InsaneJournal

Who: Raistlin Majere and NPC Dream Product Fistandantilus
What: Raistlin looses control
When: Tonight
Where: Raistlin's apartment
Rating/Warnings Low
Status: Complete narrative.



The apartment was so quiet. Raistlin liked quiet. He thrived in quiet. Normally. The mage did not want to believe it and would never admit it, but he’d gotten used to Tas’s constant interruptions, the chaos that he appeared to be eddy of, his noise. Now it was the silence that was distracting.

Raistlin stood in the middle of the living room, looking at the maps Tas had “acquired”, still hanging on the wall. To his cursed eyes they were half decayed, clinging to the walls with yellowed and brown tape, or warped nails and tacks. Along with those professionally done maps were a few that Tas had created himself. Even with his dead-eyes, Raistlin could still see the precision and care Tas had used to create them. The proof of the passion of his craft.

”What are you doing, boy?”

Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. He’d been feeling that cold presence stir more and more lately and along with it a sense of impatience that made him squirm. The Other was more active now than he ever had before. Tugging. Pulling. Wanting. Patience had run out.

”We have work to do.”

“I’m not doing any work tonight,” Raistlin answered.

Something twisted tight, like a fist clenching hard in his chest. Raistlin took a breath and gritted his teeth. A moment later it relaxed.and a wave of amusement that did not belong to Raistlin coursed over him.

”You miss the kender. How absurd. He was a distraction. A nuisance.”

Raistlin frowned. “He was not.”

The feeling of a fist clench tightened along Raistlin’s spine again. “He wasn’t your friend. He used you, syphoned from you. Just like all the others, boy. They aren’t your friends, they fear you as right they should.”

“I’m not that man from Krynn,” Raistlin grunted.

Raistlin felt the laugh deep within. ”You’ve been lying to yourself. You are every bit him. You are lonely and bitter. You are hungry for magic. You want the power it gives you.”

“You’re wrong,” Raistlin shook his head. He closed his eyes as though he could expel The Other through his own will. “I am not him,” he repeated through his teeth.

”Who are you trying to convince, boy?” The other asked. ”Me, or yourself? If you are trying to convince yourself, then you already know it to be true.”

Raistlin kept his eyes closed and he tried to shake his head again, but it felt fuzzy and light. Almost dizzy.

”You resent those who are stronger than you. You hate them for abusing and humiliating you. You have that with you even now all these years later. Just as you have in these Dreams of yours. You hated them so much, wanted so much to put them in their place when I offered you a deal, you readily accepted.”

Raistlin felt weak and fatigued. Something felt so off, but Raistlin was too dizzy, too out of sorts to understand what was happening to him. “You never offered me a deal,” he murmured. He reached out to steady himself against the sofa.

”Not here, perhaps,” came the response. ”But there I did. And you couldn’t accept fast enough.”

Raistlin was struggling to catch his breath. “I’m not accepting any deals. You’re just a byproduct of the dreams. A bleedover. I can and I will get rid of you.”

”I don’t think so.”

All at once Raistlin felt as though he was slammed backwards. He grasped the arm of the couch, but no matter how hard he tried to hang on, he felt as though he was being dragged away. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t breath. He opened his mouth to scream, but what came out was a bone chilling laugh.

”What are you doing?!” Raistlin tried to say, but he couldn’t hear his own voice anymore.

“You are pathetic, boy,” the response came, in Raistlin’s own voice, but smoother, calmer, lacking the gravel murmur that was his own.

The struggle was taxing, but short and silent. It was only a few moments before Raistlin raised from the cough again. He made his way towards the bathroom. Once there he glanced towards the mirror. There was no image of a rotting corpse looking back at him and the distinct sight of golden hour glass eyes.

Fistandantilus smiled. He finally had what he wanted.