Closing the large book, he let it fall ungraciously to the floor. He cast his eyes down at the black rock-like substance that was now his chest. Is that what he was now? A threat to the Planet? A virus? If there Lifestream had indeed been seperated from him, then why was he still alive? Closing his eyes he attempted in vain to work into another explaination...none came. Opening his eyes, he looked out with cold indifference at the ruined room, noting the black crystals which had formed on it's every edge. He spoke to an audience of only himself.
"What's done is done...now it's time to apply the findings I sought." Stepping past the rubble, he opened one of the heavy shutters upon his window, squinting as the morning light came streaming through. Opening his mind, to the world at large he sought out a single mind within the sea of minds which swam before him.
'Sanria...'
Amidst The Ruins (Part I-II)
The smell of smoke and burning flesh lay heavy upon the air. Occasionally a burst of flame would accompany an earth shaking jolt bringing forth the very sounds of shifting rubble. Within the blurred world in which such chaos was unleashed, the form of a tall man with long white hair could be made out. A long slender sword at the man's side glistened in the firelight, suggesting the promise of clean destruction and the sweet release of death. The strange man turned slightly, an unpleasant smile twisting at one corner of his mouth in the manner of one assured of their own superiority. Turning away, the man began to slowy transform...growing. And with him too grew the room, keeping to scale with the monstrosity which now lorded over the chamber. Completely gone was the white haired man, leaving now the horrific view of a creature massive in size. Bittersweet was the creature's aura, terrifying in power while at the same time exuding a strange air of comfort...comfort to those who served. A voice called out weakly. A voice that Throm barely recognized to be his own.
"Mother..."
The part of his mind which still grasped at the elusive foothold of reason ventured immediatly that it must certainly not be his mother of which he spoke. His own mother had passed back into the Lifestream many many years ago, and all that aside, her name held no reason to be here of all places. Yet another voice cooed smoothly into the darkness. Throm recognized this one as well, though it was most definately not his own.
"Yes...Mother. She was with you no doubt?"
Throm blinked his eyes hard. He grew weary of these dreams...too often was he finding himself within them these days. As his eyes began to focus on his surroundings, a dull numbing pain filled every corner of his body. He groaned aloud as he slowly sat up. He was in his Lab...or what remained of it rather. The large table which had spanned the course of his room, now was completely shattered. Probably shattered from his impact upon it, Throm noted as he sat directly center of the rubble. His mind reeled as he attempted to remember exactly what it might have been that brought him to this state. As his own memory went into overdrive, he caught sight of a cloaked figure hunched beside the now broken archway at the head of the room. Instinctively, Throm's hand shot to his side only to find that his sword had been knocked from his side in whatever catastrophe had occured here. Speaking, Throm's voice came out horse, and in a near whisper.
"Seventy Seven..."
Straightening the figure slowly shambled towards him, coming to a stop only when it'd come too close for Throm's own personal comfort. The figure too spoke in a whisper, though this one forced by the raspy nature of it's voice.
"I've been called worse."
"Have you come to set fire to the rest of my home?"
Drawing back slightly, the cloaked figure crossed it's arms about it's chest. When it spoke, it's voice approached that of an odd kind of reverence. "I apologize for anything I have done to cause harm to you. Please know that I did these before I knew us to be brethren joined by our Mother."
Throm stood shakily, gasping slightly at the increased pain. He leaned heavy upon an upright leg of the broken table. Bursting into an unexpected flurry of bitter laughter he shook his head.
"You are not my brother Seventy Seven...the notion that you and I share the same blood offends me. To the Nine Hells with you...you and you're Mom."
The cloaked figure drew back slightly as if surprised by Throm's response. Slowly stepped backwards towards the broken archway, and though Throm could not see it's face, he could hear the sneer in Seventy Seven's voice.
"Blood? No. However we no doubt share the same genetic material now..."
It raised a withered hand pointing directly at Throm's chest. The figure's breath came hollow and raggedy...perhaps in rage, perhaps in the effort of speaking so much.
"You put yourself so high above us uth Bannon. However, do note that none of those within my cast have given Black Makou to innocents...nor have we attacked the Lifestream directly as you have."
The figure chuckled, it's raspy voice appearing strained. Throm looked upon his own chest where Seventy Seven was pointing and saw that his very shirt had been blasted from his torso. To his horror he surveyed the onyx tone and texture which now glistened upon his chest as if a breastplate set within his body. The onyx faded and softened into his normal skin tones the further from the core of his chest his eyes scanned. The memories of the events that occured within the Lifestream flooded back to him all at once. Throm gasped again, though this time not in physical pain, but in the grim realization of what had transpired within the Planet's very core of life. Again the voice which held it's sneering tone, spoke up.
"So come down from your pedestal Cetra...for one who hates our cause so badly you seem ever so eager to flock to it..."
Without another sound, Seventy Seven stepped into the blackened archway it's folds enveloping him as he vanished completely. In stunned silence, Throm collapsed upon the broken boards of his former table, sitting forward. What had happened down there, continued to flood back to him in multiple waves. He had felt his complete disconnect with the Planet within the Lifestream itself. And it was at this point of disconnect that Throm's life had ended completely. He could never forget the hollow feeling of a body devoid of life as his own senses began to fail. This hollowness within him was replaced in short by something else however...something he couldn't quite place, but it was not of this Planet, of that he was certain. With much effort, he stood once more. Searching about the wreckage that used to be his Lab, he finally came upon that which he had searched for. Gripping the ancient leather bound tome in his hands, he carefully pulled open it's cover, delving into knowledge he had forsaken long ago. After but a few minutes he ceased turning the pages of the book as he came to a single passage.
'A human body...it does not catch the same cold twice. Why is this? It is because a body's immune system recognizes a threat and developes a defense against this threat. Each time the same threat attempts to attack the body the immune system immediately recognizes it as a previously marked threat and knows precisely how to fend such a virus off. The Planet is much the same in nature. Within her, is an immune system of great magnitude. Were every threat allowed unrestricted access to the Lifestream, a Planet would wither and die almost immediatly upon creation. When such a threat has been established, the Lifestream has been known to mark it as a 'virus', seperating any Lifestream within such a 'virus' before expelling it.'
"Mother..."
The part of his mind which still grasped at the elusive foothold of reason ventured immediatly that it must certainly not be his mother of which he spoke. His own mother had passed back into the Lifestream many many years ago, and all that aside, her name held no reason to be here of all places. Yet another voice cooed smoothly into the darkness. Throm recognized this one as well, though it was most definately not his own.
"Yes...Mother. She was with you no doubt?"
Throm blinked his eyes hard. He grew weary of these dreams...too often was he finding himself within them these days. As his eyes began to focus on his surroundings, a dull numbing pain filled every corner of his body. He groaned aloud as he slowly sat up. He was in his Lab...or what remained of it rather. The large table which had spanned the course of his room, now was completely shattered. Probably shattered from his impact upon it, Throm noted as he sat directly center of the rubble. His mind reeled as he attempted to remember exactly what it might have been that brought him to this state. As his own memory went into overdrive, he caught sight of a cloaked figure hunched beside the now broken archway at the head of the room. Instinctively, Throm's hand shot to his side only to find that his sword had been knocked from his side in whatever catastrophe had occured here. Speaking, Throm's voice came out horse, and in a near whisper.
"Seventy Seven..."
Straightening the figure slowly shambled towards him, coming to a stop only when it'd come too close for Throm's own personal comfort. The figure too spoke in a whisper, though this one forced by the raspy nature of it's voice.
"I've been called worse."
"Have you come to set fire to the rest of my home?"
Drawing back slightly, the cloaked figure crossed it's arms about it's chest. When it spoke, it's voice approached that of an odd kind of reverence. "I apologize for anything I have done to cause harm to you. Please know that I did these before I knew us to be brethren joined by our Mother."
Throm stood shakily, gasping slightly at the increased pain. He leaned heavy upon an upright leg of the broken table. Bursting into an unexpected flurry of bitter laughter he shook his head.
"You are not my brother Seventy Seven...the notion that you and I share the same blood offends me. To the Nine Hells with you...you and you're Mom."
The cloaked figure drew back slightly as if surprised by Throm's response. Slowly stepped backwards towards the broken archway, and though Throm could not see it's face, he could hear the sneer in Seventy Seven's voice.
"Blood? No. However we no doubt share the same genetic material now..."
It raised a withered hand pointing directly at Throm's chest. The figure's breath came hollow and raggedy...perhaps in rage, perhaps in the effort of speaking so much.
"You put yourself so high above us uth Bannon. However, do note that none of those within my cast have given Black Makou to innocents...nor have we attacked the Lifestream directly as you have."
The figure chuckled, it's raspy voice appearing strained. Throm looked upon his own chest where Seventy Seven was pointing and saw that his very shirt had been blasted from his torso. To his horror he surveyed the onyx tone and texture which now glistened upon his chest as if a breastplate set within his body. The onyx faded and softened into his normal skin tones the further from the core of his chest his eyes scanned. The memories of the events that occured within the Lifestream flooded back to him all at once. Throm gasped again, though this time not in physical pain, but in the grim realization of what had transpired within the Planet's very core of life. Again the voice which held it's sneering tone, spoke up.
"So come down from your pedestal Cetra...for one who hates our cause so badly you seem ever so eager to flock to it..."
Without another sound, Seventy Seven stepped into the blackened archway it's folds enveloping him as he vanished completely. In stunned silence, Throm collapsed upon the broken boards of his former table, sitting forward. What had happened down there, continued to flood back to him in multiple waves. He had felt his complete disconnect with the Planet within the Lifestream itself. And it was at this point of disconnect that Throm's life had ended completely. He could never forget the hollow feeling of a body devoid of life as his own senses began to fail. This hollowness within him was replaced in short by something else however...something he couldn't quite place, but it was not of this Planet, of that he was certain. With much effort, he stood once more. Searching about the wreckage that used to be his Lab, he finally came upon that which he had searched for. Gripping the ancient leather bound tome in his hands, he carefully pulled open it's cover, delving into knowledge he had forsaken long ago. After but a few minutes he ceased turning the pages of the book as he came to a single passage.
'A human body...it does not catch the same cold twice. Why is this? It is because a body's immune system recognizes a threat and developes a defense against this threat. Each time the same threat attempts to attack the body the immune system immediately recognizes it as a previously marked threat and knows precisely how to fend such a virus off. The Planet is much the same in nature. Within her, is an immune system of great magnitude. Were every threat allowed unrestricted access to the Lifestream, a Planet would wither and die almost immediatly upon creation. When such a threat has been established, the Lifestream has been known to mark it as a 'virus', seperating any Lifestream within such a 'virus' before expelling it.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)