Post by iceix on Jul 16, 2015 15:00:58 GMT -8
Bryce stood at the bank of the Duwamish in a loose robe. The sky was dark and his stomach rumbled. It had been four days since he started his fast; four days since he last took a life. He dropped his robe and strode naked into the cold, dark water.
The dead girl stared daggers at him before skipping to play at the water’s edge.
The cold water touched his skin and he shivered. He pressed on, stopping when the water level met his shoulders. The water was cold and dirty, but an ordeal gave magick strength and there was no turning back from the Wheel. Dharma dictated it. Besides, even when hard and overwhelming, magick had never truly wounded him.
The tattoo that formed on Byrce’s wrist when emerging from Quiet throbbed and the little girl laughed at him knowingly.
Bryce dunked his head other the water, surfaced, and shook the water from his eyes. He began to scrub, quietly singing the sacred songs while he followed the sacred rite. The dirty water wasn’t much use at cleaning, but that wasn’t the point. The guilt caused by those mages’ death left him; he remembered the spoke of Tyaga:
“Since action done for pleasure and one’s own gain carries with it always the danger of corruption we shall forgo such action. Our duty shall be done in the name of the cosmos and offered in sacrifice to the cosmos. We shall eschew action that is created purely by desires for such action would threaten our souls and our duties.”
Bryce felt himself free of guilt of actions. He carried the weight of each death with him; the Good Death helped the Wheel turn but there was always pain caused by his actions, he could not blind himself to it, especially as the Nephandi’s deaths mocked the cycle: alive, dead, or reborn as a widderslante they sacrificed themselves in an attempt to corrupt what is pure with no hope of redemption; the stagnation of the age would not be easily remedied. He sighed.
The rite concluded and Bryce returned to the riverbank. He quickly grabbed donned the robe and dried himself with a towel left nearby. He walked to car that was strategically parked nearby. He dressed. The dead girl looked up at him. Smiling, he said, “Well, the rite’s ended. Let’s go to Beth’s and figure out what we do next.” He got into the car and drove away.
The dead girl stared daggers at him before skipping to play at the water’s edge.
The cold water touched his skin and he shivered. He pressed on, stopping when the water level met his shoulders. The water was cold and dirty, but an ordeal gave magick strength and there was no turning back from the Wheel. Dharma dictated it. Besides, even when hard and overwhelming, magick had never truly wounded him.
The tattoo that formed on Byrce’s wrist when emerging from Quiet throbbed and the little girl laughed at him knowingly.
Bryce dunked his head other the water, surfaced, and shook the water from his eyes. He began to scrub, quietly singing the sacred songs while he followed the sacred rite. The dirty water wasn’t much use at cleaning, but that wasn’t the point. The guilt caused by those mages’ death left him; he remembered the spoke of Tyaga:
“Since action done for pleasure and one’s own gain carries with it always the danger of corruption we shall forgo such action. Our duty shall be done in the name of the cosmos and offered in sacrifice to the cosmos. We shall eschew action that is created purely by desires for such action would threaten our souls and our duties.”
Bryce felt himself free of guilt of actions. He carried the weight of each death with him; the Good Death helped the Wheel turn but there was always pain caused by his actions, he could not blind himself to it, especially as the Nephandi’s deaths mocked the cycle: alive, dead, or reborn as a widderslante they sacrificed themselves in an attempt to corrupt what is pure with no hope of redemption; the stagnation of the age would not be easily remedied. He sighed.
The rite concluded and Bryce returned to the riverbank. He quickly grabbed donned the robe and dried himself with a towel left nearby. He walked to car that was strategically parked nearby. He dressed. The dead girl looked up at him. Smiling, he said, “Well, the rite’s ended. Let’s go to Beth’s and figure out what we do next.” He got into the car and drove away.
