[Requiem-Theodoric] Iced Earth "Watching Over Me" (meme)
~I had a friend many years ago/ One tragic night he died/ The saddest time of my life/ For weeks and weeks I cried/ Through the anger and through the tears/ I've felt his spirit through the years/ I'd swear, He's watching me/ Guiding me through hard times~
She smiled less after the Oath swearing and service taking. When the smile was displayed it was a paler one, like the song was sung far away and heard only in echoes. Theodoric lived for the moments of her smile, the happiness or even simply contentment echoing down through his bond to her. To know he had succeeded in his tasks or anticipated the new direction their lives had taken in service to His Lordship.
Each night he watched her actions until he could mimic them and then again until he could take over for her. He heard the gossip of the thralls in service and shared their whispered criticisms and unintentional advice so that both of them could avoid falling short of the demands service required.
~I feel it once again/ It's overwhelming me/ His spirit's like the winds/ The angel guarding me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me~
"No, my Lord. It was my mistake." The rasp in his voice covered the quiver of anticipation and fear. Failure was unnacceptable, the lesson taught over and over through the years until the fear of disappointment alone could cause terrors that made sleep a hell to endure. Deliberatly engineering that failure was as unthinkable as suicide; an unforgivable and mortal sin.
Except to spare her from his unforgivable and unjustifiable wrath.
The blow lifted him from his feet, stars glittering and obscuring vision, the ringing in his ears deafening. His slight frame had only just thudded again to the floor before another lifted him up and out, into the wall with a firmness that spoke of broken ribs. Without thought he willed himself passive, accepting the beating as only what he deserved and slipped away into the haze of pain for what seemed to be forever.
It took almost everything he had to stumble back to his room and change clothes when the beating was done. One of the other thralls would clean up the blood, never speaking of the scene for fear of being the next to pull such a beating down upon their own hides. Buttons and laces took forever, careful trickles of vitae to eyes and face working their healing magics oh so slowly. Tight bandaging over his ribs would keep them in place, and stop the incessiant sting with each breath.
Straightening, tugging one sleeve down to cover bruises he could not afford to use vitae to heal after all it had taken to heal his face, Theodoric smiled faintly as she slipped in.
"No, he didn't ask after you at all. His Lordship was quite busy and distracted this evening with minor matters."
~We shared dreams like all best friends/ Blood brothers at the age of ten/ We lived reckless, he paid the price/ But why? Why did he have to die?/ It still hurts me to this day/ Am I selfish for feeling this way?/ I know he's an angel now/ Together we'll be someday~
Theodoric pulled himself fully upright, muscles taunt and straining against rail thin bones. "Who is the senior Ghoul here?" The words grated, throat sore from alternating weeping and screaming. Flat hate for the other ghoul who belonged to Him. "Ship it, goddamnit. Or I shall torture you until only hell will take you for your disfigurements." The blasphemy came as easily as the fury did, with as little thought or worry to how it affected his soul. Anything to avoid the knowledge that the centerpoint of his life was gone.
All that mattered was her, and the bond was there but silent. The silence threatened to consume him, a falling bottomless spiral of failure and loneliness. So much to do, hearing the whispers of thralls and careless neonates who forgot ghouls had ears. His Lordship was likely to be attacked within the next few years and a servant of his would have no welcome within the city after that.
Which meant other arrangements, arrangements his Lordship didn't think to prohibit as he'd never known that the castrato had ever been a rogue freelancing ghoul. The records had to be moved, those things deemed important and cared for by her before she had been so cruelly silenced...
Shut away in his room, Theodoric picked up the viola so that there would be something beyond the silence. Nero had fiddled while Rome burned...
~I feel it once again/ It's overwhelming me/ His spirit's like the wind/ The angel guarding me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me~
One Century, Five months and three days.
The whispers and flashes of emotion within his blood, from his sire and grandsire were distant; swept behind the silent melancholy that had dogged Theodoric's steps for countless years. Neither noticed him any longer, by design for what servant was worth their job if they were always visably under foot? But his sire had subtly pushed him from the haven to become something 'else' and so previous minstrations were unwelcome. His Grandsire was a cold and distant monster behind her facade of stupidity and never seemed to wish service.
The pen made scratching noises on the paper, like the soft rustling of a sleeping bird's wings. With slow and neat care, letters became words and words paragraphs and paragraphs pages of information of mortal and Kindred worlds. The Chronicler was missing or slept still and until she woke or was found someone must update her texts.
She smiled less after the Oath swearing and service taking. When the smile was displayed it was a paler one, like the song was sung far away and heard only in echoes. Theodoric lived for the moments of her smile, the happiness or even simply contentment echoing down through his bond to her. To know he had succeeded in his tasks or anticipated the new direction their lives had taken in service to His Lordship.
Each night he watched her actions until he could mimic them and then again until he could take over for her. He heard the gossip of the thralls in service and shared their whispered criticisms and unintentional advice so that both of them could avoid falling short of the demands service required.
~I feel it once again/ It's overwhelming me/ His spirit's like the winds/ The angel guarding me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me~
"No, my Lord. It was my mistake." The rasp in his voice covered the quiver of anticipation and fear. Failure was unnacceptable, the lesson taught over and over through the years until the fear of disappointment alone could cause terrors that made sleep a hell to endure. Deliberatly engineering that failure was as unthinkable as suicide; an unforgivable and mortal sin.
Except to spare her from his unforgivable and unjustifiable wrath.
The blow lifted him from his feet, stars glittering and obscuring vision, the ringing in his ears deafening. His slight frame had only just thudded again to the floor before another lifted him up and out, into the wall with a firmness that spoke of broken ribs. Without thought he willed himself passive, accepting the beating as only what he deserved and slipped away into the haze of pain for what seemed to be forever.
It took almost everything he had to stumble back to his room and change clothes when the beating was done. One of the other thralls would clean up the blood, never speaking of the scene for fear of being the next to pull such a beating down upon their own hides. Buttons and laces took forever, careful trickles of vitae to eyes and face working their healing magics oh so slowly. Tight bandaging over his ribs would keep them in place, and stop the incessiant sting with each breath.
Straightening, tugging one sleeve down to cover bruises he could not afford to use vitae to heal after all it had taken to heal his face, Theodoric smiled faintly as she slipped in.
"No, he didn't ask after you at all. His Lordship was quite busy and distracted this evening with minor matters."
~We shared dreams like all best friends/ Blood brothers at the age of ten/ We lived reckless, he paid the price/ But why? Why did he have to die?/ It still hurts me to this day/ Am I selfish for feeling this way?/ I know he's an angel now/ Together we'll be someday~
Theodoric pulled himself fully upright, muscles taunt and straining against rail thin bones. "Who is the senior Ghoul here?" The words grated, throat sore from alternating weeping and screaming. Flat hate for the other ghoul who belonged to Him. "Ship it, goddamnit. Or I shall torture you until only hell will take you for your disfigurements." The blasphemy came as easily as the fury did, with as little thought or worry to how it affected his soul. Anything to avoid the knowledge that the centerpoint of his life was gone.
All that mattered was her, and the bond was there but silent. The silence threatened to consume him, a falling bottomless spiral of failure and loneliness. So much to do, hearing the whispers of thralls and careless neonates who forgot ghouls had ears. His Lordship was likely to be attacked within the next few years and a servant of his would have no welcome within the city after that.
Which meant other arrangements, arrangements his Lordship didn't think to prohibit as he'd never known that the castrato had ever been a rogue freelancing ghoul. The records had to be moved, those things deemed important and cared for by her before she had been so cruelly silenced...
Shut away in his room, Theodoric picked up the viola so that there would be something beyond the silence. Nero had fiddled while Rome burned...
~I feel it once again/ It's overwhelming me/ His spirit's like the wind/ The angel guarding me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me/ Oh, I know, oh, I know/ He's watching over me~
One Century, Five months and three days.
The whispers and flashes of emotion within his blood, from his sire and grandsire were distant; swept behind the silent melancholy that had dogged Theodoric's steps for countless years. Neither noticed him any longer, by design for what servant was worth their job if they were always visably under foot? But his sire had subtly pushed him from the haven to become something 'else' and so previous minstrations were unwelcome. His Grandsire was a cold and distant monster behind her facade of stupidity and never seemed to wish service.
The pen made scratching noises on the paper, like the soft rustling of a sleeping bird's wings. With slow and neat care, letters became words and words paragraphs and paragraphs pages of information of mortal and Kindred worlds. The Chronicler was missing or slept still and until she woke or was found someone must update her texts.