Day of Justice
And you might like the place where I have been
But I don't want to go there with you
All the sunset skies
Meant to blow your mind
And now your skin is gold
And the earth shall shine
Callie sits, her whole body vibrating with impatience. She has waited for this for long months. Is it a year? She's lost track of time, one threat to life and limb follows on another's heels. Month after agonizing month has gone by, while the one who tortures and kills children goes free, protected, gently embraced by the laws of her home.
The Warlock can abide much, but she cannot stand this injustice. At times she had considered resigning from her post as Symposium secretary to bring the matter before them. If others could die for the cause, however, for believing, then she could wait.
The minutes tick by. The master with the now-ruined eye grows as impatient as she, and his minions are burnt from within. Without thinking, she clears the air of the room, sending the stench far out, to the sea, and replacing it with the clean salt air. Seers get what they deserve.
She takes a moment to tremble in the privacy of the mind that she shares with her cabal. Safe.
And then she stands up to speak.
After all, promises made in the full view of others are better than resounding silence.
Pour on, pour on what you need
You might like the taste of what you seek
Oh, if the sunset goes
You should take what you can
And you might like the place where I have been
I don't want to go there with you
But I don't want to go there with you
All the sunset skies
Meant to blow your mind
And now your skin is gold
And the earth shall shine
Callie sits, her whole body vibrating with impatience. She has waited for this for long months. Is it a year? She's lost track of time, one threat to life and limb follows on another's heels. Month after agonizing month has gone by, while the one who tortures and kills children goes free, protected, gently embraced by the laws of her home.
The Warlock can abide much, but she cannot stand this injustice. At times she had considered resigning from her post as Symposium secretary to bring the matter before them. If others could die for the cause, however, for believing, then she could wait.
The minutes tick by. The master with the now-ruined eye grows as impatient as she, and his minions are burnt from within. Without thinking, she clears the air of the room, sending the stench far out, to the sea, and replacing it with the clean salt air. Seers get what they deserve.
She takes a moment to tremble in the privacy of the mind that she shares with her cabal. Safe.
And then she stands up to speak.
After all, promises made in the full view of others are better than resounding silence.
Pour on, pour on what you need
You might like the taste of what you seek
Oh, if the sunset goes
You should take what you can
And you might like the place where I have been
I don't want to go there with you