[Plot] [Open] Week 111: Cinder Mihi

[Abbey Rose]

And then it was Cassius’ turn. He gulped. The others were writhing around him, having partaken already. He could not put it off any longer. His hands, unsteady, pushed him back onto his feet. The mage was scared. He did not want this, but it was needed. His legs shook even more than his hands. Was it the cold? Was it his own exhaustion? Was it just the frustrations that the situation had forced upon him? He could not tell. Survive. That’s all we gotta do for now. Those shaky legs carried him forward to the goblet. He almost stumbled over his soon to be fellow prisoners, and came within a hair’s breadth of slipping on the pool of ichor and bile that lay next to Corvus. His footing stayed, however, saving him whatever small amounts of dignity that he had left. Cassius’ hands reached out to cup the goblet. Laicar hands brushed past demonic ones. He shuddered at the contact. Could he really go through with this? Was there no way out? His eyes looked up, meeting the blank stare of Ego. He could not say it out loud, but he knew that beast was smiling. His plea was unspoken, and yet answered in the negative. There was no going back. Drink.​ He did. It was a foul-tasting, evil sludge. At the first taste, he wanted to puke. The first sip barely made it past his lips. More.​ I can’t hold this down. His stomach churned. His throat was afire. Tears streamed down his face as he drank, and drank deep. More.​ The pain spread from his stomach to the rest of him. He shuddered and fell to his knees. Would this be his death? Was this simply a roundabout way of poisoning them? A devil’s sick and twisted game? More!​ The watery tears reddened. Try as he might, he could not stop. The contract demanded it. The demon demanded it. He drained every last drop of ichor that that goblet held. His body hated him for it. His spirit hated him for it. He hated him for it. More!​ And eventually, it was done. Pain wracked his body, and he fell, sobbing tears of blood as he curled into a ball. His body was trying to reject it, but a mortal shell, unaided, could not eject the magic of demons. It was all Cassius could do to stay conscious. So the mage, last to drink, lay with the others, weeping as his body was showered in anguish. 419/4253

 

[K3]

Like that, it was done. The newly-tempered thrall huddled and collapsed on the ruined backstreet, pride and passion undone before the towering form of Ego's unleashed form. The ruinous devil of desire remained in place for a time, observing its newest acquisitions with unblinking orbs of blank white. Then, slowly, its visage turned west, straightening and standing straight until it towered over the buildings surrounding it. Smoke peeled from its form in massive gouts, plumes of acrid vapor rising to join the fleeing fires that marred a fair few districts of the metropolis. Still, those two eyes stared unblinking at the horizon. Then, as though it had never had any substance to begin with, the devil dispersed, a blackened cloud that rose and faded into the red-painted night. Standing where its massive shroud had once occupied the street, Ego's contained form stood with an impassive expression. Stepping towards the downed laicar, he observed their groaning and whimpering for a moment. The Black Portal would be their next great trial, under the supervision of their new owner. What machinations the devil had planned for them beyond the ruin of that ebon maw, only he could know. Two of Ego's four arms folded behind him, clasped like an expectant businessman. Bending low, the devil gently scooped up the goblet and cradled it in one hand. Most strangely, by the time he peered into that bubbling crimson liquid, tainted by oily black, it was already full again – as though spiting the self-destructive efforts of Cassius – and the devil tilted it back fully to drink deeply of its contents. Then, ever so slowly, a grin stretched its way across his face like barbed wire. Final [ 280 / 7300 ]​