Father, Give Me Your Grace
[ Wicked Man's Rest by Passenger ]
"Mamae, I propose a trade of pieces..."
"You are up to something, always plotting."
"I only desire the return of my bishop Raoul."
"And what will you give me for him?"
"My knight Juma. Sangrey as you know him."
"You are asking me to betray the Wheatons, my own children-"
"In order to strengthen your rook Amavia, currently threatened by my knight.
A single injection of fel magic and my knight would tear your rook apart.
Or that knight could become yours, at the trivial cost of returning my bishop."
"And where will you place him once he is returned?"
Malshelon grabbed a fistful of the young man's hair and jerked his head back up, causing Raoul to choke on his own quiet prayers. His teeth began to chatter and the trembling in his gut made him sick. At first he tried to look to the side and meet Malshelon's gaze, but the pain made his eyes squeeze closed.
"Behind the other, Malshelon."
All the while Malshelon was barking in his ear.
"You're slouching! You're weak! Is this any way to pray to the LIGHT?!" He thrust Raoul forward again to release him. Though the young man tried to catch himself on his palms, his wrists gave in and his already bloodied face planted on the basement floor.
"If that piece is your only defense for him, then I will not have given him back for very long.
My knights will easily end this 'Malshelon'."
The pain shooting up his nose and chin was accentuated by the disappointment in Malshelon's sneering, "And you wonder why you can't call upon the Light... Why would it ever answer to someone as pathetic as you, boy? Someone who can't even show it the proper respect?! Is this how those little girls died? Just couldn't save them because your pansy hands gave out?"
"Mamae, you underestimate the power of my bishop."
For a second, Raoul entertained the idea of giving up and just laying there. He'd already been beaten badly in 'practice' and he just didn't know if he had the strength to do this. What did Dad say? It wasn't always about winning? Sometimes losing with class could make a girl swoon too?
He was tired of losing.
"AND YOU UNDERESTIMATE THE FEROCITY OF A PARENT!
Fine, take him! I will have him back soon enough."
Malshelon wasn't giving him any reprieve anyway. The larger man knelt down and lifted Raoul's head for him, yanking him by the hair again and forcing him to stare up at the altar. His free hand pointed a ruddy, knotted finger at the faintly glowing symbol.
"Look at you, groveling here like a pup that shit on master's carpet. Asking forgiveness for all the people you let die. Asking forgiveness for how WEAK you are. THE LIGHT DOESN'T FORGIVE, BOY. IT EXPECTS PERFECTION FROM THOSE WORTHY OF IT! ARE YOU WORTHY?"
Through gritted, red-stained teeth Raoul hissed, "No."
Malshelon's voice lowered to a burning depth that it sounded like a hot poker in Raoul's ears, "Can you be?"
"Yes..."
"I'll believe it when you get up and pray properly!" Malshelon didn't let go of his hair until Raoul had managed to straighten himself up on his own.
"And if I have sacrificed Raoul before then?"
Despite the pain, Raoul strained himself on bruised knees and held up trembling arms. He closed his eyes and tried to touch upon that inner peace. Discipline. Magic was the fount of chaos and by relying on it alone, he had been weakened during hours of need.
Sherry Whitefeather's voice rippled across his thoughts, Without magic my son, you are nothing.
"You will not have the chance. Lo! You have traded to me your own undoing!"
A rectangle of uneven light behind Malshelon and Raoul grew dimmer when a shadow shifted position at the window. Thankfully neither of them noticed they were being spied upon. Oblivious to it, they fell into prayer together.
It seemed Malshelon found Raoul's efforts acceptable... for now.
"I fail to see how Juma shall help you in any way except to spare your rook from immediate demise."
Juma pressed his nose against the glass. His eyes, glowing violet as a worgen, narrowed at what he was witnessing. He always knew Raoul was closed-minded and intolerant when it came to religion, but this seemed a little dramatic even for him. Spiritual well-being aside, it looked like Raoul was taking a beating on top of these daily 'scripture' lessons.
"You fail INDEED! Provide to your pieces manipulation, worm,
but I provide to my CHILDREN guidance and love. You do not understand the potential of it."
But what did he care anyway? Hell, it felt kind of nice watching Raoul get his ass kicked after Juma himself had been fed to the wolves... so to speak. Juma's ears swiveled at his own pun before pinning back against his head. And if Raoul finally crossed the line one day, he would have Amavia's affection to himself again.
"Love is capable of nothing that cannot be undermined by greed and ambition."
No, no, no, that was petty! Amavia cared about Raoul enough that Juma was forced to care about him too. But he couldn't tell Amy about this. If she'd thrown a fit about smoking he couldn't imagine what she'd do about something like this. And if Amavia pushed him, Raoul would only push back.
Juma jumped to his feet and covered his face with a clawed hand. His woman would only berate him for failing. He had no real mother or friends to turn to. And he certainly couldn't handle this on his OWN.
He needed his father. Despite what a terrible example of morality his father was, he would know what to do. He could fix this.
With one last glance to the basement window, Juma forgot if he had just been thinking about Raoul, or himself. His fur bristled to think about what Line might do to 'fix' this. But if Raoul was on the line, he knew Amavia would approve any measure. Just like she had asked him to kill Valerie Starlet.
BUT MURDER WAS NOT THE ANSWER HERE. IT WAS NOT THE FIX FOR EVERY PROBLEM. HE WAS NOT LINE.
He would find Raoul's father before it came to that.
"That is your folly, and the very reason you. will. lose."