Ivory and Horn (ivoryandhorn) wrote in fictunes, @ 2008-02-17 16:47:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | fandom: original, month: feb 08, writer: ivoryandhorn |
[Original] Vassal, Barakiel, worksafe
Title: Vassal
Fandom: Original (The City Adel)
Character: Barakiel
Rating: Worksafe
Warnings: some profanity
Music: Cloud Cult - "Living on the Outside of Your Skin"
Summary: This was the moment everything changed, even if he didn't know how.
Afterwards it was all basically a blur. He remembered crystal clear what happened before, definitely the afterwards, but the actual event itself? Fuck if he knows. Bitch probably wiped the memory on purpose. Collars were worth fuckall if the dog could get ‘em off itself.
“What the fuck did you do?” he’d demanded, but he’d been terrified, everything felt wrong, he’d stared at that sorrowing face and tried to muster—something, anything, something other than the gut-wrenching fear and the litany of OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK that echoed in his mind. “What did you—“
“Hush, Barakiel,” she’d said, and just like that, he’d shut up, he’d—he’d been unable to speak at all, significant parts of him were screaming and sobbing and he just—he couldn’t talk what the fuck nonono not happening, not happening—
“It was a regrettable action, Barakiel, but necessary,” she’d said, as if she actually believed the shit coming out of her mouth. “I have need of a champion…”
“So go find who wants to be a god’s precious little lapdog!” he’d snarled, or at least tried to, but the words weren’t coming nor the anger; it was the gut reaction of a cornered animal and even that felt slippery, hard to hold onto. “Why me?”
“Forgive me, Barakiel, but know that your sacrifice will not go unmourned,” she’d said.
“Sacrifice?” he’d demanded, panicking, lips still glued shut. “What sacrifice? What sacrifice?”
The goddess approached, and he flinched when she touched him, palm flat between his wings. “We will discuss this at a later date, Barakiel,” she murmured behind him. He was screaming inside; white hot bands were constricting around his magic and since he basically was made of magic…
“I hate you,” he tried to say, but the words lacked any bite even in his head and this, this scared him more than anything else, more than being jumped from behind by someone too powerful to be jumping people from behind, more than having a goddess’ sigil burned into his being.
“I have need of your services, Barakiel,” she continued. “One of my previous generals as lamentably chosen to defect to the service of frailer deities, and I fear none of my other servants, though trustworthy and loyal, are quite up to the task of bringing him to heel…”
“I am not your dog!” he’d screamed at her. It sounded more like a whine than any growl.
“Go now, Barakiel,” she said, and he’d felt his wings already stir in reply before he’d processed the command. “Find Shamshiel for me, and make clear your mistress’ displeasure.”
“Not your dog,” he insisted, but the wind moving past him as he moved out of the ruins into the ether plane told him otherwise.
“I place my trust in you, warrior of my light,” she’d said distantly, as he drifted away. “Do not return until he has paid the price of betrayal.” And then faintly, so he nearly didn’t hear, “My hand upon your heart.”
Notes: All I know is, I was pinged really hard for Barakiel. This...kind of wandered away from what I initially intended to do. I don't know if I got what I wanted across. Oh well.