pegunicent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pegunicent) wrote2013-11-06 08:22 pm
pegunicent) wrote2013-11-06 08:22 pm
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Decimate couldn't talk, not in any human language, but he was very good at making himself understood. A tilt of the head, a rustle of wings, the clicking of claws or baring of teeth and a huff appropriately timed spoke well enough for him.
Zeke was the one who understood him best, but not for the reasons others assumed. While the steel collar around his throat did bind him, and the blood and bone in the lock that held it closed were Zeke's, there was no magical communication or telepathy. Zeke read his moods in his behavior, in the way he shifted or growled, his impatience with his meals or the unsubtle jostling of elbows with a velvety muzzle.
So to did Decimate understand his Wizard, though he also listened to the words that Zeke muttered to himself all the time. Decimate couldn't speak, but he had the blood of dragons in his veins and so the gift of understanding all tongues spoken under the great burning balls of fire known as the suns.
Decimate knew Zeke's scents, his tones, the myriad of gestures he would make when speaking to the walls and world. Decimate could smell the changes in his Wizard when he became exhausted or hear the edge of mania that signaled too long on a single problem. The twitches that signaled the cusp of brilliance were distinct from those that heralded a short collapse from hunger. To Decimate, whose world was comprised of a giant ball of dirt filled with people and animals that called to his instincts as dinner, Zeke was the only one worth paying attention to. Zeke was the only living creature with significance or importance.
Part of Decimate remembered times when this wasn't the case. Enough of Decimate remembered love, friendship, packs, laughter, and a desire to belong to others. Within Decimate still lay a small fragment of psyche that labeled itself Vence. Vence wasn't sure who, or what he was, within Decimate. Vence existed mostly as an idea, the ghost of memories, with just enough solidity to bear a name and a fixation upon Zeke.
Decimate is made of many small bits like Vence, but Vence alone had a name within Decimate. Despite his inability to produce words, and his bestial, monstrous appearance, Decimate was fairly intelligent. Enough to have taken and passed any test set before him if such tests could be prepared. He knew he was unique, and that he was un-natural. He knew that he was a chimera unlike any other, and that what he was trumped the idea of him also being a who in human thinking. He was smart enough, in fact, to read the complex mystical texts Zeke poured over day and night and he knew what his Wizard ultimately wanted to do with his arcane powers.
Zeke was going to destroy him. At the very least he would kill him in trying to destroy him.
The intelligent thing to do would be to kill Zeke, before he gained the knowledge and courage to go about his plans. The clever thing to do would be to lead Zeke astray, watch over him, and make sure no one else got it in their heads to do the same, or worse.
Decimate was both intelligent and clever, but neither trait kept him close to Zeke. Zeke was his Wizard. Zeke was the only living thing that Decimate cared for, and the only one that cared for him. Zeke knew not just what, but who Decimate is.
Greater than intelligence or cleverness was loyalty, love, and compassion. All these Decimate had for Zeke. If and when Zeke tried to take Decimate apart, Decimate would allow it.
Zeke loved Decimate, even if he wanted Vence back. Decimate loved Zeke, even though Zeke would destroy him.
Decimate remembered his birth, or more accurately, his creation. He remembered that before that night, he had been many lives, many creatures, many selves. After, there was only one self, with bits of memories and ghosts of names. Decimate, looking back on that night, can't say for sure if he would have chosen to kill his creator if he'd been capable of rational thought and restraint. Landier was a faint coloring in Vence's memories, and Vence was but a wisp of identity. Decimate did not, now, have any emotions about his creator.
It seemed, in retrospect, like an inevitable byproduct of the act of Decimate's creation. In fact, according to some of Zeke's more private notes and calculations that amount of chimerical magic in an enclosed space burned up the life energies of the surrounding mages. According to the accounts of the students who would deign to give accounts of that night, they'd had terrible dreams, and woken drained, sluggish, and terrified.
Getting the ranked Wizards to talk was impossible. Either they were aware at the time, and didn't want to be held culpable for not stopping Landier when they had the chance, or they were so ignorant that they couldn't see the signs under their noses and wouldn't believe them until they'd been hashed out and recorded by others first.
Had Landier knowingly endangered the ignorant and mystically inclined body of the Akademy to further his personal studies? Undoubtedly. What was left to question was whether his actions had at all been sanctioned, and if he knew how very close to death his peers would come.
A Black Wizard would have been able to answer those questions. The Akademy council declined the Black Circle's offer, choosing instead to mark the incident as an accident. Landier was a prodigy, they proclaimed, and one who had overstepped himself and tripped, paying the ultimate price, his memory should remain untarnished for future students to aspire to.
Neph looked into his ornate quicksilver mirror and smiled. Just hours ago Zeke had stood before this very mirror and looked into his own eyes, on the way to stand before the Circles in the Trials for his Color. Now the glass showed a great cavern of fire and lava rock. The very air glowed with heat, the images shimmering as if a mirage. The figures inside were barely recognizable as human, writhing eternally in tormented agony as they were.
The mirror was not just a pretty bauble to reflect reality, but a window to all realities, or at least, all those that people such as Wizards could travel to, whether they wanted to be there or not. No few Green Wizards would love to study the magnificent incantations woven into the quicksilver, if they were aware such an incredible object existed.
Neph himself wasn't entirely sure how the mirror worked, it was not a doorway, as the Green Circle kept theorizing and trying to create. The mirror did not allow travel, it did not even allow the viewer to hear what lay on the other side. The image was held at a fixed point, exactly ten feet away from a single victim. Neph had his hand in that little piece of spellwork, though he'd never imagined it would led to where it did. The mirror wasn't supposed to show him other worlds, it was supposed to show him specific people. It just happened, this time, that the person he viewed was in the fiery realm where demons dwelt. The realm called Hell in the common tongue.
"Oh Landier, did you see him? Did you realize what you were seeing? Did it fill you with rage and longing and misery? Are you capable of feeling those now in that pit? I hope so. I so sincerely hope so. When I think about you Landier, when I watch you, I hope that everything that goes on here is available there as knowledge you can not escape from." Neph murmured to the beautiful young man in the glass.
He had placed his special little spy charm on Landier early in their acquaintance. He regularly spied on those he considered worthy of the attention, who would not think to scan themselves for such charms. Ranked Wizards were generally a paranoid lot, especially those in the Circles, so trying to ensorcerele them was a poor idea for one's continued health. Students on the other hand were idiots. Many of the younger guard, those Neph had worked his way close to, were even aware of their little watcher, and thought it part of Neph's unique perversion.
Neph was perverted. He would readily admit that he loved to surprise and shock those who believed they knew him. He liked that he knew things about love and sex that others couldn't fathom. He loved having that upper hand, even in something so simple as a tumble between the sheets.
His charms didn't work on many though, especially those who were very good at scanning themselves for magical signatures, and those that were so busy using magic their spells interfered with the relatively simple little spider web of Second Sight.
Neoh had tried multiple times to spy upon Zeke and Decimate, but while Zeke had no sure penchant for self scans, Decimate was a creature comprised of magical energies and his very *will* seemed to change the shape of magic around him. Anything that could effect Zeke that Zeke didn't want didn't *happen*, even from a distance. Whether Zeke or Decimate were aware of the creature's effect was unclear, and Neph had no desire to test his boundaries. Decimate killed, that was simply what he was.
Decimate destroyed. Decimate killed. Decimate was the creature that others feared and respected and prayed never turned his fangs on them. Decimate was a monster.
That was the lie that filled the school, that Neph himself perpetuated because it suited him. If people avoided Zeke and Decimate they stayed safe and if they stayed safe then Neph stayed safe.
Zeke and Decimate were friends, but more than that, greater than that, they were investments Neph had made into the future of the Akademy. The future of Wizardry as the world itself knew it.
Zeke was the one who understood him best, but not for the reasons others assumed. While the steel collar around his throat did bind him, and the blood and bone in the lock that held it closed were Zeke's, there was no magical communication or telepathy. Zeke read his moods in his behavior, in the way he shifted or growled, his impatience with his meals or the unsubtle jostling of elbows with a velvety muzzle.
So to did Decimate understand his Wizard, though he also listened to the words that Zeke muttered to himself all the time. Decimate couldn't speak, but he had the blood of dragons in his veins and so the gift of understanding all tongues spoken under the great burning balls of fire known as the suns.
Decimate knew Zeke's scents, his tones, the myriad of gestures he would make when speaking to the walls and world. Decimate could smell the changes in his Wizard when he became exhausted or hear the edge of mania that signaled too long on a single problem. The twitches that signaled the cusp of brilliance were distinct from those that heralded a short collapse from hunger. To Decimate, whose world was comprised of a giant ball of dirt filled with people and animals that called to his instincts as dinner, Zeke was the only one worth paying attention to. Zeke was the only living creature with significance or importance.
Part of Decimate remembered times when this wasn't the case. Enough of Decimate remembered love, friendship, packs, laughter, and a desire to belong to others. Within Decimate still lay a small fragment of psyche that labeled itself Vence. Vence wasn't sure who, or what he was, within Decimate. Vence existed mostly as an idea, the ghost of memories, with just enough solidity to bear a name and a fixation upon Zeke.
Decimate is made of many small bits like Vence, but Vence alone had a name within Decimate. Despite his inability to produce words, and his bestial, monstrous appearance, Decimate was fairly intelligent. Enough to have taken and passed any test set before him if such tests could be prepared. He knew he was unique, and that he was un-natural. He knew that he was a chimera unlike any other, and that what he was trumped the idea of him also being a who in human thinking. He was smart enough, in fact, to read the complex mystical texts Zeke poured over day and night and he knew what his Wizard ultimately wanted to do with his arcane powers.
Zeke was going to destroy him. At the very least he would kill him in trying to destroy him.
The intelligent thing to do would be to kill Zeke, before he gained the knowledge and courage to go about his plans. The clever thing to do would be to lead Zeke astray, watch over him, and make sure no one else got it in their heads to do the same, or worse.
Decimate was both intelligent and clever, but neither trait kept him close to Zeke. Zeke was his Wizard. Zeke was the only living thing that Decimate cared for, and the only one that cared for him. Zeke knew not just what, but who Decimate is.
Greater than intelligence or cleverness was loyalty, love, and compassion. All these Decimate had for Zeke. If and when Zeke tried to take Decimate apart, Decimate would allow it.
Zeke loved Decimate, even if he wanted Vence back. Decimate loved Zeke, even though Zeke would destroy him.
Decimate remembered his birth, or more accurately, his creation. He remembered that before that night, he had been many lives, many creatures, many selves. After, there was only one self, with bits of memories and ghosts of names. Decimate, looking back on that night, can't say for sure if he would have chosen to kill his creator if he'd been capable of rational thought and restraint. Landier was a faint coloring in Vence's memories, and Vence was but a wisp of identity. Decimate did not, now, have any emotions about his creator.
It seemed, in retrospect, like an inevitable byproduct of the act of Decimate's creation. In fact, according to some of Zeke's more private notes and calculations that amount of chimerical magic in an enclosed space burned up the life energies of the surrounding mages. According to the accounts of the students who would deign to give accounts of that night, they'd had terrible dreams, and woken drained, sluggish, and terrified.
Getting the ranked Wizards to talk was impossible. Either they were aware at the time, and didn't want to be held culpable for not stopping Landier when they had the chance, or they were so ignorant that they couldn't see the signs under their noses and wouldn't believe them until they'd been hashed out and recorded by others first.
Had Landier knowingly endangered the ignorant and mystically inclined body of the Akademy to further his personal studies? Undoubtedly. What was left to question was whether his actions had at all been sanctioned, and if he knew how very close to death his peers would come.
A Black Wizard would have been able to answer those questions. The Akademy council declined the Black Circle's offer, choosing instead to mark the incident as an accident. Landier was a prodigy, they proclaimed, and one who had overstepped himself and tripped, paying the ultimate price, his memory should remain untarnished for future students to aspire to.
Neph looked into his ornate quicksilver mirror and smiled. Just hours ago Zeke had stood before this very mirror and looked into his own eyes, on the way to stand before the Circles in the Trials for his Color. Now the glass showed a great cavern of fire and lava rock. The very air glowed with heat, the images shimmering as if a mirage. The figures inside were barely recognizable as human, writhing eternally in tormented agony as they were.
The mirror was not just a pretty bauble to reflect reality, but a window to all realities, or at least, all those that people such as Wizards could travel to, whether they wanted to be there or not. No few Green Wizards would love to study the magnificent incantations woven into the quicksilver, if they were aware such an incredible object existed.
Neph himself wasn't entirely sure how the mirror worked, it was not a doorway, as the Green Circle kept theorizing and trying to create. The mirror did not allow travel, it did not even allow the viewer to hear what lay on the other side. The image was held at a fixed point, exactly ten feet away from a single victim. Neph had his hand in that little piece of spellwork, though he'd never imagined it would led to where it did. The mirror wasn't supposed to show him other worlds, it was supposed to show him specific people. It just happened, this time, that the person he viewed was in the fiery realm where demons dwelt. The realm called Hell in the common tongue.
"Oh Landier, did you see him? Did you realize what you were seeing? Did it fill you with rage and longing and misery? Are you capable of feeling those now in that pit? I hope so. I so sincerely hope so. When I think about you Landier, when I watch you, I hope that everything that goes on here is available there as knowledge you can not escape from." Neph murmured to the beautiful young man in the glass.
He had placed his special little spy charm on Landier early in their acquaintance. He regularly spied on those he considered worthy of the attention, who would not think to scan themselves for such charms. Ranked Wizards were generally a paranoid lot, especially those in the Circles, so trying to ensorcerele them was a poor idea for one's continued health. Students on the other hand were idiots. Many of the younger guard, those Neph had worked his way close to, were even aware of their little watcher, and thought it part of Neph's unique perversion.
Neph was perverted. He would readily admit that he loved to surprise and shock those who believed they knew him. He liked that he knew things about love and sex that others couldn't fathom. He loved having that upper hand, even in something so simple as a tumble between the sheets.
His charms didn't work on many though, especially those who were very good at scanning themselves for magical signatures, and those that were so busy using magic their spells interfered with the relatively simple little spider web of Second Sight.
Neoh had tried multiple times to spy upon Zeke and Decimate, but while Zeke had no sure penchant for self scans, Decimate was a creature comprised of magical energies and his very *will* seemed to change the shape of magic around him. Anything that could effect Zeke that Zeke didn't want didn't *happen*, even from a distance. Whether Zeke or Decimate were aware of the creature's effect was unclear, and Neph had no desire to test his boundaries. Decimate killed, that was simply what he was.
Decimate destroyed. Decimate killed. Decimate was the creature that others feared and respected and prayed never turned his fangs on them. Decimate was a monster.
That was the lie that filled the school, that Neph himself perpetuated because it suited him. If people avoided Zeke and Decimate they stayed safe and if they stayed safe then Neph stayed safe.
Zeke and Decimate were friends, but more than that, greater than that, they were investments Neph had made into the future of the Akademy. The future of Wizardry as the world itself knew it.