"A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."
- John Stuart Mill
Location: West End Home of Belial and Crymmsun
Time: Seven weeks past
Exhaustion gripped him. It was the kind that reached so deeply that even the marrow hurt. Nevertheless, even that brought no respite to the man that lay in the cool darkness of the room. Not even a dreamless sleep would dare to draw him into its embrace. His roiling thoughts would not permit it.
Veighn has taken Alysia prisoner of war, Lucky?
The Seraph's words echoed against the solitude, stilled his breath as it had earlier that evening when the cruel revelation first struck him. The encounter he witnessed in the image orb played over and over again in his mind's eye in a merciless loop. He closed his eyes tighter, but his thoughts didn't quiet, nor did his emotions calm. Fatigue weighed on him even as restlessness claimed every muscle.
The bed moaned its muted protestation as he sat up in it, no longer able to lay in it. The man sat at the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face and head in mute frustration. A long and silent breath was had as he stared into the darkness, fighting to quiet his thoughts. It was then he saw, against the black canvas.
He saw her face. Unmarred alabaster with those captivating eyes of hers. It was so real, he thought to reach out in the darkness to brush a touch to her cheek. But the devil-kin came to stand between them leaving only a glimpse of the Priestess over his shoulder. It stirred another image, a familiar image, a vision that had been burned into his memory. Yet there was no intimate touch of her hand on his shoulder this time, nor cooing words from the devil-kin to the Priestess.
And there is more, Lucien...Veighn's done something... something major ....
Belial's words hung ominously in the stifling silence. Power hummed around the devil-kin, enveloping his form in a brighter and brighter light, stealing the Priestess from his view. Lucien leapt to his feet as it surged into a blinding flash then dimmed. A smug smile colored Veighn's visage, lingering as his image faded...and leaving the Barrister alone once again.
- John Stuart Mill
Location: West End Home of Belial and Crymmsun
Time: Seven weeks past
Exhaustion gripped him. It was the kind that reached so deeply that even the marrow hurt. Nevertheless, even that brought no respite to the man that lay in the cool darkness of the room. Not even a dreamless sleep would dare to draw him into its embrace. His roiling thoughts would not permit it.
Veighn has taken Alysia prisoner of war, Lucky?
The Seraph's words echoed against the solitude, stilled his breath as it had earlier that evening when the cruel revelation first struck him. The encounter he witnessed in the image orb played over and over again in his mind's eye in a merciless loop. He closed his eyes tighter, but his thoughts didn't quiet, nor did his emotions calm. Fatigue weighed on him even as restlessness claimed every muscle.
The bed moaned its muted protestation as he sat up in it, no longer able to lay in it. The man sat at the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face and head in mute frustration. A long and silent breath was had as he stared into the darkness, fighting to quiet his thoughts. It was then he saw, against the black canvas.
He saw her face. Unmarred alabaster with those captivating eyes of hers. It was so real, he thought to reach out in the darkness to brush a touch to her cheek. But the devil-kin came to stand between them leaving only a glimpse of the Priestess over his shoulder. It stirred another image, a familiar image, a vision that had been burned into his memory. Yet there was no intimate touch of her hand on his shoulder this time, nor cooing words from the devil-kin to the Priestess.
And there is more, Lucien...Veighn's done something... something major ....
Belial's words hung ominously in the stifling silence. Power hummed around the devil-kin, enveloping his form in a brighter and brighter light, stealing the Priestess from his view. Lucien leapt to his feet as it surged into a blinding flash then dimmed. A smug smile colored Veighn's visage, lingering as his image faded...and leaving the Barrister alone once again.