Darkness is Light

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

He smelled them. The familiar scent drew him like a bee to honey;melting away from the Queen while she consulted Marius. He has been a lurking shadow since then, out of sight, biding his time with the self-proclaimed promise of violence. He knew they were far from fond of each other, and now they are in disarray while the blood of Yeshua coats the stone floors in a macabre mosaic of Mystique's making.

Now, when their alliance hangs by the most precarious of threads, is when he strike; and he will take her out, the strongest first.

Teeth and claws, bone and flesh, reveal themselves in split-second anticipation of deadly impact.

Comments

[silver-sable.livejournal.com]

"Steven."

Silver, for just a moment, wavers on the edge of actually being truly emotional. There /might/ even be a quiver of a lip in there somewhere. She carefully pushes herself up from the floor. "God, Steven, it is good to see you alive still."

[spidey2099.livejournal.com]

Morph's own horror makes him feel a little better about his own. He's done some awful things, but they've mostly been accidental. Self-defense, monster-killing... they're good reasons. Justified reasons.

This is still horrible. Hopefully Strange can wish it all away.


Come on, Tallus. Speak to me.

[sorcererstrange.livejournal.com]

Strange is awash in startled recognition. Silver's voice makes him pause and he stares at her intently. His hand half raises to touch her white hair, his eyes lost in recollection, but he forestalls the gesture and withdraws his hand as if touching Sable's locks would burn him. He quickly averts his eyes from her as a shadow of old pain surges in his heart. He unconsciously rubs he bare finger where his wedding ring used to rest.

Then he notes Mystique's offer of a cigarette. Against expected character he takes it. Rather than bring it to his mouth however he walks over to the gory remains of Logan.

Holding the smoldering tobacco before him he gestures over it and the ember blooms into a flower of fire. The blaze spring from the now blackened cigarette and alights in Strange's palm. It dances and crackles with a life all it's own. A word from Strange and the tiny elemental leaps from its perch and dives into the grisly remains spread over the floor, burring as it touches. Soon there is nothing but ash and bone. There will be no regeneration.

As the fire dies down, Strange's face is filled with sadness and he whispers a funeral poem fitting for the Samurai he once knew.




He turns back to the group.

--------------------------------

[spidey2099.livejournal.com]

His head bows. Such an unrelenting atmosphere of horror and sadness.

"Where is the Darkhold?"

[sorcererstrange.livejournal.com]

He rubs his temple, trying to clear the spider webs of disorientation.



With a look of bleak determination he returns his gaze to the level of thier eyes.




A series of harsh painful sounding syllables are uttered and his eyes loose focus. Then, he points in an eastern direction.