06-18-2015, 08:25 PM
His expression marbled. Michael? This child? Lectured him about the Atharim. Which of the two of them was Atharim? Which of the two branded themselves with their mark only to wish monstrous claws had gouged it more fully from their flesh? The buried anger violently resurrected itself, and Nik's hands curled themselves into white-knuckled fists. He turned away, unable to look upon the youthful face defying him a moment longer.
He was better than this. Michael was not the real problem. The damned Atharim were. Michael was the harbinger of issues Nikolai would rather ignore. Indeed, he would rather the warring between their two armies left the other to their respective peace.
Wishing was as foolish ignoring a festering wound. He growled a low rumble and turned back to face Michael. "Alright."
His teeth ground out the admission. "I agree with you. But be very careful the next time you seek to lecture me on the Atharim."
He lifted the arm he once showed Michael. Nothing like their dogmatic cult could rouse such base anger from him. It displaced the firm grip of control Nikolai kept upon his emotions. He loathed such moments.
"It is inevitable the world will come to know the truth of our kind."
His gaze grew distant. He wanted the world in his custody before that point was reached, but time was running short, and the machinations of global unification required patience. He should use the chaos to come to draw he fearful to himself, a leader with answers. He could be a savior for millions on the brink, but such a summons could breed a rival for dominance of power. How many Michaels and Valdirs waited to be discovered?
He didn't care about prophecy, even one he knew about, even if he claimed the title out of spite. Something else that was beneath him, yet it gave him a daily sense of satisfaction, waking to sight of epithets cresting his symbol. He earned those titles, amulet, archon, apollyon, and wielded his own destiny. It was ludicrous to put faith in fate.
He could not ignore the Atharim much longer, but neither did he have to deal with them himself, although, he would derive a great sense of satisfaction to see their current Regus cowed at his feet.
Michael's claim to be the best was soon to be tested.
"Formulate a plan for these dissidents and present it to me tonight. Use Aria if you wish, but my deal with her remains. And don't delude yourself into believing in your own honor by thinking you're sparing her of manipulation. Everyone you meet has a purpose in your life, or you discard them. It's who you are."
Who they were.
"And Michael. It is my mercy allowing her to live. For that I demand her undying loyalty forever."
He was better than this. Michael was not the real problem. The damned Atharim were. Michael was the harbinger of issues Nikolai would rather ignore. Indeed, he would rather the warring between their two armies left the other to their respective peace.
Wishing was as foolish ignoring a festering wound. He growled a low rumble and turned back to face Michael. "Alright."
His teeth ground out the admission. "I agree with you. But be very careful the next time you seek to lecture me on the Atharim."
He lifted the arm he once showed Michael. Nothing like their dogmatic cult could rouse such base anger from him. It displaced the firm grip of control Nikolai kept upon his emotions. He loathed such moments.
"It is inevitable the world will come to know the truth of our kind."
His gaze grew distant. He wanted the world in his custody before that point was reached, but time was running short, and the machinations of global unification required patience. He should use the chaos to come to draw he fearful to himself, a leader with answers. He could be a savior for millions on the brink, but such a summons could breed a rival for dominance of power. How many Michaels and Valdirs waited to be discovered?
He didn't care about prophecy, even one he knew about, even if he claimed the title out of spite. Something else that was beneath him, yet it gave him a daily sense of satisfaction, waking to sight of epithets cresting his symbol. He earned those titles, amulet, archon, apollyon, and wielded his own destiny. It was ludicrous to put faith in fate.
He could not ignore the Atharim much longer, but neither did he have to deal with them himself, although, he would derive a great sense of satisfaction to see their current Regus cowed at his feet.
Michael's claim to be the best was soon to be tested.
"Formulate a plan for these dissidents and present it to me tonight. Use Aria if you wish, but my deal with her remains. And don't delude yourself into believing in your own honor by thinking you're sparing her of manipulation. Everyone you meet has a purpose in your life, or you discard them. It's who you are."
Who they were.
"And Michael. It is my mercy allowing her to live. For that I demand her undying loyalty forever."