#184: Changes
OOC: Rachel is not really in this dream, but Sinister!Mun borrowed the Phoenix with the permission of Rachel!Mun :-)
Nathaniel is seated at a dark granite table. He is sitting, cross-legged, on the floor. On the table before him is a sterling silver tea-set and a chess board.
Across from him sits En Sabah Nur. Apocalypse.
"Sinister." Apocalypse's voice sounds like it always did. Metal gears grating against each other, some empty darkness gathering beneath clipped, unaccented syllables.
"Hello," Nathaniel says, sipping his tea. It tastes strange. He looks down and thinks maybe it is blood. Or oil. Whatever it is, it is entirely unpleasant. "I surmise this is a dream?"
"Yes. I sleep amongst the stars." Apocalypse leans forward, hands on the table. "Not forever, Sinister. I will return."
"Pity. And I shall defeat you again." Nathaniel puts his cup down. "I am something of an expert at it," he says, a bit cockily.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you shall join me. I offered you something you wanted, once. Perchance you shall want it again. The firebrand of the Grey family has ruined you, Sinister."
Nathaniel looks down at the chess board. There is something about the pieces that are not right. The black queen is levitating, and she has wings. She touches the knights and they burn to cinders beneath her flames. She approaches the black bishop, who has glowing red eyes and a diamond etched into the piece.
Apocalypse reaches out with his finger, and moves the bishop away from the queen's burning wings. "She makes you burn, Essex. Like you did before I allowed you my merciful touch." The white queen flies across the board, and falls to its side in front of the bishop. "Women have a way of undermining your composure. It makes you weak. I made you strong, before. I could make you strong again."
The black king rises into the air and hovers over the bishop. "Would you not give your soul again, to me, to end your torment?"
Nathaniel looks up from the board, into the flat eyes of his hated master. "No. You shall never yoke me again. There is nothing you can promise me that would be of an allure."
"I would not say that so quickly, Essex. So much pain. Her death..." Apocalypse's mouth curves up into what is supposed to be a smile. "Do you not remember?"
The scene changes. Nathaniel is human, and he is on the ground. Holding Rebecca in his arms. She is bleeding, between her thighs, bleeding away the life within.
I only wanted to save the baby. And you, from the pain of Adam's death. I would have done anything for you.
"It's always a woman with you, Essex." Apocalypse is dressed as Nathaniel remembers him; ornate dress, holding a golden scepter. Looking like some Eastern potentate with a kingdom laid out before him. Nathaniel had thought he was nothing more than some wealthy bored sultan, finding amusement in being a poor scientist's patron.
I am someone very interested in your work...
"Rebecca has been dead a long time. Do you think I am still grieving her?" Nathaniel looks up, towards the being standing tall and cold above him, away from the terrified visage of his long-dead wife.
"Hers, perhaps. Others?" Apocalypse gestures, and Nathaniel looks down once more as if compelled.
Rebecca has become Faye, her beautiful features ravaged by age and disease. "She and I had no quarrel, upon her death," Nathaniel says gruffly. He smooths a strand of gray hair from Faye's face, remembering when it had been blonde and the skin beneath smooth as silk. He looks up at Apocalypse and raises a brow. "I am not moved to a surfeit of emotion, I am afraid, so you shan't have me back beneath your heel quiet so easily."
"No? And when it is your firebrand, dead and beyond your reach? What manner of pain will you feel, then, do you suppose?"
Nathaniel looks down once more, and he is unsurprised at what he sees. Rachel is old. She turns to dust in his arms, skin rotting, bones crumbling into nothing.
"Would you not give me anything, Sinister, to stop her fate?" Apocalypse's features meld back into his usual sneer. "I gave you immortality. For the right price, perhaps..."
Nathaniel stands up, slowly. Rachel's body disintegrates as he does so. No. That is not her, and this is not real. "I shan't make any more devil's bargains with you," he says simply. "There is nothing you can offer that I would accept."
"Surfeit of emotion will haunt you, Essex. You will feel now. A thousand times, the agony of loss and suffering. If you return to me, I would give it back. Your dispassion. Take away these emotions which are like unto a plague. Suffer my wrath for but a few short years--what is that, to an immortal, but a moment?--and you may have it back. Be Sinister. It is who you are. You are too weak, to be that on your own efforts. I, Apocalypse, will give back what your firebrand has stolen."
Nathaniel's hands are covered in dust. It looks gray against the white of his skin. He looks at Apocalypse, who is the being now that Nathaniel remembers. Blue skinned and alien and strange."I do not think you can give me what I want. And even if you could, I am not of a mind to take it from you. I have paid your price once, En Sabah Nur, and I shan't pay it again."
"You will always be Sinister," Apocalypse sneers at him, laughing in that way that sounds like the dead trying to chuckle. "You cannot change what you have done. Not in my name, or your own, or the name of your god, Science. Never. It is useless to try. Sinister you have been, and you shall always be. With or without my interference."
Nathaniel nods. "Yes," he says quietly, and turns his back. "I know."
Had this been real, there would have been a mighty roar--no one turns their back on Apocalypse!--but this is not real, it is only a dream. Nathaniel sees something, golden and bright, shining in the distance ahead of him. The flames gather and sharpen into the shape of a woman. Rachel.
It is not really her. Nathaniel knows this at once; her image is too flattened, her glow not quite the right warm gold. "I won't forget it. What you did. To my family." Rachel's voice echoes strangely in the dream-landscape. Empty darkness. Space, perhaps.
"I never expected you to," Nathaniel says honestly. "That has never been our problem, Rachel." Why he is having this conversation, he is unsure.
She nods slowly. "Yes, it is, Nathaniel," she says, and her voice is sad. "We just never wanted to admit it."
Nathaniel feels something, deep in his breast, that may be sorrow. Some long-forgotten echo of a conscience he no longer has, no matter how many emotions live within him now. "I see."
"Would you take it back? Do it all differently?" Rachel cocks her head. Something is wrong with her eyes. They are not green, but yellow. Fading to white.
Nathaniel does not hesitate. "No."
She nods, very slowly. When she speaks, he hears bells. This is not Rachel. This is the other.
{{we do not like it, how she is, Essex.}}
Nathaniel wants to wake up--the Phoenix as Rachel's passenger is terrifying, the Phoenix as its own entity, even dulled by dreams, is whatever lives beyond terror--but he cannot force himself to awaken. If this is how he shall meet his end, he would prefer to do it awake.
{{no no you won't burn unless she wants us to, wants to play, and this isn't for play, Essex.}}
"I see," Nathaniel says, feeling very foolish.
{{she is ravaged in her mind, and we do not like it}}
What did one say to that? Nathaniel concentrates on the being--it does not look so much like Rachel, now, just light in the vaguest shape of a woman--and tries to think. "I do not like it, either," he says honestly. "But I have made a promise. I shall leave her alone."
{{she aches for you}}
Nathaniel closes his eyes. He can see Rachel, so clearly, in his mind's eye. And I for her. He cannot say it aloud, not quite.
{{we can hear you. we can hear her. we would that you were not apart. we do not understand. we would make her return to you.}}
"She would only leave again." The sound of bells is getting stronger. The light is starting to hurt his eyes.
{{you will never be a good man, Essex. It is writ thus in the stars. your soul is too sullied to be a thing pure and good}}
Nathaniel actually laughs at that. "Rest assured, I am aware of that."
{{you are darkness and she is light. together you are balanced. we tire of waiting for her to understand}}
"I share that particular sentiment," Nathaniel says, and his eyes are closed, because the Phoenix is too bright for him to keep his eyes open.
{{we try and tell her. we tell her what she needs. she finds it in the wrong places.}}
Behind his eyelids, he sees the shape of wings.
{{she gave something back to you that was taken. now you must do the same. when she understands what she needs from you, you must give it. or we will see you die}}
Nathaniel opens his eyes. He's awake. The room is bathed in a soft white light, for just a moment, and then it is gone. His room returns in an instant to quiet darkness.
You are darkness, and she is light.
Nathaniel lies awake, thinking, until morning. He cannot change who he is--some strange combination of Nathaniel Essex, dead now over a century, and the monster Sinister, suddenly awoken to humanity. He had thought he had to choose.
Perhaps he doesn't, after all.
Nathaniel is seated at a dark granite table. He is sitting, cross-legged, on the floor. On the table before him is a sterling silver tea-set and a chess board.
Across from him sits En Sabah Nur. Apocalypse.
"Sinister." Apocalypse's voice sounds like it always did. Metal gears grating against each other, some empty darkness gathering beneath clipped, unaccented syllables.
"Hello," Nathaniel says, sipping his tea. It tastes strange. He looks down and thinks maybe it is blood. Or oil. Whatever it is, it is entirely unpleasant. "I surmise this is a dream?"
"Yes. I sleep amongst the stars." Apocalypse leans forward, hands on the table. "Not forever, Sinister. I will return."
"Pity. And I shall defeat you again." Nathaniel puts his cup down. "I am something of an expert at it," he says, a bit cockily.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you shall join me. I offered you something you wanted, once. Perchance you shall want it again. The firebrand of the Grey family has ruined you, Sinister."
Nathaniel looks down at the chess board. There is something about the pieces that are not right. The black queen is levitating, and she has wings. She touches the knights and they burn to cinders beneath her flames. She approaches the black bishop, who has glowing red eyes and a diamond etched into the piece.
Apocalypse reaches out with his finger, and moves the bishop away from the queen's burning wings. "She makes you burn, Essex. Like you did before I allowed you my merciful touch." The white queen flies across the board, and falls to its side in front of the bishop. "Women have a way of undermining your composure. It makes you weak. I made you strong, before. I could make you strong again."
The black king rises into the air and hovers over the bishop. "Would you not give your soul again, to me, to end your torment?"
Nathaniel looks up from the board, into the flat eyes of his hated master. "No. You shall never yoke me again. There is nothing you can promise me that would be of an allure."
"I would not say that so quickly, Essex. So much pain. Her death..." Apocalypse's mouth curves up into what is supposed to be a smile. "Do you not remember?"
The scene changes. Nathaniel is human, and he is on the ground. Holding Rebecca in his arms. She is bleeding, between her thighs, bleeding away the life within.
I only wanted to save the baby. And you, from the pain of Adam's death. I would have done anything for you.
"It's always a woman with you, Essex." Apocalypse is dressed as Nathaniel remembers him; ornate dress, holding a golden scepter. Looking like some Eastern potentate with a kingdom laid out before him. Nathaniel had thought he was nothing more than some wealthy bored sultan, finding amusement in being a poor scientist's patron.
I am someone very interested in your work...
"Rebecca has been dead a long time. Do you think I am still grieving her?" Nathaniel looks up, towards the being standing tall and cold above him, away from the terrified visage of his long-dead wife.
"Hers, perhaps. Others?" Apocalypse gestures, and Nathaniel looks down once more as if compelled.
Rebecca has become Faye, her beautiful features ravaged by age and disease. "She and I had no quarrel, upon her death," Nathaniel says gruffly. He smooths a strand of gray hair from Faye's face, remembering when it had been blonde and the skin beneath smooth as silk. He looks up at Apocalypse and raises a brow. "I am not moved to a surfeit of emotion, I am afraid, so you shan't have me back beneath your heel quiet so easily."
"No? And when it is your firebrand, dead and beyond your reach? What manner of pain will you feel, then, do you suppose?"
Nathaniel looks down once more, and he is unsurprised at what he sees. Rachel is old. She turns to dust in his arms, skin rotting, bones crumbling into nothing.
"Would you not give me anything, Sinister, to stop her fate?" Apocalypse's features meld back into his usual sneer. "I gave you immortality. For the right price, perhaps..."
Nathaniel stands up, slowly. Rachel's body disintegrates as he does so. No. That is not her, and this is not real. "I shan't make any more devil's bargains with you," he says simply. "There is nothing you can offer that I would accept."
"Surfeit of emotion will haunt you, Essex. You will feel now. A thousand times, the agony of loss and suffering. If you return to me, I would give it back. Your dispassion. Take away these emotions which are like unto a plague. Suffer my wrath for but a few short years--what is that, to an immortal, but a moment?--and you may have it back. Be Sinister. It is who you are. You are too weak, to be that on your own efforts. I, Apocalypse, will give back what your firebrand has stolen."
Nathaniel's hands are covered in dust. It looks gray against the white of his skin. He looks at Apocalypse, who is the being now that Nathaniel remembers. Blue skinned and alien and strange."I do not think you can give me what I want. And even if you could, I am not of a mind to take it from you. I have paid your price once, En Sabah Nur, and I shan't pay it again."
"You will always be Sinister," Apocalypse sneers at him, laughing in that way that sounds like the dead trying to chuckle. "You cannot change what you have done. Not in my name, or your own, or the name of your god, Science. Never. It is useless to try. Sinister you have been, and you shall always be. With or without my interference."
Nathaniel nods. "Yes," he says quietly, and turns his back. "I know."
Had this been real, there would have been a mighty roar--no one turns their back on Apocalypse!--but this is not real, it is only a dream. Nathaniel sees something, golden and bright, shining in the distance ahead of him. The flames gather and sharpen into the shape of a woman. Rachel.
It is not really her. Nathaniel knows this at once; her image is too flattened, her glow not quite the right warm gold. "I won't forget it. What you did. To my family." Rachel's voice echoes strangely in the dream-landscape. Empty darkness. Space, perhaps.
"I never expected you to," Nathaniel says honestly. "That has never been our problem, Rachel." Why he is having this conversation, he is unsure.
She nods slowly. "Yes, it is, Nathaniel," she says, and her voice is sad. "We just never wanted to admit it."
Nathaniel feels something, deep in his breast, that may be sorrow. Some long-forgotten echo of a conscience he no longer has, no matter how many emotions live within him now. "I see."
"Would you take it back? Do it all differently?" Rachel cocks her head. Something is wrong with her eyes. They are not green, but yellow. Fading to white.
Nathaniel does not hesitate. "No."
She nods, very slowly. When she speaks, he hears bells. This is not Rachel. This is the other.
{{we do not like it, how she is, Essex.}}
Nathaniel wants to wake up--the Phoenix as Rachel's passenger is terrifying, the Phoenix as its own entity, even dulled by dreams, is whatever lives beyond terror--but he cannot force himself to awaken. If this is how he shall meet his end, he would prefer to do it awake.
{{no no you won't burn unless she wants us to, wants to play, and this isn't for play, Essex.}}
"I see," Nathaniel says, feeling very foolish.
{{she is ravaged in her mind, and we do not like it}}
What did one say to that? Nathaniel concentrates on the being--it does not look so much like Rachel, now, just light in the vaguest shape of a woman--and tries to think. "I do not like it, either," he says honestly. "But I have made a promise. I shall leave her alone."
{{she aches for you}}
Nathaniel closes his eyes. He can see Rachel, so clearly, in his mind's eye. And I for her. He cannot say it aloud, not quite.
{{we can hear you. we can hear her. we would that you were not apart. we do not understand. we would make her return to you.}}
"She would only leave again." The sound of bells is getting stronger. The light is starting to hurt his eyes.
{{you will never be a good man, Essex. It is writ thus in the stars. your soul is too sullied to be a thing pure and good}}
Nathaniel actually laughs at that. "Rest assured, I am aware of that."
{{you are darkness and she is light. together you are balanced. we tire of waiting for her to understand}}
"I share that particular sentiment," Nathaniel says, and his eyes are closed, because the Phoenix is too bright for him to keep his eyes open.
{{we try and tell her. we tell her what she needs. she finds it in the wrong places.}}
Behind his eyelids, he sees the shape of wings.
{{she gave something back to you that was taken. now you must do the same. when she understands what she needs from you, you must give it. or we will see you die}}
Nathaniel opens his eyes. He's awake. The room is bathed in a soft white light, for just a moment, and then it is gone. His room returns in an instant to quiet darkness.
You are darkness, and she is light.
Nathaniel lies awake, thinking, until morning. He cannot change who he is--some strange combination of Nathaniel Essex, dead now over a century, and the monster Sinister, suddenly awoken to humanity. He had thought he had to choose.
Perhaps he doesn't, after all.