03-22-2016, 05:00 PM
"A purpose, or rather, a chance at redemption..." The Angel's words were quiet and softly spoken, yet resonated loud enough for the Commander to hear. Malthael inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, his mind listening to the souls of this world. They chanted for justice and revenge for their wrongful deaths, yet the most overwhelming emotion he picked up was fear. Fear for their children, their family, their friends; the fear that they would be subjected to the same torturous existence.
"They don't deserve this kind of life."
"Help them, please."
"You owe it to us."
Malthael basked in the pleas of the dead, and for once let logic fade to the background, let the emotions guide his actions. His breath came in short gasps, the whispers of souls were a strange thing, but it was their regrets that really affected him. He swore their cries would never be unheard.
"I would be a fool not to accept this commission, My Lady." Malthael lowed his hood and transfixed his teal eyes on her's, willing her to give him her full attention. He tried to discern her feelings from her body language, allowing himself to look past the image on the outside, and allowing his mind to go to work. Her face was stoic and emotionless, a mask, crafted out of years of discipline. The rest of her body was of similar disposition, and Malthael couldn't get anything from her. Her hard eyes were driving themselves into his, her gaze unrelenting and cold, yet not entirely hostile. She believed that she would be able to make a difference, and Malthael believed in that kind of drive.
He clenched his armored hand, the dark metal shrieking as it ground itself. It was a sharp and ominous noise, and Malthael could feel his mood darken as the souls began influence the Aspect further.
"Where do I start?"
"They don't deserve this kind of life."
"Help them, please."
"You owe it to us."
Malthael basked in the pleas of the dead, and for once let logic fade to the background, let the emotions guide his actions. His breath came in short gasps, the whispers of souls were a strange thing, but it was their regrets that really affected him. He swore their cries would never be unheard.
"I would be a fool not to accept this commission, My Lady." Malthael lowed his hood and transfixed his teal eyes on her's, willing her to give him her full attention. He tried to discern her feelings from her body language, allowing himself to look past the image on the outside, and allowing his mind to go to work. Her face was stoic and emotionless, a mask, crafted out of years of discipline. The rest of her body was of similar disposition, and Malthael couldn't get anything from her. Her hard eyes were driving themselves into his, her gaze unrelenting and cold, yet not entirely hostile. She believed that she would be able to make a difference, and Malthael believed in that kind of drive.
He clenched his armored hand, the dark metal shrieking as it ground itself. It was a sharp and ominous noise, and Malthael could feel his mood darken as the souls began influence the Aspect further.
"Where do I start?"
"...If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.”
-Victor Hugo Les Miserables
-Victor Hugo Les Miserables