| Woman's Best Friend |
[05 Mar 2008|04:42pm] |
The wolf-thing sleeping on the floor was dreaming. Of what, no one could say, for its intellect was limited to following simple commands, and of attacking whatever came too close to it. Its mottled hide was patched with fur in places, covered with scales in others, its massive head mis-shapen and leaking drool onto the cold stone floor. In the firelight, its forepaws would twitch intermittently, as if in slumber it fought great enemies and won.
On the opposite side of the room, Atia watched the beast sleep, studying the grotesque thing as lovingly as it she'd birthed it from her own womb. And in at least a metaphorical way, she had, since the creature had been with her for as many years as she had been in service to Leviathan. Servant, acolyte, herald, slave, all in one mutated form. Loyal, if only because it was far too stupid to think for itself.
( Not Exactly a Kal-Kan Dog )
When she was finished, she rose to her feet and pointed at the far wall, where a bright blue portal opened to crackle in midair. What had once been Marius loped in a shambling gait across the unforgiving floor, then disappeared through the tear in reality. Atia smiled thinly. All obstacles in her path would be cut down in fron of her life chaff in a wheat field.
Starting now.
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| Salvation |
[05 Mar 2008|10:08pm] |
In the unspoiled landscape of Nevada, it was possible for Rhiannon to do a thing she only dreamed of, when first able to drive. She took her car on the long, straight road, its engine a singular whine on the night silence, farther and farther, until only patches of orange haze reminded her of faraway towns. Out so far, the roads were lined and weathered like old skin, and dusted with grains of sand that made the surface harder for tires to grip.
She had something terrible to do. It was a volatile act of summoning, one that would unleash a nightmare creature upon the world. It was best to be alone, so that she'd be the only casualty if it went badly, a thing she could only accomplish by driving for miles, until the gasoline tank reached the halfway point. Any farther and she'd not have enough to make it back.
On the journey, she rolled down the windows and filled the car with the smell of the desert. A bundle of dark cloth nestled in the crook of her passenger seat. Rhiannon reached for it once and felt along the inside, making certain of its sharpness. Her fingertip came away bloodied.
The way to perform the ritual had been shown by Elfleda. Instructions were singed onto paper so that demonic eyes would not know of their writing. Rhiannon was to call into her presence Atia's most sacred pet -- her Champion, the wolf Marius -- and use her new weapon, an untested blade, to slay it. .
The moon was a round lantern in the sky when the highway ended and became an unmarked road. Rhiannon got out of the car. She crouched and emptied her backpack. She was meticulous in her placement of altar pieces: a black candle, jagged bits of obsidian in a wide ring, and her blade that was black from hilt to tip, as if it had been painted with tar. Reopening the nick on her index finger, she waited for blood to bead and then sketched crude shapes in the sand. She tossed the cloth towards the car and hesitated with her thumb against her lighter.
The instinct she felt most clearly was a great urge to pray, but to invoke God's name before calling on Evil was an insult she wouldn't make.
The yellow licking of fire against candle wick began the ritual. Once wax pooled at the base of the flame, Rhiannon tipped the column. She let the wet rivulets dot the channels of each symbol she had drawn in the soil. The process was slow. A sulfuric wind began to blow at the close of it, making the candle sputter.
"Marius, guardian of the hearth,
I call thee."
The wind sharpened, an acrid stench that stung her nostrils. As if superheated from below , the obsidian bits melted in their spots and ran like ink. The pitch-colored lines became snakes that hissed and wound sideways across the bleached earth. Rhiannon scrambled up and watched them slither. She struggled not to cry out when one hooked round her ankle, a temporary vice that squeezed and then let go. She tucked her fingers into her palms and forgot herself for a moment.
Could she make it to the car? Get the keys in the ignition fast enough?
A howl cut through the interference in her brain.
Rhiannon found her nerve and reached into the writhing heap for her weapon. As she grabbed it, the blade's shape was transformed. It became broad and long, a sword encapsulated in ethereal light, purplish in hue. The Slayer admired it, feeling both possessive of it and possessed by it. She swung it in an arc and got a feel for the sword's weight. It fit her naturally, becoming an extension of Rhiannon's arm, a violent thought realized. At the sluicing sound, the snakes scattered, and Marius, a beast of hard scales and matted fur, entered the realm at a gallop.
[Thread: Open to Marius and Designated Others]
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