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Mama

 
This forum is locked: you cannot post, reply to, or edit topics.   This topic is locked: you cannot edit posts or make replies.   printer-friendly view    Red Dragon Inn - Dragon's Mark Forum Index -> The Catacombs -> Storm in Skin
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Crispin
Black Leather Knight
Ancient Wyrm
Ancient Wyrm


Joined: 30 Jun 2013
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 03, 2018 6:09 am    Post subject: Mama Reply with quote

Oh mama what have I gone and done?
With all these years that I've been gone
My life changed me way too fast
I don't know if I could last

Oh mama if you could've only seen
Everything I've done and where I've been
If only one thing I would ask
Why did you let me grow up so goddamn fast?

Godsmack -- Mama





January 3

2:38am









Click. Scrape. Quiet grunt. "… … S'… S'Cris."







"Hello."







Huff----

CLICK
_________________


"A gentle boy with a gentle soul,
but every soul contains its own
opposite, and the opposite of
gentleness was ruthlessness:
the beautiful wreckage of mercy."
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Crispin
Black Leather Knight
Ancient Wyrm
Ancient Wyrm


Joined: 30 Jun 2013
Posts: 660
See this user's pet
Jobs: Undertaker, Sword for Hire
Can Be Found: With effort.
11799.54 Silver Crowns

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PostPosted: Wed Jan 03, 2018 11:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Seven minutes later





"Who is this?"









Hissing. "No… No----- No! It can't be."



"Who is this?"









"You can't be… … …"

CLICK
_________________


"A gentle boy with a gentle soul,
but every soul contains its own
opposite, and the opposite of
gentleness was ruthlessness:
the beautiful wreckage of mercy."
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View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
Crispin
Black Leather Knight
Ancient Wyrm
Ancient Wyrm


Joined: 30 Jun 2013
Posts: 660
See this user's pet
Jobs: Undertaker, Sword for Hire
Can Be Found: With effort.
11799.54 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Thu Jan 04, 2018 1:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Early, Wednesday morning




3am. A time for silence and peaceful rest. Neither of which are to be had any longer, not by the Nephilim penning a hasty missive to a Fallen whose whereabouts she did not know. It could be earlier, wherever he was. It could be later. He could be indisposed, or at rest. For all she knew, he could be in the throes of a task that required stealth and discretion, and had little room for a burning fireball of Parisian stationary, a spray of watercolored lavender sprouting from the page's bottom right corner renders it deceptively feminine for the battle scarred hand it comes from.

Amaranthe Ashwood does not care.

Punctuating the note with a heavily blotted period, she slams down her fountain pen and trades it for a stele. The sheet of paper, its ink still wet, goes up in flames. Her hand free of it, she sits back against the white wooden slats of her seat, and waits.

When it finds its mark, burning in reverse, the lone, sloppy sentence reads:

You told us he was dead.

The sun was setting, melting into the horizon. Bleeding colors painted snow covered mountains in red. He was somewhere, that was for sure. Arms folded across his chest, Theron stared out the window adrift in his thoughts. Adrift until a tiny pouffe of flame reminded him that he should be in the present.

Reading the words, he closed his eyes and let his chin fall. A selfish moment, truth be told but he has been taking them more recently. For his own and none other. Hands to his face, he scrubbed what weary away. Two days growth scratched his palms rough.

His phone was on the edge of the desk behind him. Turning, he reached for it.

-ringringring, Amaranthe-

Neither Nephilim had taken to the technological revolution. The powder white, spiral corded phone jangles on the wall behind her. She jumps, leaping from her seat and makes it there before her husband can say a word to stay her. The phone does not get to its second ring. She puts it to her ear, hisses through teeth that touch at their smooth edges. "Explain yourself."

"Amaranthe." It was a greeting, a hymn, an apology that was not his own to make. "Where would you like me to start?"

Breathing. Thin, at first, then it gets heavier. Quicker. Until a feminine bark prefaces the solid thunk of a fist against the wall. "The beginning! You told us he was dead, you came------you came to my home...... You said that my son was dead. Why is it, then, that I hear his voice, alive and well? What cruelty have you brought down upon us....?"

"He was, and now he is not." There was the silence of a pause, nothing in the background. Not a thing. The entire world fell away. "The cruelty lies within the truth of how I can say that I understand how you feel."

"So we come full circle, then, Theron. Explain yourself. How did you come to know this? How did you know at the start?" a question she'd asked him plenty of times already.

Bells, faintly. Could she hear them in the wind? "Leena."

An exhale, followed by a muffled, "Angel above......." Then, more evenly, "So she's.....?"

Thirteen beats later, the strength of Amaranthe’s lilting voice dims under a patina of disbelief. , "No. No. No, that can't be. That can't be. How do you know, Theron, how do you know that it is her? How do you know that it is him? How do you know!?"

"I've seen her with my own eyes. I've spoken with her. I've touched her." He paused. "I have done the same with Crispin."

"Looks can be deceiving, Theron,” Silence. The phone clicks in a too tight grip, but the voice that comes, crystal clear and temperate as a deep lake, no longer shakes. "Where have you seen them? How long ago?"

"Leena has been with Crispin for years." Years as small as the number was. Time was precious. "She left me this morning. She spoke with him just weeks ago. As we live and breathe, I saw him last winter doing none other than the same."

Silence, though it carries weight, even over a telephone line. The kind of quiet that pads unspoken communication, done through expression, facial ticks and the rare, mouthed word. "I cannot help but notice that you have yet to answer one question. Where, Theron? Where did you see them?"

Silence was met with the silence of nothing. Weightless was to the weight that reached through the phone and settled around the Fallen's already heavy heart. "I can not tell you that. I will tell you that your son is as alive as my daughter. Whatever choices they made bear weight on their souls. They wear them as we do ours."

All it does is make their journey a step or two longer, perhaps a bit more complicated, but Amaranthe does not care about the challenge. Nor, in this moment, does she care about the Clave. They have one lead yet open to them, and given the Fallen's unwillingness to cooperate, it is a lead he does not need to know about. "Fine. But know this, Theron, this matter is far.....far from finished. You may have had the benefit of looking upon them with your own eyes, but the eyes can be tricked. Looks can be deceiving," she repeats. "Your Father knew that. We will not make the same mistake."

She does not wait for a reply, slamming the receiver down.

The line goes dead.



(Thank you, Wild Card!)
_________________


"A gentle boy with a gentle soul,
but every soul contains its own
opposite, and the opposite of
gentleness was ruthlessness:
the beautiful wreckage of mercy."
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View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
Crispin
Black Leather Knight
Ancient Wyrm
Ancient Wyrm


Joined: 30 Jun 2013
Posts: 660
See this user's pet
Jobs: Undertaker, Sword for Hire
Can Be Found: With effort.
11799.54 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Mon Jan 15, 2018 4:25 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Later



Crispin's phone rings.

The third time in the same night his phone has gone off and spit out an “unavailable” number, he answers it, presses it to his ear and muscles past a steadily growing tide of irritation.
"I can't help you if you tell me nothing," soft, urgent. "Your name, where you are......something, anything that might help me."

"Crispin."









"Theron…" Those four seconds had been enough to sharpen his tone. The phone clicks. "If you'd been the one that called just now, you would have announced yourself, I presume. This isn't a coincidence, is it."

"No. I just spoke with your mother. They know."









"Angel's mercy......." Softer, "I didn't-----I thought the voice sounded feminine, but it-----it was too soft, too swift to glean anything else..... Why? Have....... What happened....?"

"I am unaware of anything having occurred. She contacted me with a fire message. I returned with a phone call. She told me she heard your voice. I confirmed. Asking her how she had come to know this wasn't an option."









Exhale. Shifting, his voice comes again from a short distance, "Did it go as you suspected it would?" The reaction his "living state," he means.

"For the most part, yes. I'm still waiting for her to show on my doorstep."

"Does she-----"
"I didn't tell her where you were."

His exhale heaves, heavily, free of him.









"Did it seem as though she may try to find out?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. She knows about Leena as well."

"I didn't tell her," quickly.

"I know. I know you would never." He paused. "I did."









"If she's the same as I remember, likely she didn't give you much choice. Theron, what does this mean? What am I to do, with this?"

"Prepare yourself. She is your mother, Crispin. There is not a doubt in my mind that she won't figure it out and come for you."









"Come for what?"

"Proof that you live? Based off what you'd said earlier, I'm going to assume that you've had phone calls. She told me she heard your voice."

"Recently, yes. As in within minutes of this call we're presently sharing. They woke me."









"The number she's using comes up as yours does. I didn't know who was on the other end of the line, they did not speak much, nor remain longer than a few seconds, each time."







"Theron, You know the beliefs of my people regarding what it is I've been through. You mentioned that you thought it would be a something of a bad idea to let them in on this. I followed that suggestion with all of my ability, at the time. If she comes------and if the proof she's looking for does not suit her......"

"I still stand by that. I am unaware how she got a hold of your number. She was fairly insistent in how sure I was that I had seen and spoken to you, so yes. I feel her beliefs are intact. I would say, prepare for anything."

"She has it. Years ago.......shortly after Leena and I reunited. She said she'd attempted to contact me in the last place she'd known me to be, and that was at home. In Alicante, my family's manor, and if those messages did not get through, then something may have happened to them, and I asked Salome...........I asked her to look into their whereabouts for me."









"We traded information. We've spoken some, since then......my number has not changed."







"If she truly intends to come here, she's likely to start there. But she'll find herself up against a dead end. I don't know how much time that gives me."







"Have you any idea if she's coming for Leena, too?"

"I don't know what prompted her to even attempt to call you after the last she was aware of your...state. Something, someone had to have led her to this.

"I didn't intend to tell her of Leena. But considering the situation, the means, I wanted her to know should--an encounter come about whether it be accidental, purposeful, or what not.

"I'm calling Leena as well."








"You know that if you try to restrain her, she'll merely buck your authority and do the exact opposite."

"There is a difference between restraint and guidance. To have the ability to choose is to have free will. We are only responsible for our own." he said. He would know. "I'm letting her know what I've told you."









"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Crispin."

CLICK




(Thank you, Wild Card!)
_________________


"A gentle boy with a gentle soul,
but every soul contains its own
opposite, and the opposite of
gentleness was ruthlessness:
the beautiful wreckage of mercy."
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
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