"I do not think you understand. I do know you...and you know me. We have never liked one another. So why, you might ask, am I saving you from death? I am not. I am saving Adrian from death at your hand. I do not think you understand what the price of your suicide is... Without fire, there can be no darkness, for there would never be light to compare it too, and with no darkness, fire would not serve it's purpose to man. Should you die, be it by suicide or murder, then Adrian will die a slow and painful death with you. You cannot survive without one another. Should he die, the same fate will befall you..."
Posted on 2009-05-23 at 06:44:11.
Edited on 2009-05-23 at 06:45:11 by Babaloo
The vines released her, and cliff retracted, leaving her foot dangling off the edge.
"Then end your life. But know this, I will let you live for a few moments so that you may feel Adrian die. You can feel his pain, hear his screams...enjoy it...end both of your lives...end them now, so that I can move on with mine."
"Your love has been persuaded, but I will not take kindly to doing that again. More than unpleasant." Earth said to Adrian, "She has returned here to the garden, but I would prefer it if you were to leave her alone, I believe she has some issues to iron out with someone very important."
Adrian nodded at the unseen figure speaking to him and buried his hands in his hair, running them through his short locks before turning around a sighing with relief.
Posted on 2009-05-24 at 03:28:33.
Edited on 2009-05-24 at 03:30:03 by Babaloo
Poison winced. "Don't you dare use my mother's name in my house. She's dead, and it's your fault."
He stared at her. His eyes were the same shade as hers, but his hair had an indigo sheen to it. "Kinthera loved me. She loved me enough to bear my child. She loved me enough that she died for me, even though it was pointless. Do you love Adrian the same way your mother loved me?"
"My mother was a fool to ever fall for scum like you."
The Sword of Damocles....(mythilogical allusion btw)
Once again the sword felt cool in his hand. He ran his finger along the smooth line of tmapered silver in the center, traced the edge of the ruby tip with his palm, cutting himself in the process, and lightly tapped the gems encrusting the grip with his nails.
Odd how something so beautiful could be so deadly.
"You're a fool to fall for him. You have so much potential and you tie yourself down because of tradition. You know what would have happened if I had done that? I would be gay, and stuck with FIRE for all eternity." He wrinkled his nose in an expression that brought up the resembelance between them.
Her face remained cold. "Get out of my house now, or I will skin you alive and enjoy your agony every second." The threat wasn't empty: the fire in her eyes made that clear.
Her father stood and headed for the exit, stoppin in the doorway to turn and glance at her. "Forget love: it only hurts in the end." And he left.
Poison stood there for a few minutes, remembering her mother. Her favorite times, one memory clearer then the rest...
"Poison! Do not eat that!" Kinthera slapped the wrapper away from her face and scowled. "Do you want a belly ache?" Poison's answering giggle asured her that her daughter did, in fact, not care whatsoever. Kinthera sighed and started tickling her.
Poison laughed again and rolled around. Rolion stood in nearby, love so heartbreakingly clear in his eyes as he watched his child and his true love romp around. Poison smiled at him. "Look Momma, Daddy's too scared to come over here!"
"Well, the tickle monster hates scaredy cats!" Kintehra pounced on him. Poison joined in and in moments, all three were rolling around in a tickle war.
He took the hammer to the side of the sword, testing its strenght. He guessed it would shatter, his strenght in this form was immense. As the hammer fell onto it, a nright red flash lit up the room, probabaly visible through the entire garden. He flew backward and felt a surge of pain.
He looked down at the sword as it glinted back at him. Unscathed.
The flash pulled Poison into another, more painful memory...
"... Your husband has been sentenced to death for fathering a child he refuses to give up for her true detsiny." Lady Light had sympathy in her eyes as she told Kinthera of her beloved's future.
"No, no, no. You have it all wrong, please!" Her mother's cries were pointless. Lord Fire grasped Poison's tiny hand in his own. "C'mon kid."
"Where are we going Mister? Can't Momma and Daddy come too?" Poison asked. "Just trust me, we're gonna bring you to a better place now." Poison smiled.
"Okay then. Bye Mommy!" Poison waved and disspeared with Lord Fire. Her mother's scream did nothing to damper her spirit as she smiled brightly up at the man taking her away from the one thing she loved more then her own life.
He stood up slowly, grasping his head. The sword glinted back at him with cold indifference. It wasn't going to be destroyed any time soon. He smiled. At least it would take a lot of work to destroy it. He wondered if it was like that ring...from those books that he'd read a long time ago...not that anyone else would get that reference, but he decided to find out where the sword had been made. But how?
Poison stared at the picture on Lord Fire's lap. "That's your son? He looks scary..." She poked the picture of an indifferent looking little boy.
Lord Fire captured her hand. "Now behave." He growled. Poison nodded. "Yes Lord Fire." There was no such foolishness as a tickle war here.
She looked through one of the windows, into the yard, where Kinthera and Lady Light stood talking. Poison knew what it was about: Lady Light trying to talk Kinthera out of taking her husband's punishment. But her mother would not hear of it: her husband and child would live, even if she would not.
Strangely, Poison felt no sadness. Her heart was already hollow.
He traced his finger through one of the texts until he found it. The image on the paper was just like that of his sword.
The text read: "Dragonfire, the mythical sword of King Tyrius I, was the spark of many wars in the late Twelfth Age. The sword was rumored to have mystical powers, making it a target for bounty hunters and glory seekers. Throughout the reign of Tyrius, his life was threatened several thousans times, but each time he prevailed, keeping the sword and his kingship, in tact."
Adrian shook his head. Not enough information. This was a real world text, a history manual...it told him nothing about the sword. He picked up the next manuscript.
Posted on 2009-05-24 at 04:02:35.
Edited on 2009-05-24 at 04:03:49 by Babaloo
He had found what he was looking for in a piece titled "Magical Artifacts of the Three Realms"
The passage read: "The sword Dragonfire, the ancient artifact of the spirit of fire, was forged during the early Twelfth century by King Tyrius, the first embodiment of the element. Tyrius utilized ores from seven different mines. The blade was forged of Brightsteel, a mythical metal of indistructable quality. The supplies of brightsteel were so limited, only two weapons could be forged from them. Tyrius commisioned both. Dragonfire, along with it's sister weapon Annocneth, the bow of fire, were both tempered from brightsteel, the most flexible material known in existance. Dragonfire, the focus of this entry, was the chosen weapon of Tyrius, and he passed it down onto his descendants, who have held it ever since. The blade can collect the energy of those it kills or store the energy of whatever is placed into it and tranfer that power into a jet of searing flame that emerges from the ruby upon its tip. The blade can only be destroyed by one means..."
Roy turned the page, eager to see the solution.
He gasped...the page was gone. Someone had taken it.
Posted on 2009-05-24 at 04:13:09.
Edited on 2009-05-24 at 04:14:48 by Babaloo