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Aeon (updated 10/9/14)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sepulchrave II" data-source="post: 5754413" data-attributes="member: 4303"><p><strong>Perspective (Midwinter Goddess: Epilogue)</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>[Nehael/<em>Eleos</em>]: Shomei…</p><p></p><p>[Shomei]: Piss off.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>Mostin stood upon the veranda with Mulissu, watching as the shape approached at incredible speed from the south through the swagging winter skies.</p><p></p><p>Qematiel landed in an inferno, obliterating trees within a swathe a hundred yards across, and setting many more ablaze. A great gout of steam erupted as snow melted and boiled, blown outward by a shockwave of ionizing gas. Shomei leaped down, and strode towards them; the frozen earth shuddered and ignited at her passage. A gale of hellfire preceded her.</p><p></p><p>“She is upset,” the Alienist observed.</p><p></p><p>“I should probably go,” Mulissu said.</p><p></p><p>“That might be best,” Mostin agreed.</p><p></p><p>The savant discreetly absented herself.</p><p></p><p>Shomei paused at the bottom of the steps, closing her eyes tightly and clenching her fists. She slowly mastered her rage. The flames subsided.</p><p></p><p>“Would you like tea?” Mostin asked.</p><p></p><p>She glared at him. His hat began to smoulder.</p><p></p><p>“Enough!” Mostin thundered, casting off his headgear and stamping on it. “I will tolerate the damage to my shrubbery, but this is my favorite felt. Control yourself. And don’t think you can intimidate me with your dragon; have you ever seen an <em>Ú</em>?” The vowel was pronounced with undue length, and accompanied a tilted head and a mad stare.</p><p></p><p>The fire left her. She suddenly seemed exhausted.</p><p></p><p>“Gooood…” Mostin said. “Now. Perhaps you should slow down; I think you might be pushing yourself too hard.”</p><p></p><p>“I want the <em>Urn</em>, Mostin,” she sighed.</p><p></p><p>“Well, yes dear. We all want the <em>Urn</em>, don’t we?”</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>“Marriage?” Mostin scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. Wizards don’t get <em>married</em>; matrimony is for inferior beings. You are letting your infernality dictate your actions above your proper calling. And your social graces are also suffering.”</p><p></p><p>“He is the <em>Ahma</em>. It would be a sound alliance.” Shomei lounged. She was intoxicated. “But Soneillon has him all confused and irrational again. I even offered to practice compassion.”</p><p></p><p>“You are too <em>religious</em>, Shomei,” the Alienist grumbled. “That’s your problem. It’s always <em>been</em> your problem. All of this nonsense about God and now compassion. Interfering with their doctrine because you think that their mystical claptrap needs reformulating. And planting trees? Your automagnification is all very well, but you’ll end madder than Hlioth at this rate.”</p><p></p><p>“Nehael is manipulating him,” Shomei sighed. “He seems oblivious; he’s elevated her to the status of Oronthon’s empathic function because of some off-the-cuff remark which the <em>Sela</em> made to Nwm. And he has such <em>potential</em>, Mostin. Meanwhile, he empowers her instead; she just sits back and waits for him to bring her the <em>Urn</em>. Her lack of agency – or rather her persistent need to act through him – is beginning to annoy me. She is so <em>disingenuous</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“She would be the first to admit to her own inertia,” Mostin nodded. “Have you considered approaching Soneillon non-violently?”</p><p></p><p>“She is unlikely to surrender the <em>Urn</em> willingly, Mostin. The <em>Ahma</em> is of the opinion that an assault is unwarranted; Soneillon’s demons have yet to wreak havoc. And now he is at Deorham, indulging her whims and demonstrating <em>compassion</em>; which Nehael sucks out of him like some green vampire. I can’t stage an assault while he’s there.”</p><p></p><p>“Why ever not?” Mostin inquired. “Not that I’d like to see any harm come to Eadric.” He hastily added.</p><p></p><p>“He is the <em>Ahma</em>, Mostin.”</p><p></p><p>“I do not understand,” the Alienist sighed.</p><p></p><p>“It is a <em>religious</em> thing, Mostin. You wouldn’t.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, no. I suppose not. Would you like to stay for supper? I plan to infuse Mei with pseudostuff tomorrow, and would like your opinion on the formula.”</p><p></p><p>“Sorry, Mostin,” she stood uncertainly. “I should probably go; I have more devils to conjure. And I’m sorry about the hat,” she dusted it off, and placed it on her head. “Do you think it suits me?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Mostin replied. “But you can’t have it.”</p><p></p><p>“A shame. Thank-you, Mostin. You’re a good influence on me.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes. I am.”</p><p></p><p>She walked unsteadily towards the door.</p><p></p><p>“And Shomei?”</p><p></p><p>She turned to face him.</p><p></p><p>“If you set yourself against the Claviger, I will be forced to protect the Articles. Just so we’re clear.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sepulchrave II, post: 5754413, member: 4303"] [B]Perspective (Midwinter Goddess: Epilogue)[/B] [Nehael/[I]Eleos[/I]]: Shomei… [Shomei]: Piss off. ** Mostin stood upon the veranda with Mulissu, watching as the shape approached at incredible speed from the south through the swagging winter skies. Qematiel landed in an inferno, obliterating trees within a swathe a hundred yards across, and setting many more ablaze. A great gout of steam erupted as snow melted and boiled, blown outward by a shockwave of ionizing gas. Shomei leaped down, and strode towards them; the frozen earth shuddered and ignited at her passage. A gale of hellfire preceded her. “She is upset,” the Alienist observed. “I should probably go,” Mulissu said. “That might be best,” Mostin agreed. The savant discreetly absented herself. Shomei paused at the bottom of the steps, closing her eyes tightly and clenching her fists. She slowly mastered her rage. The flames subsided. “Would you like tea?” Mostin asked. She glared at him. His hat began to smoulder. “Enough!” Mostin thundered, casting off his headgear and stamping on it. “I will tolerate the damage to my shrubbery, but this is my favorite felt. Control yourself. And don’t think you can intimidate me with your dragon; have you ever seen an [I]Ú[/I]?” The vowel was pronounced with undue length, and accompanied a tilted head and a mad stare. The fire left her. She suddenly seemed exhausted. “Gooood…” Mostin said. “Now. Perhaps you should slow down; I think you might be pushing yourself too hard.” “I want the [I]Urn[/I], Mostin,” she sighed. “Well, yes dear. We all want the [I]Urn[/I], don’t we?” ** “Marriage?” Mostin scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. Wizards don’t get [I]married[/I]; matrimony is for inferior beings. You are letting your infernality dictate your actions above your proper calling. And your social graces are also suffering.” “He is the [I]Ahma[/I]. It would be a sound alliance.” Shomei lounged. She was intoxicated. “But Soneillon has him all confused and irrational again. I even offered to practice compassion.” “You are too [I]religious[/I], Shomei,” the Alienist grumbled. “That’s your problem. It’s always [I]been[/I] your problem. All of this nonsense about God and now compassion. Interfering with their doctrine because you think that their mystical claptrap needs reformulating. And planting trees? Your automagnification is all very well, but you’ll end madder than Hlioth at this rate.” “Nehael is manipulating him,” Shomei sighed. “He seems oblivious; he’s elevated her to the status of Oronthon’s empathic function because of some off-the-cuff remark which the [I]Sela[/I] made to Nwm. And he has such [I]potential[/I], Mostin. Meanwhile, he empowers her instead; she just sits back and waits for him to bring her the [I]Urn[/I]. Her lack of agency – or rather her persistent need to act through him – is beginning to annoy me. She is so [I]disingenuous[/I].” “She would be the first to admit to her own inertia,” Mostin nodded. “Have you considered approaching Soneillon non-violently?” “She is unlikely to surrender the [I]Urn[/I] willingly, Mostin. The [I]Ahma[/I] is of the opinion that an assault is unwarranted; Soneillon’s demons have yet to wreak havoc. And now he is at Deorham, indulging her whims and demonstrating [I]compassion[/I]; which Nehael sucks out of him like some green vampire. I can’t stage an assault while he’s there.” “Why ever not?” Mostin inquired. “Not that I’d like to see any harm come to Eadric.” He hastily added. “He is the [I]Ahma[/I], Mostin.” “I do not understand,” the Alienist sighed. “It is a [I]religious[/I] thing, Mostin. You wouldn’t.” “Well, no. I suppose not. Would you like to stay for supper? I plan to infuse Mei with pseudostuff tomorrow, and would like your opinion on the formula.” “Sorry, Mostin,” she stood uncertainly. “I should probably go; I have more devils to conjure. And I’m sorry about the hat,” she dusted it off, and placed it on her head. “Do you think it suits me?” “Yes,” Mostin replied. “But you can’t have it.” “A shame. Thank-you, Mostin. You’re a good influence on me.” “Yes. I am.” She walked unsteadily towards the door. “And Shomei?” She turned to face him. “If you set yourself against the Claviger, I will be forced to protect the Articles. Just so we’re clear.” * [/QUOTE]
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