08-19-2013, 09:42 AM
Jaxen's anger was palpable, Tony had hit a sore point. Michael sympathised with him.
Until he mentioned Katalina. Oh, he hadn't mentioned her by name, and the look the man shot him told him he would reveal everything, but Michael's rage flared and turned to ice as he filled himself with the power to bursting.
The warning was a foolish move. He would not be able to talk when he was dead. Michael meant what he said.
He struggled to control the raging fury held by a thin veneer of ice-cold control. He knew Jaxen was simply angry and afraid. They had pushed him too far, but a part of him screamed at him to rip the traitor apart.
Traitor
The word haunted him and set his heart on fire.
Michael didn't bother moving as he wove Fire and Spirit. Jaxen - a part of him recognized the irony of the situation - held the power as well, but it was a mere trickle compared to Michael's raging torrent of death.
The weave touched Jaxen's brain and he fell to the floor, clutching his head, back arched in reflexive convulsion. He would be in pain, he would feel fire burning through his very veins, his head would feel like it was about to burst like an overripe melon.
Traitor
The thought screamed at him an he amplified the weave, the pain tripling. Michael was in a daze, he loathed what he did to the poor man, but at the same time he revelled in his pain. He deserved it, he would pay!
Tony was shouting something, holding the power, but he could do nothing. Michael was too strong. Nobody could keep him from his vengeance.
He saw the complex weave form before his eyes and explode like a firecracker, blinding him. Jaxen fought with his meagre strength and lashed out while he was blinded - intentionally or not, he did not know - and the weave trembled and disappeared, stinging him like a snake-bite.
Tony stood in front of him now, holding his shoulders in a vice-grip. "Control yourself,"
he said in a voice like steel. "I will not allow you to do this."
Suddenly, the rage bled out of him and he slumped in the chair, his hands shaking with adrenaline. He flung the power away from him like it was a deadly poison.
What the hell was that...
He stared at his hands, numb. It was as if he were possessed, his body taken by madness. Was this what happened to people like him? Did the power drive him insane?
Is this what you are truly like...?
When he looked up, his gaze was impassive, his emotions hidden behind a cage of impenetrable will. He turned to Tony who looked at him with concern. "Sorry."
Until he mentioned Katalina. Oh, he hadn't mentioned her by name, and the look the man shot him told him he would reveal everything, but Michael's rage flared and turned to ice as he filled himself with the power to bursting.
The warning was a foolish move. He would not be able to talk when he was dead. Michael meant what he said.
He struggled to control the raging fury held by a thin veneer of ice-cold control. He knew Jaxen was simply angry and afraid. They had pushed him too far, but a part of him screamed at him to rip the traitor apart.
Traitor
The word haunted him and set his heart on fire.
Michael didn't bother moving as he wove Fire and Spirit. Jaxen - a part of him recognized the irony of the situation - held the power as well, but it was a mere trickle compared to Michael's raging torrent of death.
The weave touched Jaxen's brain and he fell to the floor, clutching his head, back arched in reflexive convulsion. He would be in pain, he would feel fire burning through his very veins, his head would feel like it was about to burst like an overripe melon.
Traitor
The thought screamed at him an he amplified the weave, the pain tripling. Michael was in a daze, he loathed what he did to the poor man, but at the same time he revelled in his pain. He deserved it, he would pay!
Tony was shouting something, holding the power, but he could do nothing. Michael was too strong. Nobody could keep him from his vengeance.
He saw the complex weave form before his eyes and explode like a firecracker, blinding him. Jaxen fought with his meagre strength and lashed out while he was blinded - intentionally or not, he did not know - and the weave trembled and disappeared, stinging him like a snake-bite.
Tony stood in front of him now, holding his shoulders in a vice-grip. "Control yourself,"
he said in a voice like steel. "I will not allow you to do this."
Suddenly, the rage bled out of him and he slumped in the chair, his hands shaking with adrenaline. He flung the power away from him like it was a deadly poison.
What the hell was that...
He stared at his hands, numb. It was as if he were possessed, his body taken by madness. Was this what happened to people like him? Did the power drive him insane?
Is this what you are truly like...?
When he looked up, his gaze was impassive, his emotions hidden behind a cage of impenetrable will. He turned to Tony who looked at him with concern. "Sorry."
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."