curseresistant | 001st Forged Devil: Like a Fallen Angel [Action, Voice]

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001st Forged Devil: Like a Fallen Angel [Action, Voice]

[The journal picks up a glimpse of the sky as it falls to the cold dirt, followed by a skewed view of the forest. Things are quiet -- almost eerily so.]

[That's when, with a horribly heavy-sounding thud, a pale-skinned, white-winged, and white-haired man unceremoniously drops into view, faint wisps of breath barely visible from his mouth. Were it not for that, he would certainly appear to be dead.]

[The feed cuts off not too long after that, the journal closed by a strong gust of wind.]

[Much later in the afternoon, before the shops close for the evening, Hector busies himself with finding his belongings. He lingers in the smithy for a while, browsing armor and weaponry before moving along to the plaza.]

I am told that these 'journals' can send my voice to others. If there are others listening, I am Hector. I have only recently arrived here in... Luceti.

Would any of you know where I could acquire [...] raw materials? I would like to... work on something.

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[But inarticulacy does not last – it was not him to hold his tongue for long.]

Lazy creature…! [He teases.] You would have others search for you? ...And you call yourself a Forgemaster?

[He has casual indifference and flippancy down to an art form at least verbally.]

[Hector had felt it the moment he had stirred from unconsciousness earlier that afternoon -- an energy that both familiar and foreign, almost reaching out to alert the white-haired man of its presence.]

[But he doesn't call out to Isaac, not at first; Julia's words come back to him, as clear as when she had first spoken them: 'My brother has always respected you.']

[Hector wracks his brain for hours for something to greet him with, tries to think of ways to getting in contact with Isaac even while he went about his business.]

[When the other Forgemaster's lilting voice comes through the journal, teasingly admonishing him, he laughs softly.]

I'd search myself, but I do not believe that these people would be so willing to aid me.

[...] I was wondering if I were, perhaps, going mad. I am glad to find that I have not yet lost my reason.

['Glad to know you are free of the curse,' are the words that remain unspoken.]

[Such a rare thing, the sound of Hector's laughter.]

Oh, very much here shall test your precious reason. ...Have you noticed what is on your back?

[Keeping things cool and matter-of-factly.]

Yes, much to my displeasure. Though, I shan't question how our captors have gathered the means through which they've accomplished such a feat just yet.

[...right, this can't be avoided forever. Hector takes a deep breath before speaking again.]

Have you... been here long, Isaac?

[He chuckles to himself, wondering since when Hector cared all that much about him. Though deciding it is naught but small-talk, he rolls with it still, but his deceptively light and pleasant tone is edged with a hint of anger.]

Quite long enough...

[But for all the hurt twisting deep inside him at the thought of this man, Hector's presence, like Julia's, now threw into question how ready he was to leave and return to the earth.]

I... see.

[He could hear that angered edge in Isaac's tone as easily as he could sense his power. Calm though the other Forgemaster seemed, Hector knew there was something amiss.]

[This simple conversation had enough potential to go wrong... and it was in far too public a place.]

[That... and Hector needed to see the other man. To know that this all wasn't just a trick of his mind.]

...I... would like to speak to you in person, Isaac. Is there anywhere... quiet for us to meet?

[He considers the question for a long moment.]

Make for the woods and stand before the doors of the Battledome, gazing outward. The rest... shall follow.

Very well.

[Hector closes his journal shortly after that. It takes him a short time to make his way to the dome that Isaac spoke of, still not completely familiar with this place; his arms are crossed against his chest as he stands with his back toward the doors.]

[Part of him seriously doubts that any of this is real -- that it still isn't just some horrible, unconscious trick of his mind -- but he waits patiently.]

[If this isn't all just a dream, he'll soon find out.]

[Arriving takes no time at all given that he had long since mastered the art of teleportation, the magical potential to learn it innate to both himself and Julia. It’s deciding on how to approach Hector that takes far longer. But eventually, the leathery flapping of wings fills the air, drawing ever nearer until Isaac appears with Firebrand’s talons in his grip, gliding lazily until he eventually touches down a few feet away from Hector. A smile plays his thin lips.]

As easily lured as always, I see.

[It's all he can think to say while offering his former friend an appraising look, unapologetic for having made him wait. But surprised, in a way, that he had.]

... Making as grand an entrance as ever.

[The faintest hint of a laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head faintly. He can't help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips; all of this is somewhat funny to him. He hasn't had time to properly adjust.

It's surreal, seeing Isaac when he had just defeated him before being whisked away to this... place. He was sure his fellow Forgemaster was dead, yet he was standing here as though nothing had happened at all.]

There are certainly mysterious forces at work here.

[He cocks his head, eyes widening in mock-incredulity.] … What is this? A sense of humour? [Such a rare sound - he hadn’t heard Hector laugh in years. Long has it been since he could stand before his fellow Forgemaster with neither of them lunging at each others throats; somehow, this tenuous peace is infinitely more uncomfortable to him.] Have you struck your head on something along the way?

[Snorting softly, he looks to Firebrand hovering at his side and extending a hand to scratch it fondly under its snout as one might a kitten.]

Mysterious forces, indeed… [He muses aloud, smiling mirthlessly at the thought of his own unnatural existence. Dead flesh reanimated once more. Did you grieve, he is tempted to ask on a whim, wondering with a sharp twist in his gut what he meant to Hector if anything at all - - but he bites it back, watching Firebrand's eyelids slide shut in pleasure as he continues to scratch.]

If one counts my rather abrupt arrival? Yes. [Another laugh.]

[Hector watches the loving motion Isaac directs toward Firebrand, and is silent a moment. Again, his thoughts run around in circles, wondering if he should stop avoiding the inevitable and get straight to the point.]

[It takes a moment of silent courage-gathering before he speaks again, his voice soft and hesitant -- fearing the red-head's reaction.]

I... I'm sorry.

[This was not the direction he had anticipated their conversation taking and it shows in the slight narrowing of his eyes and the tilt to his head, his eyes fixed on him. But before anything else, he huffs a laugh, an instinctual response to a situation that was uncomfortably unfamiliar.]

Sorry…? [He echoes almost incredulously, a bitter little smile on his lips as if it were a cruel joke. And in a way, it is, wasn’t it? Had he any sense of the pain he’d caused, fleeing without word and robbing him of his only companion? A loss that had precipitated his downward spiral into the maddened, fanatical devotion that had doomed him. Isaac swallows slowly and tenses his jaw, his tone wavering between amusement and accusation.]

...For what?

[Hector, aggrieved by those pangs of his conscience Isaac did not share in common, had had his reasons to flee -- but really, Isaac muses restlessly, what had he expected a creature as ruthless as Dracula to have them do.]

[There is a moment of hesitance, a moment of silent contemplation. Dozens of 'what if's and 'I should have's come to mind, but he knows that Isaac wouldn't have shared the sentiments behind them.]

[Isaac, after all, was so very different from him, the night to Hector's day. It had been that difference that eventually led Hector to leave Dracula's castle altogether -- Isaac was ruthless, and without compassion for those that may have judged him.]

[Wishful thinking wouldn't have changed his past.]

[Hector swallows thickly, averting his gaze.]

I should have done... something. Anything that could have kept you from... from your fate.

['From becoming a vessel for Dracula.']

[The white-haired man remained silent for a while after that, bracing himself for the angered response he expected to come.]

[It should move him what of a heart he has left to see the subtle signs of a struggle that came with an admission that was perhaps years in the making. But his features remain firmly set, his eyes cool. Only the telling ripple of a muscle in his jaw exposes his veneer of composure for what it is.]

But you did not.

[He answers, matter of factly. Met with these words that could do nothing to bring years of his life back, all he can think to do is to nod softly after a moment, the barest of smiles returning as if to reassure Hector that it was okay. Everything would be okay. That all was forgiven.

It was his own fault, too, and there was not a day that passed when he did not rue having expected too much in the ways of recognition and approval from that that bloated leech. Having both been judged and scorned by man, he’d thought at least this much would form the foundation of a bond between himself and the dark lord. A sense of being wanted, being needed, belonging. A reason to live. That was what had mattered. And what terrible things he had done, willingly, in search of that approval.]

[The lack of an outburst is a relief and a source of confusion. Where was his anger, his mockery of Hector's emotions? Was he not angry?]

[A knot, constricting and painful, forms in his throat. It takes him several seconds -- stretched out into painful eternity -- to speak again.]

That is why I am sorry; because I could have prevented it all, but I did not.

[Hector allows himself to look up again, meeting Isaac's eyes. That faint hint of a smile, the slight nod of Isaac's head, makes him thankful that he had gathered the will to speak.]

[It’s a shame these gestures of his aren’t sincere.]

No. ‘twould seem you had quite enjoyed yourself for the three years you spent away, mingling with man.

[A tired bitterness flashes dully in his eyes, and undercurrent of accusation running like a thread through his words. You willed me from your mind. You had no intention of returning. I waited; I waited, and for what?] I was loath to disturb you.

Edited 2012-11-27 06:31 (UTC)

[He should have known that the act was a facade. It's already too late when the first inkling of doubt runs through Hector's mind, and a faint scowl suddenly twists his lips when Isaac speaks.]

I'm sure you were. Is that not why you acted the way you did?

[He purposefully avoids bringing up the subject of Rosaly, knowing that, in their world, the red-head has already paid the ultimate price. No sense bringing up what has already been resolved.]

I do not think in the same manner as you, Isaac. Despite all that has been done, I could not bring myself to harm the innocent; I would have faltered in the end.

[The answer inspires more than a mere roll of his eyes. Isaac lets them fall shut - the line of his jaw sharpening - and he just takes a slow breath through his nose, absently sucking in his cheek as a petulant child might.]

No… You don’t.

[That they do not think alike is perhaps all they can agree on, for taking action against the humans hadn't been his point.]

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001st Forged Devil: Like a Fallen Angel [Action, Voice]

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HECTOR YOU DRAMA QUEEN