Nothing sounded now.
The droning had ended, and the heat signatures had melted away.
The crest broke, and what lie in its wake was powerful.
Reminiscent of that first primordial ooze:
Slowly, ever so slowly, life was flowing back into motion.
Blood cells were fusing together and tearing apart. Veins and arteries twisted, clenched, and surged. What was left of the silver nitrate was dissolving as the dominant, compounded lifeblood asserted itself in the body. Bones knit themselves together and ripped themselves apart in unfamiliar new ways. Grating together, the core and the essence of his being locked together in a deathgrip tight upon his soul. The ignorant horror of his pain coursed through him, and he retched down the front of his tattered shirt.
As his cells mutated, Lucian laughed a silent open-mouth groan. Death, life, her death, his life.... What did anything matter? Why did he persist? But all that was washed away in the next seizure of pain. For the first time, in a long time, he was experiencing something bordering on--fear? This, too, caused him to laugh...that strange noise again.
"Hwaachh," Lucian heard that. His body mocked his lucid mind so that during the rest of the transformation he remained silent. His body screamed and swore at him for a few minutes more. Now, he had the power to stand. He didn't move.
He was sure this was the moment for reflection. He rebelled against the opportunity. Oh, how he ached. Even as he drew breath and sought his footing in the rubble, his body was ridding itself of anguish, of the memories. Now emotional, now physical. It was gone.
Lucian did not feel numb. He had had too much practice over the years. Never before had it felt like practice. Always it had been a suppressed rage that sustained him. This feeling...was not new.... He identified it. Enlightenment.
In achieving one's goals, one either feels deflation or the ability to move mountains. Lucian felt love. Shaking the debris from his ruined clothes, he felt free. "Like loving Her," he mused.
Duty had once bound him. One might argue that he was still duty-bound, but one was not there to argue with him. Serving Sonja had been the meaning of life. It was the boon granted by his Lord, Viktor, in the same manner that fish have to swim and birds to fly. The ordering of life had been different then. Slavery's initial incarnation was a distant cousin to its modern conception. Dinosaurs to crocodiles.
Each privilege was precious. Despite its debase, disgusting way of life, that enslavement had provided Lucian with the Reason Why. His past, present, and future could be justified...because of her. But that life that had once been his was no longer, and the world had changed greatly. Lost in his own thoughts, Lucian crunched across bits of gravel and cement as he collected those items that had been left behind.
Amelia's vials of blood; a single syringe, a quarter-filled with the Decendent's lifeforce. The awareness that something in the fabric of the world had changed was all around him. From slave, to master, to teacher, Lucian's path had once more altered, never to return to what it had been. Unconsciously, though, he was still searching for something...his hand fidgeted. With empty air. An expression of shock came across Lucian's face. Disbelief, then the anger. Lucian forgot his intention was to remain impassive, as he was swept-up, awash in rage.
What is one supposed to feel recollecting his enlightenment? Though Lucian had been remembering the rise from his lowly status of slave with an almost affectionate air, his blood boiled for the second time that evening. The medallion had become more than just a symbol of Sonja and his union with her. It was the emblem of stolen power, raped from the Vampyres, and the promise of permanent change to come. More than that, it had been the symbol of everything that he had done.
Was. Where the F*ck was it. His eyes widened and narrowed. They flashed around the room with such malice that it was inconceivable he had ever loved anything or anyone. "Grraaawwwwwl."
The low, guttural growl died away as he realized there were only a few who would have dared strip his corpse of its gold prize. It was a trinket to no one.
"Well now. We are just going to go and get it back."
With that, Lucian stalked out.
The droning had ended, and the heat signatures had melted away.
The crest broke, and what lie in its wake was powerful.
Reminiscent of that first primordial ooze:
Slowly, ever so slowly, life was flowing back into motion.
Blood cells were fusing together and tearing apart. Veins and arteries twisted, clenched, and surged. What was left of the silver nitrate was dissolving as the dominant, compounded lifeblood asserted itself in the body. Bones knit themselves together and ripped themselves apart in unfamiliar new ways. Grating together, the core and the essence of his being locked together in a deathgrip tight upon his soul. The ignorant horror of his pain coursed through him, and he retched down the front of his tattered shirt.
As his cells mutated, Lucian laughed a silent open-mouth groan. Death, life, her death, his life.... What did anything matter? Why did he persist? But all that was washed away in the next seizure of pain. For the first time, in a long time, he was experiencing something bordering on--fear? This, too, caused him to laugh...that strange noise again.
"Hwaachh," Lucian heard that. His body mocked his lucid mind so that during the rest of the transformation he remained silent. His body screamed and swore at him for a few minutes more. Now, he had the power to stand. He didn't move.
He was sure this was the moment for reflection. He rebelled against the opportunity. Oh, how he ached. Even as he drew breath and sought his footing in the rubble, his body was ridding itself of anguish, of the memories. Now emotional, now physical. It was gone.
Lucian did not feel numb. He had had too much practice over the years. Never before had it felt like practice. Always it had been a suppressed rage that sustained him. This feeling...was not new.... He identified it. Enlightenment.
In achieving one's goals, one either feels deflation or the ability to move mountains. Lucian felt love. Shaking the debris from his ruined clothes, he felt free. "Like loving Her," he mused.
Duty had once bound him. One might argue that he was still duty-bound, but one was not there to argue with him. Serving Sonja had been the meaning of life. It was the boon granted by his Lord, Viktor, in the same manner that fish have to swim and birds to fly. The ordering of life had been different then. Slavery's initial incarnation was a distant cousin to its modern conception. Dinosaurs to crocodiles.
Each privilege was precious. Despite its debase, disgusting way of life, that enslavement had provided Lucian with the Reason Why. His past, present, and future could be justified...because of her. But that life that had once been his was no longer, and the world had changed greatly. Lost in his own thoughts, Lucian crunched across bits of gravel and cement as he collected those items that had been left behind.
Amelia's vials of blood; a single syringe, a quarter-filled with the Decendent's lifeforce. The awareness that something in the fabric of the world had changed was all around him. From slave, to master, to teacher, Lucian's path had once more altered, never to return to what it had been. Unconsciously, though, he was still searching for something...his hand fidgeted. With empty air. An expression of shock came across Lucian's face. Disbelief, then the anger. Lucian forgot his intention was to remain impassive, as he was swept-up, awash in rage.
What is one supposed to feel recollecting his enlightenment? Though Lucian had been remembering the rise from his lowly status of slave with an almost affectionate air, his blood boiled for the second time that evening. The medallion had become more than just a symbol of Sonja and his union with her. It was the emblem of stolen power, raped from the Vampyres, and the promise of permanent change to come. More than that, it had been the symbol of everything that he had done.
Was. Where the F*ck was it. His eyes widened and narrowed. They flashed around the room with such malice that it was inconceivable he had ever loved anything or anyone. "Grraaawwwwwl."
The low, guttural growl died away as he realized there were only a few who would have dared strip his corpse of its gold prize. It was a trinket to no one.
"Well now. We are just going to go and get it back."
With that, Lucian stalked out.