Last Will and Testament of the Lord of Ezogaer

[DoS Archive]

Date: 11/30/97 6:22 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: Aristiri


The dark one came out of what passes for sleep in his kind disoriented. His silvern eyes fluttered between open and closed, and it took him several moments to recognize the furnishings in the small aerie he was forced to hide in during his time in Rhydnn. Half-images kept invading his thoughts from his memories, and it took an effort of will to force them away.

He moved to the center of the room and sunk to the floor, crossing his legs. His greyed wings settled around him, folding up between his shoulders to keep out of the sand and dust. Deliberately, he steepled his fingers before him and turned his attention inward, seeking what had disturbed his rest.

He had awakened to the sounds of angels crying. It was a sound that he had heard only a few times in the past, during events that would shape his existence in ways that his maker had never intended. He remembered glorying in the sound when the agents of his superior's adversary had wept over the son of a mortal woman. He remembered shedding tears with his brethren twice, first when his companions fell in the first great war, then a second time
when the gates were shut against himself and the other survivors. Both times, it was a painfully beautiful chorus that had pulled at the fabric of his existence.

This time the sound was different. Instead of many voices combining in one emotion, it was the sound of a single misery that resonated against his soul. His eyes glittered and his lips curved to a smile as he thought of the one creature in this realm that could have projected such purity of emotion. Absently, he reached to the tip of one wing and pulled loose a feather. His fingers spun it around and between his hands, leading his memory back to
the present.

"Poor little sister," he hissed, "You gave your redemption to be with your Addonai, and this is how he repays you. I guess he was just a little god."

He casts the feather loose and lets it float to the floor, watching it twist in the air as it settles.

"One step closer, she is. Just a small push may be what she needs. I am sure there are many willing to catch a beautiful Seraphim when she falls. We will just need to make sure the correct.. influences.. are strong when she looks around for direction." One taloned hand flashes down, scooping up the feather before it settles to the floor and curling around it, hiding it from view.

He spreads his wings and launches into the dreary winter's night, bound for the castle that once belonged to the angel's husband.