Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot, Morrien, and the Eye of Jodgr.
Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.
Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL.
Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.
Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.
Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think of something better, let me know.
Status: In progress
A/N: Yeah, I know these past few chapters have been kinda short. Bear with me though. They just all have a lot of significance that needs to be spaced. I can't smoosh everything together. Actually I can, but it wouldn't be very good form. Enjoy! Or...maybe not.
Chapter 6
"My lord," she calls to him, cornering him, pinning him to the very room with her presence, with her distasteful aura. "A word." A command, not a request.
He nods to her casually, no fear in this faith. He waves her in and the remainder of his loyal out. "Come in, Morrien. Speak to me, how is he?"
She ignores him completely and begins her own speech. She starts with her eyes downcaste, staring into a nothingness. Walking with seeming mild lenience, but really circling him slowly, closing in on him like a lion stalking its prey. "It's really quite sad isn't it? Ironic in a sense, no?" Her voice is dead cold and steel strong. Her entire being a type of calm only found within the thrilling moment of danger. Everything is at a stand still as she gazes at him with her vibrant, glowing, electric green eyes that seem to mist over even the slightest before snapping back into sharp focus again and again. The emotions reflecting from those eyes are a torrent not to be reckoned with. At that very second, he discovers that he feared her. Feared her to the very pit of his dark, cold, dead, soul. He fears her now and knows that if she so willed it, he could not escape her. Her wrath like that of a mad dog, gone insane with disease and hatred.
Her already glowing eyes suddenly flash as she inclines her head to the side to stare him down as if he were merely a piece of meat. "That this technology...this great and wondrous advancement that the human, no, that the Necromonger race has achieved...cannot even satisfy my standards. This technology that past ages would murder for cannot save life or resurrect it. Hm," she chuckles humorlessly. Her mouth curves into a cold blooded smirk. She is now speaking to him without the riddles and without the haze of insanity, so that her message is clear. She is now speaking to him as if it were his Judgment Day and she, his Divine Judge. "You needn't worry. There will be no resurrecting here. It really is an amazing feat, if not oh-so ironic. Technology, mathematics, science, chemicals, machines...all able to make me what I am today. All gave me this strength, this cunning, this enhancement from the average life's whore," she hisses the last part with amounting detest. "It could make me great, but it could not save my BELOVED! It could not save another that is dearest to me! And for that I damn it! I damn it to the very last Ring of the Seven Hells and beyond!" she screams at him now, her eyes raging like a storm. Her face is contorted into massive hatred, sorrow, and fury; a terrifying squall. Her body is rigid and tense with the stiffening of her muscles at the pure agony deep within her being. And just like that, everything relaxes and smoothes into that flawless, feline grace that he is most accustomed with.
She looks away from him, her eyes taking on a far away look, turning flat, dead, to stare half lidded at the ground. "You have no concerns, Sir," she whispers quietly, her liquid calm returned. "I have no vengeance for you." Her eyes flutter back up to connect with his. "No, my wrath is not for you. My retribution...my," sigh, looks away, head bent for the ground again, "reprisal...is for another. For another time and another day. I can only tell you to be weary. I am not your shield, only your killer." She looks up to him again, meeting him dead on in the eyes, hers flashing again. "Do not try to use me as anything other than a silencer. I have no stomach for anything else. These recent...events...has laid in me the need to...how shall I say it...seek solace in hushed pause and tranquility. This is my 'request'," she says this with much sarcasm, "to you, my liege. May I have this consideration brought to light and bidded allowance?"
His throat is dry as he watches her predatory stance. Her whole self taking on the persona of a stalking tiger, threatening and aggressive. He swallows, in hopes of quenching his abrupt thirst. He nods slowly, keeping his expression blank and cool. "Consideration brought to light and bidded allowance. I hope you find peace," he says to her gently, as to not provoke her into more belligerence.
She sneers with cold sarcasm. "I will never have peace," she bites out snidely and turns on him to storm away. Her stomps are filled with a silence and grace that he never thought possible in such a gesture. A first time for everything. He can only hope that Morrien does find peace...perhaps quickly for the sake of his people and himself.
/break/
She allows the barest of smirks to softly play across her lips and disappear again into sorrow. She gently places her hand over his, "I'm so sorry, my love. I feel the deepest regret and grief in my chest." She stares at his unmoving form as his eyelids flutter just the slightest before laying still, closed.
He could feel the helplessness swelling inside of him. Utter broken misery as he listens to her heart shatter and knows that he is unable to mend it. His poor, poor beloved, sitting at his bedside, whispering to his doomed soul. She's becoming a shell just as quickly as he is by staying with him. He can no longer have a life and because of this, neither can she. The unearthly sorrow spills from his heart as he watches the girl of his fatherly love sit cold, unable to shed a single tear. The nothingness seeps into him as he continues to lie there, too incapable of comforting his girl and scare her fears away.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs again as she leans in closer. "I'm so very sorry."
'Don't be sorry,' he wants to say to her. He can feel and hear the weeping in her soul's voice, though no actual rivers cry. 'Don't be sorry. I don't want you to be sorry.'
"I'm sorry," she says to him again and again, never ceasing as if it were an enchanting scripture that could bring him back to her. She recites this mantra over, and over, and over again. "I'm sorry that you have to suffer like this. I just wanted to have more time with you. I had denied the consequences and now you are neither living nor dying. I'm sorry," she goes back to her chatting. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
She holds his one hand with both of hers now. He can feel her, stalk still as he is. He can feel her shifting closer, desperately so. Hoping against all hope that he would awaken to her through such a small act. 'No, what did you do? It doesn't matter. Don't be sorry, beloved. I'm still here for you. Don't be sorry. Don't be sad. Do not mourn for this old man,' he tries to reach her mentally, to no avail. His soul cries fro hers.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could be with you. I don't want to stay here. Please, I want to be with you," she begs him in whispers, as if he is the one to decide her fate. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just come back to me, please. Please, let this just be a twisted jest to shake fear to my core and have you rise in resurrection, jolly and joyful to have me by your side. Please." She leans her forehead against his hand that is clasped between hers.
He can feel the soft wisps of her hair as it brushes his bare hand. The skin of her forehead against that of his hand wrinkles as she squeezes her eyes shut. 'Oh beloved, don't. Don't be sorry. Don't come with me,' he tries to whisper to her, of course, there is no movement.
"I knew, you know," she says finally, lifting her head to stare at his face. "I knew this would happen. I knew you would die. I just didn't know how and only knew roughly when. We're all toys and little pawns in Death's game of life. There is no true Destiny or Fate, just Death. And I knew. I'm sorry, there just wasn't any purpose to telling you. You would only ponder and worry. I tried to make your last days your happiest, but I have such a guilt. I'm sorry. I could not save you. How I wish that I could have." Her voice finally begins to crack, though no other physical change occurs. "I'm so sorry."
'Don't be sorry, darling. There was nothing you could do,' he tries and tries only to have his heart continue to corrode. He could hear it all and understand, but now on the brink of death it holds little significance.
"I never did tell you much about myself when you told me everything. I couldn't tell you. What would you think? I didn't want to spoil it. Our time. It was a very...picturesque thing. I did not want to ruin such with the drabs of my bloody layers being peeled away, causing you to question or try to make it better. The truth is that you can't. I've accepted what I am and I didn't want you to try to change it during your final days. I didn't want you to worry." A small, shaky intake of breath here. Morrien does not lose her composure. She stares on, silent for a long moments, just watching his unmoving facial features.
"Oh, my lord, how I ache for you. I will never see another smile, or raise of your delicate, handsome brow, or another twitch of your eye when you are displeased with my hyper antics," Morrien forces a strangled chuckle. "Oh, Father, Father, father of mine. Father I had and lost; father I had again and lost again. My love, my kin, my family. Please, please don't leave me," finally her eyes water. The liquid pools, causing her already unnatural luminescent eyes to shine in a divine, unworldly sense.
"Oh God, Beloved. This curse. This unholy curse. I wish I did not have. This antagonizing hurt deep within my bosom, Father, so horrid I cannot bear it. I have only felt this twice before. I cannot hold myself a float much longer. Too many a times, Love! The bearer of my love who gave me a place when I did not have one. The life of one who graced me with my lovely name is about to be extinguished. I cannot live with such grief. Please, do not leave me to wither away, do not go to your paradise and leave me in hell. I cannot live without you. No other love can match yours. No other love can possibly sustain me!" she hisses. Barriers cannot stand solid; damn breaks and rivers flow. One after the other they come freely. Soon her face is drowned as his bed sheets are soggy. Sobs shake her into an oblivion of lost hope.
'No, no, no! Don't, dearest! Do not cry! Dry your mad tears and bear a fruit of happiness and love in your life!' he cries to her desperately, to make no change. She cannot hear him and so father and daughter weep together, hearts breaking together and souls shattering together, there is no hope. Fate and Destiny already decided by Death. Poor, futile, gone life. No more family.
/break/
"Come on! Again! Get up you worthless excuse of a Necromonger! Get up, Soldier! Prove yourself as a Necro Warrior! Again!" she snarls, her teeth bared and her fingers flexed like claws. "Come on!"
The beaten body of a very large, well toned man shudders. He curls up, trying to flinch away from her almost. He slowly raises, swaying dangerously on his feet. Morrien watches intently, waiting a while longer before making her move. He finally brings his hands up, enclosing them in fists, and crouching in a fighting stance.
All is quiet except for the many occupants of the room. Many spectators, one of which is the Commander Vaako, who had found his way into promotion since the mission that the Lord Marshal had commanded in vain. Morrien springs forward, lashing out in a kick that is deflected by the hard, muscular arm of the abused Necro Soldier she is "sparring" with. Using said arm as support, Morrien twists her body, swinging her other leg around to catch him in the temple. Both go down. Morrien lands in a predatory crouch and the soldier, defeated, on his back.
"Weak," Morrien sneers. She watches as a few fellow soldiers drag the losing man to the infirmary.
"You fight a low rank soldier. You would find more of a challenge if you weren't so intent on destroying the Armada from the inside," Vaako steps forward, staring straight into Morrien's eyes, never flinching, never afraid.
'A man must be very foolish or very powerful to defy me in such a way during my time of anger,' Morrien mentally notes. She takes in her opposer's stance in pride. Morrien smirks, both mocking Vaako and enjoying his obvious strength and courage. "And you would be that challenge?"
"You would so quickly and eagerly accept?"
"I've accepted nothing," Morrien scoffs, smirk still in place.
"Like the passing of a certain purifier."
Morrien lets loose an animalistic snarl before she herself could process her own actions. She can feel her muscles tense as if to take action, but she relaxes. "Tread carefully, Vaako. You're just a dog."
"Then what are you? You, yourself, are too a dog."
Morrien reviles in distain, shaking with sarcastic humor, "I, a dog? Far from it. You are a dog who can never escape his master! I am something more, I have no master. I am here by will and loyalty. I am no dog who rolls over by command. It would do you well to remember that."
"Then you admit to treason."
"I admit to no treason and I am not traitor. I have committed no crime. I cannot be convicted. Choose your words carefully, Vaako. I am not of a good moment."
Vaako smirks, clearly enjoying that he is rousing Morrien's frustration. "I'll keep that in mind."
Morrien bristles, much like the feline that all so often describe her as. "Do you challenge me,Vaako?"
"Challenge you? A mere silencer? Of course not."
"Tread carefully, Vaako. Come out with it then. Do you challenge me or not? This lovely silence!" Morrien's arm sweeps out, daring him casually, though her eyes are anything, but casual. "Come now, Vaako. Will you play with me? Much like how your Great Lord promised me?" Morrien quirks her brow and crooks her index finger, coaxing Vaako closer. She is challenging him herself. "I was only playing cat and mouse with the other one."
Vaako sneers at her. "I rather not."
'Two can play at this game, Black Tormentor. I just play it better. I know what you are doing and I admire it greatly. Exactly as a man should be,' Morrien marks to herself in her mind. "Afraid?"
"Hardly afraid."
"Then you should not walk away."
"I have yet to walk away."
"Then come. Play with me. Show me more game than that lowly ranked soldier did."
Vaako sneers, "Very well. You have your challenge." Vaako steps forward into the imaginary ring. All eyes are now on the two fighters. The many spectators watch carefully, not wanting to miss even a beat. Vaako sheds some of his heavier layers of his outfit, dropping them unceremoniously into the hands of a waiting lowly soldier who places it elsewhere with care. Vaako watches Morrien steadily, his countenance only expresses a stony, sober, blankness. A blank that radiates grim, dangerous, seriousness. This is an expression that Morrien bats away easily. A facade that she is most accustomed with in her line of work. It does not phase her in the least. "Come then, girl. You demanded for this conflict. Mark your first move."
In an attempt to keep her composure, Morrien stays silent, bringing the confrontation to one of wills. She moves, circling him, pushing him to do the same with her. The predatory stance that had never been absent heightens to its peak at this moment. Morrien's eyes narrow. Her eyes refuse to blink, or rather, they don't need to quite as often as a normal human would.
"Come now, girl. Those were big words. Do you have no strength to prove yourself? Coward."
"Buffoon..." Morrien hisses.
Vaako snarls, lashing out at her instantly. Morrien bounds away. Her perception is as focused as ever. She understands. This is a dangerous opponent. He wouldn't be Commander for nothing. Vaako in turn blinks as little as humanly possible without impairing his vision. He too realizes the gravity of this battle and his offender. She is not a force to be reckoned with if not prepared. Even the most skilled of soldiers could not escape her and here he now stands against her. Thrilling. This is a true war.
They are circling each other once more. No bodily gestures give way to their next planned blow. Vaako's eye twitches and Morrien's fingers curl. They dash at each other, head long, bearing everything they have. Morrien aims for Vaako's clavicle and Vaako aims for Morrien's sternum. The world bleeds away around them. They are the only ones in this bright black. They are the universe's lovers.
A bead of sweat pools in the dip of Vaako's right eye, seeping into it. A strand of stray hair catches itself between Morrien's lips. Eyes intent and focused on each others. Animalistic teeth bared at each other. In that very last second, before blows connect, a flash of something crosses their eyes. Something clicks. An understanding. Respect. A grim dawning. They are one and the same. One of a very unique kind of spirit. They have the same vengeance and the same distinction. They are genuine warriors. Fighters until the bitter end. They were of a dying breed. The last of the honor bound champions of old. They were legends...
A/N: Aaaah! Savor it! Hahaha, anyways, yes, short. I know. They're getting posted pretty fast though, so keep your panties on. Y'all be getting more soon. Besides, this chapter is longer than the last one! LOTS OF FEEDBACK PEOPLE! Lots of feedback brings lots of chapters. Man, I must really love you guys. Two chapters in a row!
