Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Agostino]

---

Apologies, Doctore. Please forgive me. The thoughts tore through Agostino’s mind, but he dared not give them voice. Instead, he gave stern voice to commands. The sword was his, as was its ward. If he left this world for Apollyon’s hell with any regret for leaving the angel behind, there would be no keeping Mikhaeil safe in Stonegate. The angel would be by Agostino’s side in a heartbeat, and everything would be lost.

“Arm.” The gypsy demanded. Mikhaeil lifted his arm to where Agostino held the chain ready. Agostino shackled his wrist and gave the chain a firm tug, testing the bindings. Mikhaeil stood, back against the sandstone wall of the Ludus, wrists and ankles bound in chains. Xoriah knelt on the floor at the angel’s feet, bereft of any human semblance. Black horns nestled in her crimson curls, and her eyes glowed pale white as she watched Mikhaeil intently. Her great red leathery wings flitted ever-so-gently with his every movement. But Mikhaeil looked neither upon gypsy or succubus. Instead he lowered his gaze. His indignity, Agostino thought, may well be the very least of the torment he endures this night.

At last, the bindings were complete. Agostino backed away from Mikhaeil. Xoriah looked to Agostino, but her gaze rested upon the hilt of the brilliant sword sheathed at the gypsy’s waist. “Thank you, Agostino. For everything.”

Agostino lowered his head to her respectfully. “Di niente, Domina. Think not on it.”

Mikhaeil lifted his emerald gaze, struggling to make eye contact with the gypsy who held his sword. “I wish that I were coming with you, even if only to watch my champion emerge from battle victorious.”

Agostino’s eyes softened, his brow furrowed as he spoke firmly. “Signore, there is no shred within me that wishes your presence with me this night.” His dark eyes expressed thoughts that betrayed his words.

“I was chained there in Apollyon’s lair, the night Xoriah stole my sword from him. Yet nothing could hold me from her presence. I was with her the instant she left his world. I do not know that these chains can hold me here.” Mikhaeil watched Agostino, his eyes somewhat troubled.

This time, it was Xoriah’s soft and musical voice which answered him. “The night I took your sword, Angel, I did so with the express intent of taking you with me. I desired you by my side. Tonight he rides with every desire that you remain behind here, safe, with me. We can only hope this will make all the difference.”

Agostino looked to the ludus window and sighed. He raked his fingers through his dark curls, then lowered his hand to rest on the hilt of Mikhaeil’s sword as he bowed his head. “It is time. I ride. My Brother. My Domina. My family. I will not fail you.”

[Mikhaeil]

---

Mikhaeil lowered his head. He was filled with a desolate impotence he'd known only once before. His mind numb, he closed his eyes against the interminable images that advanced upon his inner vision with rapacious insistence. The iron weight of lost freedom shackled him back to memories of the rudius and its inexorable cost. This, however, was not the time to allow recollections of his forced departure from wife and son to consort with conspired purpose toward weakened resolve. The chains were a necessary encumbrance he would endure for the sake of serenity, for the champion he'd trained, for the love he treasured and for the Master who'd enslaved him to this sacrifice.

[Kaylor]

---

Kaylor held back his steed. Many reasons sat upon his heart . . . and his soul. It seemed heaven had charged Agostino to take down this daemon, the slave's sword forged for that purpose alone. If such were so, then neither he nor any man possessed the right to stand in stead of holy providence.

And what of The Black Knight? A cursed king whose essence played host to the most ebon oblivion had passed beyond the darkest caverns of pennant retribution, unscathed yet scarred by the blade upon which innocent blood ran virulent.

He would see The Oracle returned to Stonegate . . . then he would seek departure from the suffocating guilt.
_________________
*Even if you be otherwise perfect, you fail without humility. ~ The Talmud*

[Xoriah]

---

Balanced upon a knife’s edge. Helpless to prevent any of the dozens of horrendous outcomes that played themselves cruelly in her mind. Her angel – not even her angel anymore – stood shackled, chained to the wall, and she sat at his feet. Nothing but empty hope resonated within her. There was no room left for anything else. Any number of tiny missteps – the gypsy’s faintest thought toward having his teacher with him, or any hint of desire for Mikhaeil to see his own retribution as the daemon fell – would summon the angel at once from her world and place him in the center of the fray. Agostino held the sword now someplace where she could not follow. With it, he held Mikhaeil’s will and their collective future.

But the angel yet lingered here, as the hours crawled by. Perhaps, she thought, hope is not so empty after all. From where she knelt, she leaned her head gently against his thigh. A deep sigh, and his muscles tensed. All that remained was silence, and the wait.
_________________
Come with me where chains will never bind you...all your grief at last, at last behind you. ~Les Miserables