Post by Adrian on Sept 30, 2014 22:41:51 GMT
Cure te ipsum.
The domain was sick, the land saturated with the blood of innocents lost in the chaos of revolution and bloody change. For those with the ears to hear, the very walls of the cities cried out for a true lord to establish order and peace, to bring back prosperity and security in a new world where nothing made sense. For one with the eyes to see, the twisted phantoms crowded the air like locusts, only to be torn to shrieking pieces by a Plutonic storm and dashed upon the shards of their once-proud homes. This land, once green and thriving, was now a place of desolation and despair, with few beacons of hope.
How had it come to this, in just a year’s passing? What had they done to inflict this calamity upon their new home? Was it their savagery, the unpent drive to do what their freedom allowed with no thought to cost? Was it their nature, to feed upon the weak and sustain themselves on the blood of others? Was it their sin, to go against the edicts lain down by their Father?
The domain was sick, and the doctor was troubled. Despite his efforts to curb the excess, to focus on positive growth and more pragmatic goals, to strengthen both the herd and the shepherd, the result was still devastation and death. Was it something new, some strange twisting of the Curse that drove them to destroy all that was within reach? Some malady of the soul that lead to eternal hunger that not even blood could quench?
Even now, he felt it, the ember in the back of his throat, the burning need for the sweet taste of life upon his lips, the rush of power from the trapped soul within as it was consumed by the shadow within his soul, glutton that it was.
He knew that he was not alone in this, that others had been stricken with maladies far worse and less...concealable. There were few among their ever-dwindling number that remained uninfected. Soon, it would have a grip on them all, and their fate would be sealed.
Still, there was time yet, time enough to find a cure for the plague that had been loosed upon them...or if not a cure, a knife with which to cut it out.
Sighing, he passed his boarding pass to the servant at the desk, watching her match the laminated chit of paper’s photo to the one he currently wore before waving him through. Finding his seat, he stowed his bags and prepared himself for the journey, clutching his rosary ever tighter, knowing he would need its strength soon enough. The speaker above squawked to life, a tinny voice tumbling out. “Welcome to Lufthansa flight 491, direct from SeaTac to Frankfurt. Our flight time tonight will be a little over ten hours, and the tower is reporting…”
His thoughts once more turning inward, he tuned out the droning servant. A little over 15 hours to Krakow then. Another 2 to reach the site, and the time to begin his work…
Well, a doctor’s work is never done, and he must always meet his rounds. Hopefully, the domain could handle itself while he was gone, that Prometheus could hold together long enough for him to complete his business and return with the solution they all needed. He could only pray that he could find her, that she could help quench the burning within his soul, and that she could teach him to do the same for the others..
Still, first thing was first: cure te ipsum.
Physician, heal thyself.
The domain was sick, the land saturated with the blood of innocents lost in the chaos of revolution and bloody change. For those with the ears to hear, the very walls of the cities cried out for a true lord to establish order and peace, to bring back prosperity and security in a new world where nothing made sense. For one with the eyes to see, the twisted phantoms crowded the air like locusts, only to be torn to shrieking pieces by a Plutonic storm and dashed upon the shards of their once-proud homes. This land, once green and thriving, was now a place of desolation and despair, with few beacons of hope.
How had it come to this, in just a year’s passing? What had they done to inflict this calamity upon their new home? Was it their savagery, the unpent drive to do what their freedom allowed with no thought to cost? Was it their nature, to feed upon the weak and sustain themselves on the blood of others? Was it their sin, to go against the edicts lain down by their Father?
The domain was sick, and the doctor was troubled. Despite his efforts to curb the excess, to focus on positive growth and more pragmatic goals, to strengthen both the herd and the shepherd, the result was still devastation and death. Was it something new, some strange twisting of the Curse that drove them to destroy all that was within reach? Some malady of the soul that lead to eternal hunger that not even blood could quench?
Even now, he felt it, the ember in the back of his throat, the burning need for the sweet taste of life upon his lips, the rush of power from the trapped soul within as it was consumed by the shadow within his soul, glutton that it was.
He knew that he was not alone in this, that others had been stricken with maladies far worse and less...concealable. There were few among their ever-dwindling number that remained uninfected. Soon, it would have a grip on them all, and their fate would be sealed.
Still, there was time yet, time enough to find a cure for the plague that had been loosed upon them...or if not a cure, a knife with which to cut it out.
Sighing, he passed his boarding pass to the servant at the desk, watching her match the laminated chit of paper’s photo to the one he currently wore before waving him through. Finding his seat, he stowed his bags and prepared himself for the journey, clutching his rosary ever tighter, knowing he would need its strength soon enough. The speaker above squawked to life, a tinny voice tumbling out. “Welcome to Lufthansa flight 491, direct from SeaTac to Frankfurt. Our flight time tonight will be a little over ten hours, and the tower is reporting…”
His thoughts once more turning inward, he tuned out the droning servant. A little over 15 hours to Krakow then. Another 2 to reach the site, and the time to begin his work…
Well, a doctor’s work is never done, and he must always meet his rounds. Hopefully, the domain could handle itself while he was gone, that Prometheus could hold together long enough for him to complete his business and return with the solution they all needed. He could only pray that he could find her, that she could help quench the burning within his soul, and that she could teach him to do the same for the others..
Still, first thing was first: cure te ipsum.
Physician, heal thyself.