Author Topic: Panorama (Erskine and his [OC] sister) (M)  (Read 345 times)


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Panorama (Erskine and his [OC] sister) (M)
« on: November 13, 2016, 08:31:39 PM »
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Little bit of backgroud: Melancholia St Clair has decided to start bringing people back from the dead. Some she has forced to do her bidding, others she's just brought back for the craic. Blah blah, the rest isn't important. She's not even in this.
Chimera Marfach is Erskine's sister. Annie was his wife. She gave birth to a girl named Oblivion Armageddon while she was alive.

Chimera is keeping something from her brother. Actually, he's sure that she's keeping many things, but this is different. This time, she's mad at him.

He watches her nervously as she makes tea, her movements stiff and almost disjointed. The kitchen is quiet, all he can hear is the sound of the kettle boiling, the hot water sloshing into mugs and the slight cling as she stirs milk into two cups. Once finished, Marfach places a mug down in front of him with such force that he winces, expecting the ceramic to smash.

Painfully aware of his sister's every movement, Erskine Ravel keeps his eyes on the rim of his mug, worried of what he will see if he raises his golden eyes to hers. And so he sits, tense like a coiled jack-in-the-box, waiting for her to spring. She sips her tea, and he senses her cold gaze on him, making him anxious. He knots his hands together on his lap - a nervous habit both siblings share.

The tension in the room is so thick, one could cut it with a knife. Marfach does so, though with a dagger. The blade spins past Erskine's head and lodges itself firmly in the door frame behind him. He jumps and raises his head.

Usually, this would be when she'd give him a smug smile and tell him of some tale that she'd either lived through or read about. But her usual grin is absent, her golden eyes void of emotion as she looks him over once - twice - and sips her tea again.

Finally, he can't stand it any longer. The man with the golden eyes clears his throat, terrified of whatever it is his sister has to say. She raises her eyebrows at him, not divulging any information. He shuffles in his seat awkwardly, his hands so tightly entwined that his knuckles are turning white.

Chimera stands and boils the kettle again. Erskine's tea is going cold.

After a moment of Chimera tapping her fingertips against the counter top, Erskine clears his throat again. His eyes settle on his sister's and he falters. His voice trembles as he mutters, "What is it?" He isn't sure if he wants the answer, but he knows he has to ask nonetheless.

The younger mage pauses for a moment, her tapping continuing, though somehow sounding louder to her brother's ears, a steady thrum thrum thrum that pounds in his head and reverberates down his spine. Abruptly, the noise falters before stopping altogether. Her voice sends shards of pain into his head, searing through his mind.

"I was talking to Serpine," she says, her voice soft. He can't figure out if this the calm before the storm - or the storm itself, deadly in its finesse and cold calculation. Erskine may not be one of the good guys, but he is nowhere near the level of his sister, who is well-skilled at breaking people.

He cannot meet her hard stare as he swallows, eyes fixed on the cold tiled ground beneath his bare feet. The dust dances slightly as Chimera takes a step towards him, swaying at her disturbance. His mind is fixed on the fact that he needs to hoover.

Better to be thinking of that than other things, anyway. It's best not to let his mind wander onto...

Chimera ruins it. She tends to ruin a lot of things, "What would Annie think?"

The floor is suddenly too cold, the tense air between him and his sister heavy with rays and disappointment. What would Annie think? His Annie? He doesn't know. And he doesn't want to.

He doesn't feel his legs give out beneath him, only knows that he is standing one minute and the next, he is not. Erskine is finding breathing difficult, his throat tight and his chest even tighter. He remembers someone else who was tight...

He feels awful. Guilt flows through his veins and dishonesty is as common to him as the air he breathes. For Erskine is in love. Not with Nefarian Serpine. That is the worst thing: he has no excuse for taking his wife's murderer to bed.

His sister reaches a hand down to him and he grasps it, borrowing her strength to pull himself up. He is stunned that either of them have any strength left. Slowly, he moves to sit down and Chimera makes herself another cup of tea. There's a weight on Erskine's shoulders that he can't seem to shake. For centuries, he's bundled up his love inside of him, pretended that it didn't exist. And then he slept with the man who had made him a widower in the first place.

He had brought shame down on his own shoulders, a crippling pain on his spine that makes him wish to bend over backwards so as not to allow it burden him. Instead, he sits up straighter and tries his very best not to let it cripple him.

He has tried so very hard not to bring shame down on his family's crest. And he has failed. Erskine Ravel is without hope. Slowly, ever so slowly, his sister wishes him goodnight and leaves him alone with his cold tea and lack of soul. He holds no hope in his heart, which is quite ironic, really.

Erskine Ravel is in love with Hopeless.

And in turn, the hope has seeped out of him, leaving him with a numb, hollow heart, and nothing but shame to fill the void in his being.

« Last Edit: January 06, 2017, 02:42:34 PM by marfach »

"oh, but I'm a villain, darling - and villains don't get happy endings."

Rekindled & Panorama


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Panorama - Extra: FLASHES (M)
« Reply #1 on: January 06, 2017, 02:41:05 PM »
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this is quite an odd style, so please bare that in mind...

The Gaol.
Far below the Sanctuary, with its light and people and smiles.
It's been cleared out, bar the one man,
Who is slumped over with his head resting against his cell bars,
His eyes shut against the darkness.

The Necromancer's cloak scrapes against the ground
Her footsteps slow and heavy on the wooden stairs.
With each step,
She gets closer to the lonely man, but he doesn't seem to even notice that she's there at all.

"Imagine it, Mar, a world ruled by sorcerers. A world ruled by us. Imagine the glory."

A glass of water, clutched in the woman's hands
Is raised to the bars, and the man looks up.

His golden eyes are rimmed with tears,
Haunted with a pain that one could never imagine
His sister's look much the same.

"Imagine the carnage."

His trembling hands reach for the glass,
Water sloshing over his bloodied knuckles and dampening his pale, cracked skin.
It is not difficult to recognise the question on his face.

"It's not poisoned," the woman whispers,
An apology in the tender touch of her fingers against his.
"They gave it to me."
The guards at the top of the steps have left, but for a pair so well-versed in war and betrayal,
It isn't difficult to know when they are being watched.

The glass is raised to his red lips,
Chapped, cracked and painful.
The water, spilling over them and into his mouth, feels welcome -
Long overdue, as it runs down his throat,
The red, raw and painful feeling seeping from his body
As if he does not spend almost all of his time screaming.

Eternal screams of dying souls,
Screams of those with shreds of hope left.
Screams of those who still dream of the world
In which they were ignorant of magic -
In which they were ignorant of those who wielded it.

He still does not speak as he lowers the glass from his lips,
Droplets of water clinging to his skin.

"Enchanted," his sister says simply,
Leaning her head against the cool bars of his cell.
"I'm sorry that I can not kill you."

The rivers run with red, red, red
The streets are lined with corpses
Man, woman, child and mage.

He reaches to grasp her hand, slowly, tentatively, reaches out to just hold her,
But he can not.

"We all make mistakes," the golden-eyed man tells his sister as she cries into his arms.
"Yet, the plague of our family is that our mistakes, they tend to be larger than most."

As his fingers reach the space between the bars,
He realises that his hand will not go any further.
They've cut him off from her. Again.

"She told you?!" the woman screeches, shadows curling around her fists, barely controlled rage in her golden eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mar," her brother mutters, "I did not ask her to do so."
"And yet that is exactly what she did," she mumbles,
Her voice hollow as the shadows return to nothing more than regular shade and she turns away from her older sibling.

And they screech, mortal and sorcerer alike
As the fire, the smoke and the ash
Threaten to burn, suffocate and kill every single one.
Abilities do not matter when the human race sets out to destroy itself -
Unknowingly, or not.

The jailed man lets out a sob, one of the first sounds he's made since his screaming quietened down.
"Mar...' he whispers, the tears escaping down his face as he trembles.
"It hurts, Mar."

"This is what happens," the blonde woman says, regarding the carnage with a numb detachment,
"When one part of humanity sets out to rule the other.
This is what happens when peace breaks down, and sanity is lost."

"I know," she replies quietly, "I know it does and I'm sorry, brother, I really am."
The despair in his eyes almost breaks what is left of her rotting, fractured heart.

"Where is she?" the man asks, his voice familiar but his face just one of many.
"Where is that little girl now?"
The Necromancer just mutters "dead", before shoving past him
And leaving him to stare, in shock.

"Why aren't they experimenting on me today?" the man asks,
His voice not even hurting his throat as he speaks,
Though it pounds inside his head.
"I requested to see you," his sister says, "I was worried."
Despite it all, despite everything, he smiles.

When all is gone and all is done,
Perhaps at the end, there will only be one.
One race, one type of human being,
But if that happens, it won't be freeing.

"You lied to me," she accuses, and the man looks at her in shock.
"You always scolded me: the assassin, the traitor. Look at you now."
She bends over, her lips as close to her brother's ear as the barrier allows,
"But I'll tell you a secret," she whispers.
"I forgive you."

And in the pool of scarlet blood,
A woman stands with stained red skin,
Her dark robe dripping and her smile, malicious.

"I love you, Mar," the man whispers, his voice sorrowful as she glances down at her watch.
His hour is almost up.

"You're a witch!" a scared man cries, his voice trembling
And his hands shaking as he clutches them, terrified,
To his bleeding side.
"Oh no," she smiles, "I'm not a witch. Witches have nothing on me."

"I love you too."
She's not crying, but her hands are trembling as she holds onto the bars of what she's come to know as a 'cage'.

"Remember, Mar," he says as she stands up.
"Do not trust anyone."
She nods, but he's not finished. "And don't forget, love can always be used to wound more than that whip ."

"You do not know fear. You do not know me."

His screams erupt from behind her before she even has time to climb the stairs.
Unable to look back at him for fear of what she'll see, she only says,
"Goodbye, brother."

Perhaps, somehow, in some other world, they could have been together. Side by side, the golden-eyed siblings.
Perhaps, somehow.
Yet, in our world, they always end up alone.

I wrote this so long ago... It's pretty bad, but I thought I'd put it up just for personal improvement purposes :)

"oh, but I'm a villain, darling - and villains don't get happy endings."

Rekindled & Panorama