introducing... Mikael.
some know and remember. some do not. upon semi-request, or rather, an offer of reading, i'm reposting some old Mika stuff.
old writings from the e-fed, Mikael was a character i'd played in other roleplaying games before, as had been Elizabeth... i've had these characters in my head, in my heart, for over half a decade now. scary.
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~~~~
Running through endless halls, with white marble walls that stretched forever onwards, seeming to reach into the heavens themselves. As if he were an ant in a mansion, everything seemed disproportionate, and every single sound echoed loudly. Corvin ran ahead of him, a reflection of himself, yet darker. Skin naturally dark, lightened to an ashen brown by the curse, hair jet black trailing behind him.
"I WILL have her, you son of a b****!" Corvin yelled over his shoulder, as Mikael tried desperately to catch up to him.
"Not over my..." Mikael could not even complete the cliche statement as the walls melted away into darkness, and Corvin stopped running, but instead stood at the edge of a precipice. A blur of motion, and copper hair streaming, long as a veil, surrounding them entirely. Elizabeth's form coalesced between the two, her eyes almost pleading, wet with tears.
"I've failed..." she whispered, her voice caught up in a roaring wind.
Mikael stood frozen, not even able to move his hands, as the copper strands wrapped around Corvin, then tugged her back towards him, casting both bodies over the edge and into darkness.
Mikael was suddenly looking over, watching the fall. He had not walked, he had not moved... yet... he could see her plummeting to depths unknown, dragged under into blackness alongside Corvin.
~~~~
"Elizabeth," he gasped as the grip of sleep released him. Knuckles white as they gripped sheets soaked with blood-tinged sweat, Mikael was frozen again. The cold shock of pure terror washing through him in waves, he could do nothing but stare at the wall for a moment. Absorbing the images, her words, her words... her eyes and her tears...
~~~~
"What the hell are you calling me for, I told ya she'll be back when..." Lillian sounded slightly groggy, even though it was already an hour past sunset, Mikael had surmised that he had awakened her.
"Where is she?" Mikael demanded feverishly.
"Don't get your boxers in a bunch, Mike, she's with Val, she'll be fine..."
"Do not EVER call me that, and do not EVER try to patronize me, something is very wrong, and you know full well that Elizabeth has her share of powerful enemies," his nails were digging into the soft flesh of palms, making tiny bloody crescents, then healing... leaving a smear of blood to dry. He knew it was his fault that Corvin was among those enemies. His foolish words, his stupid need to share something of himself with a being incapable of comprehension. A being incapable of love or even the understanding thereof.
".... sorry..." annoyance in her tone was apparent, but Lillian wasn't one to take a verbal beating to heart. She also didn't take too kindly to being woken up before a time SHE deemed appropriate. Especially from people she barely knew that really? Weren't important to her personally. But she put aside her usual snide comments for the moment, and remained silent, waiting for the man on the other end of the phone to just get to the point. Lillian hated being the go-between, especially by the end of the conversation.
"Where have they gone?"
~~~
From the familiar surroundings of Mikael Konietzko's dressing room, the shot stays still, the subject sitting down on the ornate wooden chair, leaning back against leather padding, Mikael's eyes finding the camera. Resting his hands loosely on knees folded beneath him, his expression does not reveal the turmoil raging inside his mind. Obligations had to be fulfilled in so many directions, he felt as if he was being dismembered by the different lives he was trying to lead.
"Mr. Ace, should I be honoured by being considered one of your toughest opponents? Comparable to the Reaper himself? How appropriate, that. For I have managed to escape the Reaper, and I have managed to occupy him many a time. Yes, countless times indeed. The Herd has bled, the Herd has suffered and cried out in agony at the atrocities committed by myself and those I could claim responsibility for. Those who followed orders of mine many years ago. Oh how the mighty have fallen, oh how the mighty have risen..." a hint of melancholy reflection, Mikael tilts his head back, letting it rest for a moment on the back of the chair.
A sigh escapes pale lips before he continues, "for here I am now, bandying words and trading blows with those I would consider below me. I am in the midst of... Kine. Surrounded by the very stench of a race fallen from grace, devouring itself from the inside out, destroying all that encroach upon its ideal... caring not for the order of the world. Caring not for the balance between Gaia, Wyrm and Weaver. The balance will be restored, as an unwilling agent of the Wyrm, it is my duty... the Herd shall be culled, and I am the Shepherd... the Shepherd awaits you once more, Mr. Ace..."
His expression becomes cold again, focused and void. His broad shoulders stiffen, and hands weave together tightly before him.
"...perhaps if you wish to taste true insanity, the very tearing of one's fragile concept of reality, the rending of morals, ideals and any semblance of humanity... I can lead you down that road. For I know it well..."
Mikael plugged the digital camera into an old VCR, then let the footage record as he arranged his ring-attire on the leather seat of a chair.
All bases covered, all loose ends tied, for now. The tape labeled, then delivered to one of the crewmen, his work was done for the moment. For the time being. He had other business to attend to, far more pressing needs.
~~~~
It had been a relatively easy task of navigating the compound, even though it was surrounded by armed guards and a high wall lined in barbed wire. Rituals were a useful thing, especially when one involved Incorporeal Passage. The ability to cast aside the physical form, moving undetected by normal vision, and unhindered by the boundaries of physical barricades.
Once inside, Mikael made his way through countless halls, until he reached the lowest levels of the excavation site disguised as a mining project. A large steel door, at each end a tall pillar with conductors of some sort at the top. The door itself was six inches thick, at least, from what Mikael could surmise, with a magnetic seal and a hand-scanner and retinal scan were located in a console three feet in front of it. The whole thing made him wonder... what had he gotten himself into?
Circumventing the door entirely, he opted for the wall instead. God knows what that sort of magnetic force would do to unstable particles... especially when those particles comprised his very existence at the moment. Sinking into the thick concrete, then stepping back out after the discomfiting feeling of cold stone completely surrounding every part of his being, it was like stepping through into a different world.
Loose earth piled in mounds, various tools scattered on the hard-packed soil. And... a tunnel. Wooden supports kept it from collapsing in the midst of excavation, and Mikael put away the shard of mirror he had been carrying this entire time, the Ritual over. Back in his physical form, slightly drained from sustaining the incorporeal form, he descended.
The boards creaked under his weight as he climbed, further and further into the musty smell of ancient secrets. The tunnel ended, and he came into a chamber dimly lit, several oil lamps had been left burning, casting eerie shadows with flickering light. The chamber was small, rounded, and the walls covered in hieroglyphs. No furniture or other such remains were to be found, only a disc of golden hue in the center, large enough for... not much. Perhaps room enough to stand on.
Inspecting the glyphs, Mikael fought back the urge to try and do a read on the mysterious disc, to see if any trace of passage was evident. Who knew what sort of energy was contained in this place.
A series of glyphs seemed to call to him, and as he translated the ancient script as best he could, he finally understood. This was indeed a portal. To what could very well be an ancient temple from days when Caine walked the earth. Were it not for the panic racing through him still, elation would have consumed him instead. Yet this discovery was barren, was hollow, until he knew where She was and that She was safe. Yet, Elizabeth was in there, from what he could wager. From the highest hopes. For had she not gone this far? It was doubtful she would be left alive had she and her companion be caught trespassing upon this place.
Steadying himself for a moment, Mikael cleared his thoughts as he stepped onto the disc and recited what he hoped was the correct translation. Letting out a yell of shock and surprise, Mikael winced as a bright light shone upon him, slightly searing his very flesh. And in a flash, the light was gone, and he stood upon the disc. As he regained his bearings and composure, he started to wonder if that had achieved anything at all. Other than what one may call a "tan"... looking down at his hands, the hue of his skin had taken on a golden cast, and suddenly he became very aware of the fact that rayon blends in fabric scraped and chafed against tender skin.
With a shake of his head, he stepped off the disc. Then realization sunk in. The tunnel, the supports, the little flecks of dirt from the excavation were gone. This room was whole... and the smell was different. Not the smell of a thing recently uncovered.
A large door stood in place of the crumbled stone that had been there in the portal he'd entered... about fifty feet tall, in his estimation. Gazing up, he was slightly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the thing. Yet memories of the images he'd seen pressed urgently, and he wasted little time gawking like a tourist. It took all his strength to push the door open, and what was revealed threatened to cast his mind into insanity itself.
It had not been the images of an overactive subconscious exaggerating things in a symbolic manner... the walls did reach up higher than he'd seen in the largest cathedral. The stones were bigger than he, pale white almost shining with their own light. Blinding in their purity, without a single speck of imperfection, the halls of this place were constructed from these fantastic stones, as was the floor.
~What kind of being would have such a place constructed...~
That one thought kept going through his mind as he took in his surroundings. Yet the distant echo of voices, audible perhaps only to his finely tuned senses, pulled at him stronger than any gravitational force. Breaking into a full-on mad-dash, his feet barely made a sound on the stone floors as he passed countless stones and doorways, all as non-descript as the other, all uniform and utterly confusing.
After what could've been yards or inches of travel, one hall looking the same as the other, he had come closer... much closer... the voices.
"Where did you hide it?" one demanded threateningly, obviously male. Low, dangerous, and slightly gravelly, the voice seemed vaguely familiar.
"I would rather gnaw at my own wrist until I severed every single vein than disclose that information to YOU," the voice filled Mikael's ears, and he felt a great weight constricting upon his chest. Eyes widened, and his mouth was agape, though he would not have known that for the life of him. Frozen for a moment, thrown off completely by the barrage of emotion assaulting him harder than any physical attack.
~What if She realizes what you've become, what you've betrayed, that you lied, you lied you lied you LIED you betrayed her you betrayed the one promise you made and She will know that you are not who you claim to be, you are not even CLOSE to the man She loved, you are a creature far more vile than anything imagined, you are the Wyrm's messenger and right hand, you are unworthy, you are NOTHING~
But She was something, something more, and everything. And if She did recoil from him? From what he had become? It would probably wither away any desire to continue this life, but if only he could prevent what had been shown, perhaps that would be Redemption enough.
"Well... then I guess I will just have to glean that information from your mind as it leaves that pretty little body of yours, Liz..."
"Perhaps that is your only choice," her voice, like so much healing balm upon Mikael's fractured mind, was full of resignation. With supernatural speed, Mikael turned the corner, rushing blindly at the direction of the threatening voice. Before he could strike, before thought turned into cohesive thought rather than scraps of information randomly coalescing, he was stopped mid-stride by an invisible force.
Corvin's eyes met his, and Corvin sneered derisively.
"Mika..." Elizabeth gasped, staring at him as if seeing a ghost. Her wrists were bound, not by cloth or material or metal, but molded into themselves, the skin pulled tight around deformed bone. Corvin's work, no doubt. She lay crumpled on the floor, staring up at him with a mix of disbelief, hope and desperation in wide blue eyes. The gleaming copper strands he remembered so well, disheveled, tangled, matted with dried blood.
"So glad you could join us, Romeo... you have no idea how happy I am to see you..." another man greeted, fangs gleaming wickedly through a cold grin. He stood at just about seven feet, his massive arms covered in runes of vampiric potency, ritualistically burned into the immortal, unchanging flesh. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his back, loose and slightly unkempt. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and they stared at Mikael with an interest resembling that of a scientist inspecting an experiment. Detached. Analytical. Not of this world, and no world would want him. Not Dragonsnake.
~Not Dragonsnake~ Mikael's mind dimly echoed.
This was far from the tearful reunion Mikael had imagined, hoped for, wished for. Tearful, yes. But not the right type of tears, and the sinking feeling of dread was not something he had expected either. Or the very fear for his unlife.
"Can not say the same for you, Kinslayer..." Mikael hissed through clenched teeth, barely containing the rage that was building to levels that clouded his very vision. The invisible force still held him at bay, but his will was fighting it. Fighting fang and nail. It was Corvin who had restrained him so. He had beaten him at this game before, and Mikael had to do it again. Or else? He was at the non-existent mercy of these two.
"Oh, Romeo, always the angry one. One ill turn deserves another, and... I only took what was appropriate," a humourless smirk, not at all reaching the dark eyes of Dragonsnake.
"In... your... estimation..." Mikael's brow furrowed, the crease growing deep and adding a feral edge to his growl, a slight hint of the Beast within, perhaps. Lips curled up, almost snarling. Blinded by hatred, Mikael could barely focus his thoughts on speech, let alone bandying words with this abomination. He felt something stirring, losing grip on coherent thought, his vision darkening, skin tearing as bone tore through flesh, blood running down his hands. Bone protruded further and further, inch by inch, from each knuckle came forth a sharp, glistening claw, white as bone, still glistening with his own blood. At the smell of it, his vision went black.
Elizabeth watched, stunned and trying to fit the pieces together somehow, wondering if perhaps this was a hallucination born out of desperation, a way to escape the torture and questions.
The Beast had won the battle this time, overtaken anything even slightly resembling human nature. With the added surge of unadulterated rage, Mikael's will broke through Corvin's unseen bonds, and he leaped into the air, descending upon Dragonsnake instead.
Yet Dragonsnake's instincts were quicker, and with one swipe of a massive arm, he brushed aside Mikael's assault. Fine white stone cracked as he hit back-first, tumbling onto the ground. Not even a second passed before Mikael had jumped to his feet, and charged again. Yet this time, Corvin reacted. Brandishing a bastard sword, gleaming steel arcing through the air intent on more than just a display or show, Corvin's aim would have been true, had Mikael not used a variation of a baseball slide to dodge out of the way. The blade still dug deep into his shoulder as Mikael sank his claws into Corvin's back.
Dragonsnake had moved aside for a moment, looking to be intent on something, lips moving vaguely. Elizabeth snapped out of her apparent trance, and even though she was rendered partially immobile, her shape became a blur, as if seen in fast-forward, as it whipped up from the floor and collided with Dragonsnake's. The blur then continued, charging past and down a hallway, away from the scene.
Mikael came out of the thrall of the Beast, brought back by the agony in his shoulder. Vision cleared, and somehow, both his opponents were down for a moment. But Elizabeth was gone.
Panic, relief, and worry rushed through him at once, but they had to be brushed aside, since Dragonsnake had seemingly disappeared. A pool of blood remained, rather large, and the sound of hissing and sputtering came from beneath it, from the very stone itself. Smoke rose from the blood, and it moved, by its own accord, towards Mikael.
"Shit!" Mikael spat the word out, wondering what cruel gods had decided to hate him tonight. Ripping the jacket he'd been wearing, one side already hanging by several threads due to Corvin's swordsmanship, with one hand, his right hand searched his pocket. And the puddle hissed, moving closer, leaving a black bubbly mass behind it. Fishing out a zippo lighter, Mikael flicked it open with one hand, igniting the jacket. For once rayon being flammable was a beneficial thing rather than not. Throwing the flaming cloth onto the puddle, he watched as the smell of burning cloth, scorched stone, and blood mixed unpleasantly in his nostrils.
Just as he thought, perhaps he had the upper hand, a hand fastened onto his neck, and the sensation of his own bone grinding and tearing through flesh ravaged his body. Strength waning, he sank down to his knees, at the mercy of Corvin standing behind him, practicing the craft that he'd taught Mikael decades ago.
Passing into darkness again, not able to heal the damage as quickly as it was inflicted, losing too much blood, Mikael came to the realization that it was over. Faintly, a whisper of sound was caught before he fell full into shadow.
Footsteps. Running. Towards them.
Black.
old writings from the e-fed, Mikael was a character i'd played in other roleplaying games before, as had been Elizabeth... i've had these characters in my head, in my heart, for over half a decade now. scary.
----------
~~~~
Running through endless halls, with white marble walls that stretched forever onwards, seeming to reach into the heavens themselves. As if he were an ant in a mansion, everything seemed disproportionate, and every single sound echoed loudly. Corvin ran ahead of him, a reflection of himself, yet darker. Skin naturally dark, lightened to an ashen brown by the curse, hair jet black trailing behind him.
"I WILL have her, you son of a b****!" Corvin yelled over his shoulder, as Mikael tried desperately to catch up to him.
"Not over my..." Mikael could not even complete the cliche statement as the walls melted away into darkness, and Corvin stopped running, but instead stood at the edge of a precipice. A blur of motion, and copper hair streaming, long as a veil, surrounding them entirely. Elizabeth's form coalesced between the two, her eyes almost pleading, wet with tears.
"I've failed..." she whispered, her voice caught up in a roaring wind.
Mikael stood frozen, not even able to move his hands, as the copper strands wrapped around Corvin, then tugged her back towards him, casting both bodies over the edge and into darkness.
Mikael was suddenly looking over, watching the fall. He had not walked, he had not moved... yet... he could see her plummeting to depths unknown, dragged under into blackness alongside Corvin.
~~~~
"Elizabeth," he gasped as the grip of sleep released him. Knuckles white as they gripped sheets soaked with blood-tinged sweat, Mikael was frozen again. The cold shock of pure terror washing through him in waves, he could do nothing but stare at the wall for a moment. Absorbing the images, her words, her words... her eyes and her tears...
~~~~
"What the hell are you calling me for, I told ya she'll be back when..." Lillian sounded slightly groggy, even though it was already an hour past sunset, Mikael had surmised that he had awakened her.
"Where is she?" Mikael demanded feverishly.
"Don't get your boxers in a bunch, Mike, she's with Val, she'll be fine..."
"Do not EVER call me that, and do not EVER try to patronize me, something is very wrong, and you know full well that Elizabeth has her share of powerful enemies," his nails were digging into the soft flesh of palms, making tiny bloody crescents, then healing... leaving a smear of blood to dry. He knew it was his fault that Corvin was among those enemies. His foolish words, his stupid need to share something of himself with a being incapable of comprehension. A being incapable of love or even the understanding thereof.
".... sorry..." annoyance in her tone was apparent, but Lillian wasn't one to take a verbal beating to heart. She also didn't take too kindly to being woken up before a time SHE deemed appropriate. Especially from people she barely knew that really? Weren't important to her personally. But she put aside her usual snide comments for the moment, and remained silent, waiting for the man on the other end of the phone to just get to the point. Lillian hated being the go-between, especially by the end of the conversation.
"Where have they gone?"
~~~
From the familiar surroundings of Mikael Konietzko's dressing room, the shot stays still, the subject sitting down on the ornate wooden chair, leaning back against leather padding, Mikael's eyes finding the camera. Resting his hands loosely on knees folded beneath him, his expression does not reveal the turmoil raging inside his mind. Obligations had to be fulfilled in so many directions, he felt as if he was being dismembered by the different lives he was trying to lead.
"Mr. Ace, should I be honoured by being considered one of your toughest opponents? Comparable to the Reaper himself? How appropriate, that. For I have managed to escape the Reaper, and I have managed to occupy him many a time. Yes, countless times indeed. The Herd has bled, the Herd has suffered and cried out in agony at the atrocities committed by myself and those I could claim responsibility for. Those who followed orders of mine many years ago. Oh how the mighty have fallen, oh how the mighty have risen..." a hint of melancholy reflection, Mikael tilts his head back, letting it rest for a moment on the back of the chair.
A sigh escapes pale lips before he continues, "for here I am now, bandying words and trading blows with those I would consider below me. I am in the midst of... Kine. Surrounded by the very stench of a race fallen from grace, devouring itself from the inside out, destroying all that encroach upon its ideal... caring not for the order of the world. Caring not for the balance between Gaia, Wyrm and Weaver. The balance will be restored, as an unwilling agent of the Wyrm, it is my duty... the Herd shall be culled, and I am the Shepherd... the Shepherd awaits you once more, Mr. Ace..."
His expression becomes cold again, focused and void. His broad shoulders stiffen, and hands weave together tightly before him.
"...perhaps if you wish to taste true insanity, the very tearing of one's fragile concept of reality, the rending of morals, ideals and any semblance of humanity... I can lead you down that road. For I know it well..."
Mikael plugged the digital camera into an old VCR, then let the footage record as he arranged his ring-attire on the leather seat of a chair.
All bases covered, all loose ends tied, for now. The tape labeled, then delivered to one of the crewmen, his work was done for the moment. For the time being. He had other business to attend to, far more pressing needs.
~~~~
It had been a relatively easy task of navigating the compound, even though it was surrounded by armed guards and a high wall lined in barbed wire. Rituals were a useful thing, especially when one involved Incorporeal Passage. The ability to cast aside the physical form, moving undetected by normal vision, and unhindered by the boundaries of physical barricades.
Once inside, Mikael made his way through countless halls, until he reached the lowest levels of the excavation site disguised as a mining project. A large steel door, at each end a tall pillar with conductors of some sort at the top. The door itself was six inches thick, at least, from what Mikael could surmise, with a magnetic seal and a hand-scanner and retinal scan were located in a console three feet in front of it. The whole thing made him wonder... what had he gotten himself into?
Circumventing the door entirely, he opted for the wall instead. God knows what that sort of magnetic force would do to unstable particles... especially when those particles comprised his very existence at the moment. Sinking into the thick concrete, then stepping back out after the discomfiting feeling of cold stone completely surrounding every part of his being, it was like stepping through into a different world.
Loose earth piled in mounds, various tools scattered on the hard-packed soil. And... a tunnel. Wooden supports kept it from collapsing in the midst of excavation, and Mikael put away the shard of mirror he had been carrying this entire time, the Ritual over. Back in his physical form, slightly drained from sustaining the incorporeal form, he descended.
The boards creaked under his weight as he climbed, further and further into the musty smell of ancient secrets. The tunnel ended, and he came into a chamber dimly lit, several oil lamps had been left burning, casting eerie shadows with flickering light. The chamber was small, rounded, and the walls covered in hieroglyphs. No furniture or other such remains were to be found, only a disc of golden hue in the center, large enough for... not much. Perhaps room enough to stand on.
Inspecting the glyphs, Mikael fought back the urge to try and do a read on the mysterious disc, to see if any trace of passage was evident. Who knew what sort of energy was contained in this place.
A series of glyphs seemed to call to him, and as he translated the ancient script as best he could, he finally understood. This was indeed a portal. To what could very well be an ancient temple from days when Caine walked the earth. Were it not for the panic racing through him still, elation would have consumed him instead. Yet this discovery was barren, was hollow, until he knew where She was and that She was safe. Yet, Elizabeth was in there, from what he could wager. From the highest hopes. For had she not gone this far? It was doubtful she would be left alive had she and her companion be caught trespassing upon this place.
Steadying himself for a moment, Mikael cleared his thoughts as he stepped onto the disc and recited what he hoped was the correct translation. Letting out a yell of shock and surprise, Mikael winced as a bright light shone upon him, slightly searing his very flesh. And in a flash, the light was gone, and he stood upon the disc. As he regained his bearings and composure, he started to wonder if that had achieved anything at all. Other than what one may call a "tan"... looking down at his hands, the hue of his skin had taken on a golden cast, and suddenly he became very aware of the fact that rayon blends in fabric scraped and chafed against tender skin.
With a shake of his head, he stepped off the disc. Then realization sunk in. The tunnel, the supports, the little flecks of dirt from the excavation were gone. This room was whole... and the smell was different. Not the smell of a thing recently uncovered.
A large door stood in place of the crumbled stone that had been there in the portal he'd entered... about fifty feet tall, in his estimation. Gazing up, he was slightly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the thing. Yet memories of the images he'd seen pressed urgently, and he wasted little time gawking like a tourist. It took all his strength to push the door open, and what was revealed threatened to cast his mind into insanity itself.
It had not been the images of an overactive subconscious exaggerating things in a symbolic manner... the walls did reach up higher than he'd seen in the largest cathedral. The stones were bigger than he, pale white almost shining with their own light. Blinding in their purity, without a single speck of imperfection, the halls of this place were constructed from these fantastic stones, as was the floor.
~What kind of being would have such a place constructed...~
That one thought kept going through his mind as he took in his surroundings. Yet the distant echo of voices, audible perhaps only to his finely tuned senses, pulled at him stronger than any gravitational force. Breaking into a full-on mad-dash, his feet barely made a sound on the stone floors as he passed countless stones and doorways, all as non-descript as the other, all uniform and utterly confusing.
After what could've been yards or inches of travel, one hall looking the same as the other, he had come closer... much closer... the voices.
"Where did you hide it?" one demanded threateningly, obviously male. Low, dangerous, and slightly gravelly, the voice seemed vaguely familiar.
"I would rather gnaw at my own wrist until I severed every single vein than disclose that information to YOU," the voice filled Mikael's ears, and he felt a great weight constricting upon his chest. Eyes widened, and his mouth was agape, though he would not have known that for the life of him. Frozen for a moment, thrown off completely by the barrage of emotion assaulting him harder than any physical attack.
~What if She realizes what you've become, what you've betrayed, that you lied, you lied you lied you LIED you betrayed her you betrayed the one promise you made and She will know that you are not who you claim to be, you are not even CLOSE to the man She loved, you are a creature far more vile than anything imagined, you are the Wyrm's messenger and right hand, you are unworthy, you are NOTHING~
But She was something, something more, and everything. And if She did recoil from him? From what he had become? It would probably wither away any desire to continue this life, but if only he could prevent what had been shown, perhaps that would be Redemption enough.
"Well... then I guess I will just have to glean that information from your mind as it leaves that pretty little body of yours, Liz..."
"Perhaps that is your only choice," her voice, like so much healing balm upon Mikael's fractured mind, was full of resignation. With supernatural speed, Mikael turned the corner, rushing blindly at the direction of the threatening voice. Before he could strike, before thought turned into cohesive thought rather than scraps of information randomly coalescing, he was stopped mid-stride by an invisible force.
Corvin's eyes met his, and Corvin sneered derisively.
"Mika..." Elizabeth gasped, staring at him as if seeing a ghost. Her wrists were bound, not by cloth or material or metal, but molded into themselves, the skin pulled tight around deformed bone. Corvin's work, no doubt. She lay crumpled on the floor, staring up at him with a mix of disbelief, hope and desperation in wide blue eyes. The gleaming copper strands he remembered so well, disheveled, tangled, matted with dried blood.
"So glad you could join us, Romeo... you have no idea how happy I am to see you..." another man greeted, fangs gleaming wickedly through a cold grin. He stood at just about seven feet, his massive arms covered in runes of vampiric potency, ritualistically burned into the immortal, unchanging flesh. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his back, loose and slightly unkempt. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and they stared at Mikael with an interest resembling that of a scientist inspecting an experiment. Detached. Analytical. Not of this world, and no world would want him. Not Dragonsnake.
~Not Dragonsnake~ Mikael's mind dimly echoed.
This was far from the tearful reunion Mikael had imagined, hoped for, wished for. Tearful, yes. But not the right type of tears, and the sinking feeling of dread was not something he had expected either. Or the very fear for his unlife.
"Can not say the same for you, Kinslayer..." Mikael hissed through clenched teeth, barely containing the rage that was building to levels that clouded his very vision. The invisible force still held him at bay, but his will was fighting it. Fighting fang and nail. It was Corvin who had restrained him so. He had beaten him at this game before, and Mikael had to do it again. Or else? He was at the non-existent mercy of these two.
"Oh, Romeo, always the angry one. One ill turn deserves another, and... I only took what was appropriate," a humourless smirk, not at all reaching the dark eyes of Dragonsnake.
"In... your... estimation..." Mikael's brow furrowed, the crease growing deep and adding a feral edge to his growl, a slight hint of the Beast within, perhaps. Lips curled up, almost snarling. Blinded by hatred, Mikael could barely focus his thoughts on speech, let alone bandying words with this abomination. He felt something stirring, losing grip on coherent thought, his vision darkening, skin tearing as bone tore through flesh, blood running down his hands. Bone protruded further and further, inch by inch, from each knuckle came forth a sharp, glistening claw, white as bone, still glistening with his own blood. At the smell of it, his vision went black.
Elizabeth watched, stunned and trying to fit the pieces together somehow, wondering if perhaps this was a hallucination born out of desperation, a way to escape the torture and questions.
The Beast had won the battle this time, overtaken anything even slightly resembling human nature. With the added surge of unadulterated rage, Mikael's will broke through Corvin's unseen bonds, and he leaped into the air, descending upon Dragonsnake instead.
Yet Dragonsnake's instincts were quicker, and with one swipe of a massive arm, he brushed aside Mikael's assault. Fine white stone cracked as he hit back-first, tumbling onto the ground. Not even a second passed before Mikael had jumped to his feet, and charged again. Yet this time, Corvin reacted. Brandishing a bastard sword, gleaming steel arcing through the air intent on more than just a display or show, Corvin's aim would have been true, had Mikael not used a variation of a baseball slide to dodge out of the way. The blade still dug deep into his shoulder as Mikael sank his claws into Corvin's back.
Dragonsnake had moved aside for a moment, looking to be intent on something, lips moving vaguely. Elizabeth snapped out of her apparent trance, and even though she was rendered partially immobile, her shape became a blur, as if seen in fast-forward, as it whipped up from the floor and collided with Dragonsnake's. The blur then continued, charging past and down a hallway, away from the scene.
Mikael came out of the thrall of the Beast, brought back by the agony in his shoulder. Vision cleared, and somehow, both his opponents were down for a moment. But Elizabeth was gone.
Panic, relief, and worry rushed through him at once, but they had to be brushed aside, since Dragonsnake had seemingly disappeared. A pool of blood remained, rather large, and the sound of hissing and sputtering came from beneath it, from the very stone itself. Smoke rose from the blood, and it moved, by its own accord, towards Mikael.
"Shit!" Mikael spat the word out, wondering what cruel gods had decided to hate him tonight. Ripping the jacket he'd been wearing, one side already hanging by several threads due to Corvin's swordsmanship, with one hand, his right hand searched his pocket. And the puddle hissed, moving closer, leaving a black bubbly mass behind it. Fishing out a zippo lighter, Mikael flicked it open with one hand, igniting the jacket. For once rayon being flammable was a beneficial thing rather than not. Throwing the flaming cloth onto the puddle, he watched as the smell of burning cloth, scorched stone, and blood mixed unpleasantly in his nostrils.
Just as he thought, perhaps he had the upper hand, a hand fastened onto his neck, and the sensation of his own bone grinding and tearing through flesh ravaged his body. Strength waning, he sank down to his knees, at the mercy of Corvin standing behind him, practicing the craft that he'd taught Mikael decades ago.
Passing into darkness again, not able to heal the damage as quickly as it was inflicted, losing too much blood, Mikael came to the realization that it was over. Faintly, a whisper of sound was caught before he fell full into shadow.
Footsteps. Running. Towards them.
Black.