Condemn the Lost
"People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent."
--Bob Dylan
The ghost ship sailed on.
The men had no clue why the sky had split open with such a sound of thunder as that except to assume that it was the onset of another storm.
They could not anchor, they could not wait and they could not call to the little living beastie as the thunder itself seemed to split the creature into nothingness. Living souls were not meant to stand on these decks at any rate and many of the condemned were glad the creature was gone.
The ship was silent again, as it had been for centuries before that blue enigma had touched her rotting, ever-darkened decks. It was as a ghost ship ought to be, as Tradition demanded.
Except that it was not so harrowing. It was not now so shadowed with the unchanging gray of eternity.
--------------------
Renne met the rain with an expression of weary distance.
He still hated this rain but that hate seemed so close as to be simply another accepted thing. The sand under his feet was a welcome sensation and a dreadful one.
The blue creature crawled along the ground and went through his own mind, sifting like a prospector on the hunt for gold. He knew how he'd come from the ghost-ship to land again and the ship's captain was not displeased to have the living creature gone from his ship. Gone from his ship and his eternity.
--------------------
Malcolm had come out of the Red Dragon Inn disappointed.
Smiling, but disappointed.
True, he had made a girl's night and had a fine hard cider but his leads were as barren as they had been when he'd gone in. In retrospect, Malcolm might have thought better of going in there.
While back in Greece, he'd been able to think hard about the events he'd witnessed all those months ago and the words of that other man.
That other man, he recalled, seemed soft on the beast but Mal had kept up on the news.
Had Mal met him later on, that one might've been a fine Human Advocate.
Malcolm shook his head and headed to the Holding Houses first.
--------------------
Gaston glanced up from his paperwork as the Greek was ushered in. It didn't take long to figure out who the man was, so the warden figured he could spare a minute.
Mal pulled back one of the chairs opposite of Gaston's desk and sat down.
"C'n I help you?"
"Yea'. Heard the blue beastie 'scaped."
Malcolm could almost see the gears in Gaston's head working and grinned a too-friendly grin. He knew the story the papers told already but he'd dropped the almost-facade of the Human Paragon when he'd stepped out of the Red Dragon's doors.
The Grecian was a decent, upstanding Human.
He was also a firm believer in Hammurabi's Law.
"People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent."
--Bob Dylan
The ghost ship sailed on.
The men had no clue why the sky had split open with such a sound of thunder as that except to assume that it was the onset of another storm.
They could not anchor, they could not wait and they could not call to the little living beastie as the thunder itself seemed to split the creature into nothingness. Living souls were not meant to stand on these decks at any rate and many of the condemned were glad the creature was gone.
The ship was silent again, as it had been for centuries before that blue enigma had touched her rotting, ever-darkened decks. It was as a ghost ship ought to be, as Tradition demanded.
Except that it was not so harrowing. It was not now so shadowed with the unchanging gray of eternity.
--------------------
Renne met the rain with an expression of weary distance.
He still hated this rain but that hate seemed so close as to be simply another accepted thing. The sand under his feet was a welcome sensation and a dreadful one.
The blue creature crawled along the ground and went through his own mind, sifting like a prospector on the hunt for gold. He knew how he'd come from the ghost-ship to land again and the ship's captain was not displeased to have the living creature gone from his ship. Gone from his ship and his eternity.
--------------------
Malcolm had come out of the Red Dragon Inn disappointed.
Smiling, but disappointed.
True, he had made a girl's night and had a fine hard cider but his leads were as barren as they had been when he'd gone in. In retrospect, Malcolm might have thought better of going in there.
While back in Greece, he'd been able to think hard about the events he'd witnessed all those months ago and the words of that other man.
That other man, he recalled, seemed soft on the beast but Mal had kept up on the news.
Had Mal met him later on, that one might've been a fine Human Advocate.
Malcolm shook his head and headed to the Holding Houses first.
--------------------
Gaston glanced up from his paperwork as the Greek was ushered in. It didn't take long to figure out who the man was, so the warden figured he could spare a minute.
Mal pulled back one of the chairs opposite of Gaston's desk and sat down.
"C'n I help you?"
"Yea'. Heard the blue beastie 'scaped."
Malcolm could almost see the gears in Gaston's head working and grinned a too-friendly grin. He knew the story the papers told already but he'd dropped the almost-facade of the Human Paragon when he'd stepped out of the Red Dragon's doors.
The Grecian was a decent, upstanding Human.
He was also a firm believer in Hammurabi's Law.