she loved his dad.
Matinus kept stealing glances and feelings, but for a moment he was happy. He felt Sanria loved his dad more. Then they kissed and Matinus had to look away. It just looked wrong. He was happy, sure, that all the adults were getting along, but he found himself wishing it was just his dad again. Like Sanria belonged to his dad, not to two guys.
He sighed as Nioma came up, waving a muddy stick around. He shooed her away, then his mom got up and Colin got up and their time was at an end. Nioma led the way back through the forest, skipping and singing at the top of her lungs, then Sanria and Colin, then Matinus - watching, feeling, ingesting. He wasn't really sure how to feel. This whole thing was a little more than confusing. It was awkward.
The End Is Where We Begin II/II
As the last of the incantations died away, Ror examined the container and smirked, "Really, did you think we would let you get away just like that?" He spoke to Mason's soul in its prison. He turned to the guards, "Get rid of that. His corporeal remains are worth nothing, but if you let them lie about it will bloat and stink." That said, Ror walked away with the container to the laboratory, the metal chain thrown over his shoulder, dangling just above the ground.
The guards nodded, and one bend over to check the body whether it was still alive. Funny how humans could act in such situations. "He's dead," said the guard, stating the obvious. "No pulse, no breathing and no use for us. Let's finish the job and dispose of his body." Together they picked up Mason's corpse and dragged it to the highest cliff of Torregiano where they threw it into the deap sea. There it would rot and serve as fish food or perhaps wash ashore somewhere, but this was of no concern to the Tripower anymore.
Meanwhile in the laboratory, Ror had installed the container in his latest experimental device. Originally he had intended to use it for materia experimentation, to help his fiancee. But a soul would do too. Having slotted the container into place he adjusted the crystals and runes a bit before starting. And so, in the early hours of the morning, the soul of Mason was subject to a torturous experiment in which Ror unravelled the soul like one would unravel a ball of yarn, or a spider web. The sage didn't look away. On contrary, there was a fire in his eyes that burned brightly as he watched the process of Mason's soul deliberately being pulled apart bit by bit by Ror's magic and equipment in this experiment.
And Ror learned as Mason's soul was torn apart and disintegrated. Never would it join the lifestream: its memories and essence lost forever, save the knowledge Ror learned in return. Such irony, thought Ror, that a man who would be known as the most incompetent leader the Tripower had ever seen, would serve the Kingdom one last time in his final hour.
After the last of Mason's soul had disintegrated into nothing for good, Ror switched the experiment off and sat down. "I need to write this down," he thought, and he grabbed his research journal to start making notes.
But instead he wrote down,"The End Is Where We Begin," and he placed the feather back in the ink. He sat there in silent contemplation, until the sun came up.
The guards nodded, and one bend over to check the body whether it was still alive. Funny how humans could act in such situations. "He's dead," said the guard, stating the obvious. "No pulse, no breathing and no use for us. Let's finish the job and dispose of his body." Together they picked up Mason's corpse and dragged it to the highest cliff of Torregiano where they threw it into the deap sea. There it would rot and serve as fish food or perhaps wash ashore somewhere, but this was of no concern to the Tripower anymore.
Meanwhile in the laboratory, Ror had installed the container in his latest experimental device. Originally he had intended to use it for materia experimentation, to help his fiancee. But a soul would do too. Having slotted the container into place he adjusted the crystals and runes a bit before starting. And so, in the early hours of the morning, the soul of Mason was subject to a torturous experiment in which Ror unravelled the soul like one would unravel a ball of yarn, or a spider web. The sage didn't look away. On contrary, there was a fire in his eyes that burned brightly as he watched the process of Mason's soul deliberately being pulled apart bit by bit by Ror's magic and equipment in this experiment.
And Ror learned as Mason's soul was torn apart and disintegrated. Never would it join the lifestream: its memories and essence lost forever, save the knowledge Ror learned in return. Such irony, thought Ror, that a man who would be known as the most incompetent leader the Tripower had ever seen, would serve the Kingdom one last time in his final hour.
After the last of Mason's soul had disintegrated into nothing for good, Ror switched the experiment off and sat down. "I need to write this down," he thought, and he grabbed his research journal to start making notes.
But instead he wrote down,"The End Is Where We Begin," and he placed the feather back in the ink. He sat there in silent contemplation, until the sun came up.
The End Is Where We Begin I/II
An officer stood before Ror's desk. Hands on his back, waiting. Behind the desk Ror was studying a six page internal report. There was a frown on the elf's face as he read the report carefully, and with each page the frown turned deeper. When he was done, he tossed the report on his desk and sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"Sir?" Asked the officer, and Ror raised his hand only to drop it back onto the leather armchair. After a moment, he let go of his nosebridge and eyed the report on the table. "So... Mason has been dealing with Vector..." The officer looked down at the report and then said, "Sir, there's more than that: allegations of corruption, power abuse, general negligence of duties..."
"I already knew Mason was incompetent," interjected Ror. "But that's something else than being a traitor." The officer fell silent, then curtly nodded. Ror waited, and let this sink in a bit. The officer forced to wait with him. After some time Ror made his decision and opened a desk drawer. Inside were two black leather gloves. He took them out and put the first of two on before the other. It was a tight fit. As he stood up, the officer said, "Sir?"
Ror ignored him for a moment as he took a black coat from the coatstand and wore it. Before exiting his office, he turned and said to the officer, "Tell Aneh she's been promoted to leadership. I'll deal with Mason." Ror's face was grim and serious. He closed the door behind him, leaving a saluting officer behind in his office.
The halls of the Tripower were silent as the lone figure of Mason skulked through them, until he eventually encountered clan guards. Ror watched from the shadows the display of bloody violence as Mason found his deserved end at the hands of the instructed guards.
On this world all life is connected to the Lifestream. In a way life itself borrows its existence from the Lifestream, to collect experiences and then - upon death - to return. Something Ror, as sage and as expert on this topic, was well aware of.
And so, as the first sword stabs pierced Mason, Ror stepped forth from the shadows behind Mason. Ror's dark cloak billowing and his eyes glowing a sinister blue from the magic he cast. A strange device like half a pair of glasses was on his face, and in his gloved hands a long metal chain. The chain swooped through the air and at its end was a crystal container. As Ror summoned magical energies, it started to spark. And in Mason's dying moment, Ror tore Mason's soul away from Mason's body and trapped it into the magical container.
The guards had stopped stabbing and now watched Ror finish the last of his druidic incantations. The magic made their neckhairs stand up. They were reluctant to act, allowing a large pool of blood to form around the corpse.
"Sir?" Asked the officer, and Ror raised his hand only to drop it back onto the leather armchair. After a moment, he let go of his nosebridge and eyed the report on the table. "So... Mason has been dealing with Vector..." The officer looked down at the report and then said, "Sir, there's more than that: allegations of corruption, power abuse, general negligence of duties..."
"I already knew Mason was incompetent," interjected Ror. "But that's something else than being a traitor." The officer fell silent, then curtly nodded. Ror waited, and let this sink in a bit. The officer forced to wait with him. After some time Ror made his decision and opened a desk drawer. Inside were two black leather gloves. He took them out and put the first of two on before the other. It was a tight fit. As he stood up, the officer said, "Sir?"
Ror ignored him for a moment as he took a black coat from the coatstand and wore it. Before exiting his office, he turned and said to the officer, "Tell Aneh she's been promoted to leadership. I'll deal with Mason." Ror's face was grim and serious. He closed the door behind him, leaving a saluting officer behind in his office.
The halls of the Tripower were silent as the lone figure of Mason skulked through them, until he eventually encountered clan guards. Ror watched from the shadows the display of bloody violence as Mason found his deserved end at the hands of the instructed guards.
On this world all life is connected to the Lifestream. In a way life itself borrows its existence from the Lifestream, to collect experiences and then - upon death - to return. Something Ror, as sage and as expert on this topic, was well aware of.
And so, as the first sword stabs pierced Mason, Ror stepped forth from the shadows behind Mason. Ror's dark cloak billowing and his eyes glowing a sinister blue from the magic he cast. A strange device like half a pair of glasses was on his face, and in his gloved hands a long metal chain. The chain swooped through the air and at its end was a crystal container. As Ror summoned magical energies, it started to spark. And in Mason's dying moment, Ror tore Mason's soul away from Mason's body and trapped it into the magical container.
The guards had stopped stabbing and now watched Ror finish the last of his druidic incantations. The magic made their neckhairs stand up. They were reluctant to act, allowing a large pool of blood to form around the corpse.
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