(no subject)
"We know that it is satire, Sillybird. There are some things that are beyond the pale. To do this, even in jest, is not to be tolerated. We shall respond."
His familiar watched, over his shoulder, as the man worked on his response.
~~~
After some consideration and consultation with some colleagues, I've started a new project. I require the addresses for everyone's sanctum, please. This is a 3 step, joint Guardian-Mysterium project. In the interest of being as transparent as possible, the three step process is as follows:
Step 1: Give me addresses.
Step 2: ???
Step 3: Profit!
I regret to say I can't go into more detail as of yet, mystic patents pending and all. But you can trust me, I promise.
Felix, as a show of good faith, since I told you where I call home, why don't you start us all off?
Anderson
Certainly. I had two of them: The Hotel Composure in Mykonos, Greece, where I was residing with an Ordermate of yours, one Scarecrow by name, until her sudden and tragic death and the mysterious destruction of the complex, and the one I currently reside in, a quiet little place located in Atlantic City.
I share it with Ildiko, of course, and I have Vitrea and her children as next door neighbors. If you'd like a specific street address, I'm sure either of them would be happy to give it to you once you explained your reasonings.
Satire aside, of course, you'll have to remember that unauthorized Visus intrusion into either the house of myself or my family will constitute a violation of agreements sworn between Magisters of your order and mine. It would likely be a race to see which one of the three of us actually killed your body, but I can personally attest as to exactly how I'd entertain myself with your Awakened soul while your meat was being otherwise disposed of.
Do you want to keep playing your satirical games, Anderson? It is a free Nation, after all, but I would highly recommend a refresher in recent history before you decide to start something that no one else, to date, has been able to finish.
Your move.
Felix
~~~
The response, of course, was not surprising. It was satire. He was joking. Felix was overreacting. And, from their limited viewpoint, the argument made sense. But none of them could understand the unique mania that gripped the senior-most active Magister, this affliction that Sleepers would toss aside as another case of PTSD, as if initials could possibly convey the scope of his existence. And thus, a single case of explanation, before he gave up the affections of his youth, his former life...
~~~
It appears that I have given some of my... peers... a shade too much credit.
In the interest of proper inter-Order relations, I will attempt to clarify.
After being challenged by PacketRat, I responded with a dissertation regarding the virtue of Hope. Those who missed it can obtain a copy by visiting International Insomniac Association archives.
Later, as I conducted my oblations, I learned that my words had been seen favorably by the Oracles, and I slept deeply, without nightmare, and woke up refreshed, and inspired. I brought forth the first step of this idea to those who sit as Magistros, as Magistressa, ready to create instead of destroy, bring forth instead of kill, filled with the innocence of my youth, and believing that all things were possible. And the response?
Derision. Mockery. Open hostility. Fear.
Some of it to be understood, certainly. When I stated that `I know that one day, however many decades or centuries into the future that it takes, we shall see stone remain upon stone, that what is flawed will be whole, what is false will be true, and that which Atlantis should have been will come to pass`... I knew that these words would not please everyone, and I was prepared for no small degree of antagonism.
And yet, the sheer virulence of the response surprised me.
Threaten me? Fine. I will either laugh it off, turn to the Duel Arcane, or invoke the Right of Nemesis and blot you off the planet. More than likely the former, but the threat of the latter two has proven to be enough to stop most serious manifestations of any overt hostility.
Threaten my blood? Ildiko? My cousin Vitrea? My niece Eleanor? Her other children? Ginny, or Tony, or Lily? You would put them in harm's way? Raphael put it nicely. "Seriously, don't go there. Trust me." I am anything but nice. Do so and you not only invite upon yourself the very atrocity that will linger on in the memory of this generation as to loom, like a pending avalanche, over the head of anyone that would even so much as think of repeating one of the last mistakes you ever made in an existence free of misery and abomination... you demand it.
"Oh. But we never really meant it."
"It was obvious that I was making a point."
"You deserve nothing better than to be treated in this fashion."
"Words are only words, and if you took them seriously, then the lulz are at your expense."
Are you proud, now? You sons and daughters of Atlantis? You heirs of a fallen City?
And I thought PacketRat the child.
You would DARE?
It took a concentrated strike force of some of the Nation's finest to deal with the last Magister of the Vox Draconis who saw no problem in murdering his peers to achieve his goals.
It took a murderous cabal that had this Nation shivering in fear to deal with me... and that was before I truly came into mine own.
It took twelve of you in concert to call for my interrogation regarding my Return, my knowledge concerning the Abyss, and my reasoning behind the judgement and execution of Rook... and still you failed.
I am Acanthus. Blessed by the Queen of Air and Darkness, bearing Her approval upon hands that will never wash clean. The Lunargent Thorn, gleaming moonsilver even as it pierces flesh. Both the shining and the shadow, the dancer and the dance. You would plunge yourself into the thistles, and blame me for the consequences? Me? Having lived through induction into a second Order, prepared to leave all that he once was behind for the sake of those he loved and the Nation he died for, aware that at any moment someone could step forth from the shadows to slay him anew? Who survived that which would shatter you, outwitted Those who would have you beg for annihilation, who bears the weight of each death of she who loved him upon his blighted soul? You would jest of that which I dare never drop my guard against occurring, knowing that there are myriad foes that would strike against me through those I care for, taunting the traumatized survivor of the Scepter wars with one of his worse fears... and for what?
Worse than children. Fools. Grown so attached to the Lie that you would play such silly Sleeper games when dealing with fellow keepers of Supernal truth. So be it. Ridicule me. Disparage me. Toss this message aside with an offhanded quip. Set yourself against me should you dare possess the courage of your convictions, the spine to go with your snark. Remember this, those who choose to oppose me, and know what it is you have done.
The question was asked: "You are a Magister of the Silver Ladder. Certainly that must mean something?"
Aye. That it does. Observe my work, and learn what this generation has forgotten. I will succeed in my efforts, for the good of the Nation, and thank those who assisted me in such. But I will not forget those who, when I came with open hand, asking for assistance in a duty of the Silver Ladder that I can not discuss until it is concluded, chose instead to remind me of just how unworthy some of you are to life in comparison with those I have buried.
Enjoy your semantics. Toast yourself in victory, smug in the knowledge that you have revealed me for what I am. Relish the fact that it did not have to be this way, but your weakness has reminded me of the cost my service entails, and that such blind optimism, such hope, appears to have no place upon this body.
In innocence I came to you, and while that grace may only be restored by those I serve, I will continue to try again. Even now, I keep my right hand open, ready to extend in cooperation with those of my peers upon this body who disdain such base tactics, and are willing to work for the betterment of the Nation. Those who prefer the closed fist of my left hand will obtain their desires, and should the day come when their empty threats and hollow taunts manifest beyond spoken jibes and careless scribble into something that I deem bears actual weight?
So be it.
Magister Felix "Legion" Wordsworth
Magistros, Vox Draconis
~~~
He came to them, for a blessed moment free of the chains of his own forging, and approached his peers for information which could form the foundation of a great work for the good of the Nation... and they kicked his teeth in, and laughed at his pain.
So be it, indeed.