Post by blythe on Mar 4, 2010 16:47:38 GMT -6
The Spectre left the captain's cabin aboard Vigilant, and the redheaded wraith stared at the door a moment. The Banshee had come very near to plunging her knife into the gut of the man for the words shared between the two. Blythe should have remained silent, let Cassus continue to think she had no voice to lend at all, but words had most certainly been given and could not be taken back now.
Self-righteous coward. To kill from afar as he did was enough an act of someone spineless that Blythe cared nothing for the man newest to Percival's band of anti-heroes. There was no doubt he was competent; that thought never entered the mind of the woman. Talon would not have chosen the Spectre of Rome for their task if that had been the case.
Still, there was a part of Blythe that wanted the man gone. I am no man of God, he'd said. That man died with my father. That in itself was a blessing and probably the only thing that saved Cassus from being torn apart by knife and rapier there in Percival's cabin aboard the ship. It was the way in which she had envisioned him speaking to her that had almost been his undoing.
Madness had returned to the mind of the Banshee, lurking there beneath the surface of her thoughts and influencing them toward the darkness that seemed to consume her at times. Blythe had heard judgment in Cassus' tone where there actually had been none; she read more into the words which were spoken than the man had truly meant.
The break had come.
Maddened blue eyes rested on the door still as Blythe stood there in the silence of the cabin. When she initially heard the footsteps behind her, confusion crossed her features, but it would not last. An all too familiar feeling of near-euphoria filtered into her senses marking the separation of her mind into two consciences. When the realization hit, the Banshee smirked to herself. The Second had arrived.
You're lusting a bit too much for the kill these days, aren't you?
A resigned sort of sigh was given almost as if an old but annoying friend had shown up for a long-overdue chat.
"I do what needs to be done. This is merely one step closer to my salvation."
The soft echo of a laugh reverberated within her mind and, though she didn't realize it, from her own lips.
That seems to have been the mantra for years now, though, has it not? So close to an unreachable goal. You poor little girl. Can you not see the fact that there is no salvation for you? There is and never was; there never will be. Your soul is lost and won't be found.
A frown touched the lips of the woman as she stood there in the middle of the cabin, blue eyes swiveling toward the darkness outside of the window overlooking the wake of the ship.
"I will find salvation, even if I am forced to drown in the blood that I spill. This is the only path that leads to finding Angus, and since that is the case I know my lot in life and which direction I must go."
There was silence for a moment before that second train of thought voiced its opinion on the matter.
And what of your traveling companions, lass? Are they merely stepping stones in your lake of fire, used for your goal and nothing more?
Blythe turned toward where the footsteps had seemed to be before, her eyes leveling on the countenance of a much more serene vision of herself. Red hair was smooth and long, not dry and unkempt; blue eyes were soft and harbored no hint of darkness. The peace on her features made her seem much younger and wiser.
"And if they are?"
Then your soul is truly lost.
That answer was not good enough and never would be. The Banshee had a path to redemption, albeit one that was scorched by the tendrils of flame that crawled from the pits of the hells.
"Salvation does not require that I make friends along the way."
A small and fleeting glaze of intrigue crossed over the gaze of the image before The Second spoke again.
Do you not already consider Percival a sort of friend? You've shared your secrets with the man, and he's accepted your words as they were given. He has promised his assistance and has saved your life on more than one occasion now. He has given up his cabin to keep you safe from the crew. He has seen your smile; he has seen your madness. You have shown more to Vizharen than you have shown to anyone since I have known you.
That garnered a full smirk from Blythe, and her arms were drawn up to cross over her chest. There was truth in the words that were spoken, even if she hadn't wanted to admit that to anyone. She had, in fact, been more herself in the presence of the bloodthirsty man and in such a short amount of time. Her time spent with The Second had been less frequent, and that was a blessing in its own way.
"I trust Talon. He has earned the honor I give to him. He earned it well and proved himself to me quickly. To him I have sworn my blade and my loyalty, and they will not waver."
A cant of The Second's head was given, red brows knitting together briefly.
And what comes after he has fulfilled his promise to you?
To that, Blythe truly had no answer. She did trust the man and would have considered him a friend in another time, another life. Now? The Banshee had no clue as to her feelings on the matter.
"I will choose that path when it presents itself."
The Second gave a single, slight nod of her red-capped head.
So be it, then. Drench yourself in the carnage that has overtaken your life if you must, but remember this moment; remember who you were and could be again if only you allowed it.
The sounds of the waves slapping the Vigilant's hull once more filtered through the silence that now filled the room. The euphoric sensation waned and then was gone as suddenly as it had come. For now the madness had departed, leaving behind a hollow and cold feeling within the Scottish woman. The vision of The Second was gone and had left behind only the reflection of Blythe within the looking glass.
Self-righteous coward. To kill from afar as he did was enough an act of someone spineless that Blythe cared nothing for the man newest to Percival's band of anti-heroes. There was no doubt he was competent; that thought never entered the mind of the woman. Talon would not have chosen the Spectre of Rome for their task if that had been the case.
Still, there was a part of Blythe that wanted the man gone. I am no man of God, he'd said. That man died with my father. That in itself was a blessing and probably the only thing that saved Cassus from being torn apart by knife and rapier there in Percival's cabin aboard the ship. It was the way in which she had envisioned him speaking to her that had almost been his undoing.
Madness had returned to the mind of the Banshee, lurking there beneath the surface of her thoughts and influencing them toward the darkness that seemed to consume her at times. Blythe had heard judgment in Cassus' tone where there actually had been none; she read more into the words which were spoken than the man had truly meant.
The break had come.
Maddened blue eyes rested on the door still as Blythe stood there in the silence of the cabin. When she initially heard the footsteps behind her, confusion crossed her features, but it would not last. An all too familiar feeling of near-euphoria filtered into her senses marking the separation of her mind into two consciences. When the realization hit, the Banshee smirked to herself. The Second had arrived.
You're lusting a bit too much for the kill these days, aren't you?
A resigned sort of sigh was given almost as if an old but annoying friend had shown up for a long-overdue chat.
"I do what needs to be done. This is merely one step closer to my salvation."
The soft echo of a laugh reverberated within her mind and, though she didn't realize it, from her own lips.
That seems to have been the mantra for years now, though, has it not? So close to an unreachable goal. You poor little girl. Can you not see the fact that there is no salvation for you? There is and never was; there never will be. Your soul is lost and won't be found.
A frown touched the lips of the woman as she stood there in the middle of the cabin, blue eyes swiveling toward the darkness outside of the window overlooking the wake of the ship.
"I will find salvation, even if I am forced to drown in the blood that I spill. This is the only path that leads to finding Angus, and since that is the case I know my lot in life and which direction I must go."
There was silence for a moment before that second train of thought voiced its opinion on the matter.
And what of your traveling companions, lass? Are they merely stepping stones in your lake of fire, used for your goal and nothing more?
Blythe turned toward where the footsteps had seemed to be before, her eyes leveling on the countenance of a much more serene vision of herself. Red hair was smooth and long, not dry and unkempt; blue eyes were soft and harbored no hint of darkness. The peace on her features made her seem much younger and wiser.
"And if they are?"
Then your soul is truly lost.
That answer was not good enough and never would be. The Banshee had a path to redemption, albeit one that was scorched by the tendrils of flame that crawled from the pits of the hells.
"Salvation does not require that I make friends along the way."
A small and fleeting glaze of intrigue crossed over the gaze of the image before The Second spoke again.
Do you not already consider Percival a sort of friend? You've shared your secrets with the man, and he's accepted your words as they were given. He has promised his assistance and has saved your life on more than one occasion now. He has given up his cabin to keep you safe from the crew. He has seen your smile; he has seen your madness. You have shown more to Vizharen than you have shown to anyone since I have known you.
That garnered a full smirk from Blythe, and her arms were drawn up to cross over her chest. There was truth in the words that were spoken, even if she hadn't wanted to admit that to anyone. She had, in fact, been more herself in the presence of the bloodthirsty man and in such a short amount of time. Her time spent with The Second had been less frequent, and that was a blessing in its own way.
"I trust Talon. He has earned the honor I give to him. He earned it well and proved himself to me quickly. To him I have sworn my blade and my loyalty, and they will not waver."
A cant of The Second's head was given, red brows knitting together briefly.
And what comes after he has fulfilled his promise to you?
To that, Blythe truly had no answer. She did trust the man and would have considered him a friend in another time, another life. Now? The Banshee had no clue as to her feelings on the matter.
"I will choose that path when it presents itself."
The Second gave a single, slight nod of her red-capped head.
So be it, then. Drench yourself in the carnage that has overtaken your life if you must, but remember this moment; remember who you were and could be again if only you allowed it.
The sounds of the waves slapping the Vigilant's hull once more filtered through the silence that now filled the room. The euphoric sensation waned and then was gone as suddenly as it had come. For now the madness had departed, leaving behind a hollow and cold feeling within the Scottish woman. The vision of The Second was gone and had left behind only the reflection of Blythe within the looking glass.