07-08-2017, 03:22 PM
[spoiler] A verse was that of a room in this Omni mansion, a room at Syntech headquarters, within the room of plenty within his mind. That was were Gildarts slept. That was where Tearen trespassed purposefully. Reality fell away, compiled by the perception of pure sense and mind over time.
Plunging, falling, it was all the same when surrounded by deserted and spider webbing veins, intricacies, snippets of life, trails of death. All leading to the core, where gravity continued to pull the God-mind.
The forgotten was a large section of Gildarts’ mind. The prime had to mediate more than a monk just to be sure his magic wouldn’t explode in any of his waking days. When looking at a woman for her beauty, he could allot the time to seek the beauty in her soul, forced to settle for physical, Gildarts found himself only admiring skin deep features. Never what dwelled truly behind it. Beautiful women were for men who lacked imagination and this Fairy Tail mage could never allow that section within him to thrive. And instead, his imagination was restrained, repressed, and eternally suffocating but never fully pardoned to die. Always there. Always drowning. Always screaming. Never soundless. Never dead.
True tragedy that could never sing its mournful dirge.
…
From the black, perpetual ceiling, three chairs fell together, surrounding an empty table made of cherry-red wood. The table looked like it could’ve been stolen out of a post-modern coffee shop, sans the music, sans the bustle, sans the scent of French Roast. Falling next in alignment to their chairs were three empty mugs, plain, white, with some intricate etchings around the rims of the glass, still white, barely noticeable unless by touch. These etchings each held a different name. Gildarts’ name was carved in Japanese characters, twirling together with a nearly invisible cracking design. Gildarts had yet to arrive and meanwhile, the Malefactor blinked as she appraised her new surroundings, the meeting arranged by the God-mind and the setting by Gil’s own simple subconscious.
The Malefactor was a woman of remarkable beauty, bold red lipstick was painted smear-free upon her expressionless lips. Her hair lay in waves of ginger sprawling past her shoulders, a deeper and richer tone than Gil’s own. Her eyes were a different color depending on what angle they were caught, generally they flashed with pale blue or forest green. Her attire was a plain black dress that was tightly stitched around her body and only allowed for a modest inch of cleavage around her breasts. Far from a distraction, but more of a cut to amplify her subtle, promiscuous edge of style. The succubus was not quite so… Tempting now.
For all her beauty, for her long pale legs adorned with modish heels, for her nails painted glossy crimson scarlet to charm and allure any lusting sinner, the right side of her head, just behind the ebbing frame of her face was the completely carved out. Missing half of her skull.
One half looked natural, normal, flawless. The other half was a mishmash of perturbing gore. First a layer of dried blood stained the spiky broken plate of skull, layers of membrane accented with thin chicken wire stretches of tangled pink flesh. In place where the brain should have been bulging out, was a putrid organ of pulsing midnight green. It had a glossy sheen and a few veins cradling around the three dimensional sphere. A few wisps of copper hair fell over the repulsive view but did nothing but amplify the emboldened contrast of green and fleshy red.
She was part monster and all woman. There was no shame written on the flawless lines of her face, in fact, the Malefactor’s cheekbones were raised in a welcoming expression a hostess might wear when welcoming an important guest to an affair. Her long lashes batted a few times as she grabbed her mug, when she did, the pristine white was painted in viney lines of black, making her name written in her original language indistinguishable within the streaks of pitch black paint.
She pulled the cup up to her lips and her beverage of choice filled it. Red wine. The ruby gleam closely matched her lips, but didn’t stain the lipstick away. “So. You’re my new guest. Care for a drink? The glass fills itself, you know.”
I’m not here to drink. Nealaphh’s suited form finally fell into the seat across from the woman who had only a portion of her head remaining. The symbolism on multiple levels was a little amusing, but now was no time for play. The God-mind declined, though, he was curious about what design would become of the glass that seemed to reveal much more than one’s favorite beverage.
“Hmph. Suit yourself. Our third guest is a little late, but that shouldn’t surprise you,” Miss Malefactor said with ample dissatisfaction as she crossed her legs.
Their third guest.
Nothing else fell from the ceiling for a while, the waiting was perpetual, yet also timeless for this room had no light of sun, nor a clock to tick into the void of nothingness.
Plopping out of one reality and as though falling into another, Gildarts slammed into the ground beside his empty chair back-first. Pain crackled through his being and shook the black room with a thunderous rumble. The tangible black ground didn’t break on the collision, a good sign, Tearen noted, for the Prime was likely not coming apart at the seams… Yet. The God-mind couldn’t be too hopeful.
The mage stood up, his cloak was gone from his shoulders as it had been for the last week, however the blood and layers of gore and disgusting smulch he’d accumulated were gone from his skin. Emblazoned on his pectoral was the dark tattooed Fairy Tail insignia, appearing like a fire with two tails.
“Glad you could finally make it,” the woman spoke with an eager smile, her eyes staying long on the powerful man who’d stood up, let his eyes wander around the nothingness for a moment, before they fell back on Tearen, who was donning a dashing suit… But also, behind his surface, a veil of shadow seemed to flicker, sourced within his radiant viridian eyes.
Tearen showed no glimmer of joy when Gildarts had arrived, no expression of kinship nor rivalry. His purpose was not to comfort, but to solve. To trash with the niceties. She was outnumbered now. This was they only place where they could take her down. However, so much lay in limbo, undefined, striking now would be completely premature. Calculation. Precise measurement. That was what this moment’s purpose served. All for the next moment’s survival.
“Please, take a seat.” She invited him, looking at the glossy, elegant chair. He sensed nothing magical about it. No traps. Yet there was some hesitation when the prime sat down, as though he thought it would break at his touch. He did as he was told and set his arms on the table, he seemed at ease enough. Both arms were organic, as he was born and as was natural to him. Gildarts did not seem to notice this natural startling difference, though he could feel the table’s flat sheen with the skin of both of his arms.
Mal blinked again, holding her wicked black cup in her hand, “Beverage? Just pick up the glass and your favorite will appear.”
Gildarts looked over to Tearen as though waiting, who remained saying nothing, observing, collecting, memorizing the simple intricacies of dinner with Gildarts’ inner devil. Feeling pressured into it, the unsuspecting mage picked up his to-be drink by its handle. Light and magic began to crackle within the ceramic in netted marks around the Japanese characters before it exploded in his hand, shattering it to bits before leaving only a broken chunk of the scooped handle dangling in his hand.
Tearen’s eyes had glided from the erupting mug and back to the human personification of the Malefactor. Danger lined the room, the moment, and within every breath they didn’t need to take. She seemed to smile. Impressed at Tearen's skillful maneuver and the underlying point of his protest. Get to the point. she sensed, but to her, time was nothing, so what was the hurry? His mug-splosion showed her that could change the room, if he dared. Theory confirmed. Knowledge absorbed. To be executed at a later time.
As if manning up to his challenge, following the break of polished ceramic clattering to bits upon the table, the Malefactor took her turn. Meddling in the middle-aged mage’s mind.
Screams surrounded them now from sourceless echoes. The familiar ones from the massacre at Camelot first, then many layers that followed, all stolen from a different place in Gildarts’ timeline. All stolen from moments of horror he’d lived in his life. Horror he’d felt for himself and for the tragedies he had caused.
The woman flashed her eyes at Tearen, and allowed him to read, We both know we can do better than this, but… You lack one thing. You don’t know how much of this will break him, and I do. Can you extract me, without me completely shattering his mind, God? She toyed seductively with her lips, waiting.
Gildarts felt like the third wheel. The Malefactor’s attention was always, first and foremost assigned to her host, however, trespassers had to be dealt with accordingly. This was her turf. Gildarts was her property. She could practically wrap a leash around his throat then and there and humble the mage to his knees in a bow of submission.
You have one warning. Release him now. Or face the consequences, pest. Nealaphh’s mind-voice boomed so all three could hear.
“Don’t you see? I’m not the one keeping him here. Ever since this began, he chose to sit at my beckon. He chose to take a drink when commanded. Everyone wants a little control in their lives. Everyone wants an order to follow. Especially the weak. He’s my pet and will remain that way. You expect a loyal dog to run away from its home? No, see, I’ve beaten him into complete submission. He belongs here, believes abuse is the only way for he has known it for too long. Every word woven, every thought I've challenged. You let me nest in here for too long, you should have extracted me when you had the chance, Wover. But you had different priorities then, didn't you? He’s been tainted, corrupted, corroded, stained. He’s mine. I won’t release him so easily. Even if you do manage to extract me, he’ll come back when he is in need of power. I’m in a vault now, yet he allows me to linger within the edges of his feeble mind because he looks at me to compensate for the strength he doesn’t have. He’ll never be free. And he knows it. So he chooses this life. A life of enslavement because it is all he’s ever known. Bound by fear. He wants this. A life under my domain.” She spoke calmly.
Tearen remained quiet, her words were rich and yet not entirely baseless. The Malefactor turned her head on a swivel, revealing her grotesque ‘brain’ to the mage. He did not jump back in disgust. He had seen this form before. How many times had they shared a conversation in this room? How many times had he partaken in the fruits of her temptation? None? Or every time he was invite? It wasn’t a bad business deal, except for the fact that Gildarts never had to give up his rights to some creature who offered him only a placebo in return.
“Isn’t that right, Gildarts?” her expression bore into his soul.
Don’t answer that. Tearen commanded, seizing her bait, another web woven by the spider. She has offered you nothing but the control you already harbor within yourself. Her promise is false.
“Oh? How can you be certain?” she sneered from behind her wicked mug.
Tearen needn’t an explanation. Control is a choice. You chose her to control you. But you had the power of that choice all along. That's how you got here. It is also how you can leave. He hoped simplifying it for the mage made the truth evident in one concise slice.
Gildarts remained voiceless. His amber eyes appeared dampened as though he were bound by contract or governing law. Tearen stood up, she’d taken his voice from the beginning. This conversation was naught. He should have seen this. “You’ve stolen his voice, free him at once!” he spoke with his lips in a rasp, a tinge of emotion was evident: Frustration.
The Malefactor winked, “Make me.”
The room rumbled again. Tearen felt a flicker of his shadow surpass his ebony skin, she was calling him out. Gildarts caught a glimpse of Nealaphh’s familiar three eyed form and recognition sparked in his eyes. His lips remained mute. The God-mind thrust the choice to Gildarts lap one final time. Choose. He glared, next came the threat, Or I will.
It was extremely hard to say if Gildarts had any idea what was going on at this point. If she had so easily muted his lips, nothing was stopping the Malefactor from muting his ears. Meaning he could only respond to gestures, or perhaps only hear her commands. Only what she willed the tormented mage to do.
Tch. Tearen should’ve seen tactic this sooner. Gildarts had likely already signed his soul with his own blood on the dotted line. It was worth one more shot, Tearen gave Gildarts the opportunity to read his lips as the scratchy word came out, “Choose.”
Gildarts stood. He had heard that. Or read his lips. The God-mind sighed in relief, this might save him from doing much more… Damaging actions. The Malefactor remained perfectly content in her chair, which she continued to treat as her iron throne. Her expression commanded they both bow as did her now uncrossed legs. However, they’d been united by the revolutionary idea that free will could change not only this moment, but the rest of the Fairy Tail wizard's life.
“Oh Gilly, don’t you succumb to his evil tricks, remember, you remember that he’s the bad guy, don’t you?” She offered a crimson pout, her lips wobbled. "You've drawn his black blood on more than one occasion."
“It is time this fight cease. It has been waged within me far too long,” Gildarts spoke, his voice noble, proud.
Tearen approved.
“What’ll you boys do to me? Hm? I committed no crime of breaking and entering, I was let in here, knocked and the door was open,” she spoke of the vague law known to some vampiric lore.
We will expel you. Not I alone. Not he alone. But together. Tearen announced confidently, certain the Prime could hear him now.
Having a friend by Gildarts’ side offered comfort. Nealaphh, a friend. They had a common enemy, and well, you know the saying.
“Get out, or I will destroy you,” Gildarts threatened, malice in his voice was tangible, pulsing with newly awakened life drenched in anger.
“Oh, Gildarts, don’t you know if you destroy me, you destroy yourself?” the Malefactor flirted with the last truth up her sleeve. “But then again, you always were a martyr, funny though, self-preservation is quite… A bitch.”
“I’ll die a free man,” he was convinced.
“Even Omni can’t save you from that fate,” she reposted.
“So be it.”
She challenged, “What? You’re going to blast me off into oblivion now? I’ll break this entire mind palace apart, you’ll be nothing but a drooling vegetable, unable to be healed. Respawning every time a hollow mess of nothing, or maybe a dripping drooling time-bomb. That’s why Goddy over there hasn’t made any moves on me. He knows one wrong one in this place and it’ll allll falll downn..”
“No, there are better ways to fight someone like you than with violence,” Gildarts growled.
“Ridiculous, that is the only way to fight me. I won’t surrender otherwise.” Mal provoked him, fear sparkled in her eyes. Even the oaf of a mage was onto her weakness.
“You aren’t needed anymore,” Gildarts solidified his choice. “I am in control. And if I tumble out of that control, the man beside me will strike me down with everything he has. He won’t just kill me, he will break me into oblivion. It may be necessary. But he would do it for me, for the greater good, because that would be my choice. He would respect it. Something you never would be willing to do, for your greed for power defines you, and makes you so very readable.”
And pathetic.
“Nealaphh, er, Tearen. I am aware I’m still slumbering in a room full of Primes. See to it I kill none of them with this choice.” Gildarts spoke and then offered his hand out in a respectful shake. Tearen wasn’t sure he had faith in the mage to do this alone. However, it was now he who had no choice. Gildarts banished Wover from his mind.
The God-mind woke up, blinking in his body. Thrilling doubt prepared the God-mind to contain the blast somehow. The surge of power that could destroy this room, or split Karl’s entire pocket verse in half. Worry wove into his expression, for he could no longer observe. But, faith was restored. For if Gildarts could press the God-mind out of his thoughts, he could certainly rid himself of that disgusting villain with half a head.
The Malefactor and Gildarts were in the room alone. It was time to end this the way it had started. This time it was not Gildarts, but the Malefactor who would be sacrificed.
[/spoiler]
Plunging, falling, it was all the same when surrounded by deserted and spider webbing veins, intricacies, snippets of life, trails of death. All leading to the core, where gravity continued to pull the God-mind.
The forgotten was a large section of Gildarts’ mind. The prime had to mediate more than a monk just to be sure his magic wouldn’t explode in any of his waking days. When looking at a woman for her beauty, he could allot the time to seek the beauty in her soul, forced to settle for physical, Gildarts found himself only admiring skin deep features. Never what dwelled truly behind it. Beautiful women were for men who lacked imagination and this Fairy Tail mage could never allow that section within him to thrive. And instead, his imagination was restrained, repressed, and eternally suffocating but never fully pardoned to die. Always there. Always drowning. Always screaming. Never soundless. Never dead.
True tragedy that could never sing its mournful dirge.
…
From the black, perpetual ceiling, three chairs fell together, surrounding an empty table made of cherry-red wood. The table looked like it could’ve been stolen out of a post-modern coffee shop, sans the music, sans the bustle, sans the scent of French Roast. Falling next in alignment to their chairs were three empty mugs, plain, white, with some intricate etchings around the rims of the glass, still white, barely noticeable unless by touch. These etchings each held a different name. Gildarts’ name was carved in Japanese characters, twirling together with a nearly invisible cracking design. Gildarts had yet to arrive and meanwhile, the Malefactor blinked as she appraised her new surroundings, the meeting arranged by the God-mind and the setting by Gil’s own simple subconscious.
The Malefactor was a woman of remarkable beauty, bold red lipstick was painted smear-free upon her expressionless lips. Her hair lay in waves of ginger sprawling past her shoulders, a deeper and richer tone than Gil’s own. Her eyes were a different color depending on what angle they were caught, generally they flashed with pale blue or forest green. Her attire was a plain black dress that was tightly stitched around her body and only allowed for a modest inch of cleavage around her breasts. Far from a distraction, but more of a cut to amplify her subtle, promiscuous edge of style. The succubus was not quite so… Tempting now.
For all her beauty, for her long pale legs adorned with modish heels, for her nails painted glossy crimson scarlet to charm and allure any lusting sinner, the right side of her head, just behind the ebbing frame of her face was the completely carved out. Missing half of her skull.
One half looked natural, normal, flawless. The other half was a mishmash of perturbing gore. First a layer of dried blood stained the spiky broken plate of skull, layers of membrane accented with thin chicken wire stretches of tangled pink flesh. In place where the brain should have been bulging out, was a putrid organ of pulsing midnight green. It had a glossy sheen and a few veins cradling around the three dimensional sphere. A few wisps of copper hair fell over the repulsive view but did nothing but amplify the emboldened contrast of green and fleshy red.
She was part monster and all woman. There was no shame written on the flawless lines of her face, in fact, the Malefactor’s cheekbones were raised in a welcoming expression a hostess might wear when welcoming an important guest to an affair. Her long lashes batted a few times as she grabbed her mug, when she did, the pristine white was painted in viney lines of black, making her name written in her original language indistinguishable within the streaks of pitch black paint.
She pulled the cup up to her lips and her beverage of choice filled it. Red wine. The ruby gleam closely matched her lips, but didn’t stain the lipstick away. “So. You’re my new guest. Care for a drink? The glass fills itself, you know.”
I’m not here to drink. Nealaphh’s suited form finally fell into the seat across from the woman who had only a portion of her head remaining. The symbolism on multiple levels was a little amusing, but now was no time for play. The God-mind declined, though, he was curious about what design would become of the glass that seemed to reveal much more than one’s favorite beverage.
“Hmph. Suit yourself. Our third guest is a little late, but that shouldn’t surprise you,” Miss Malefactor said with ample dissatisfaction as she crossed her legs.
Their third guest.
Nothing else fell from the ceiling for a while, the waiting was perpetual, yet also timeless for this room had no light of sun, nor a clock to tick into the void of nothingness.
Plopping out of one reality and as though falling into another, Gildarts slammed into the ground beside his empty chair back-first. Pain crackled through his being and shook the black room with a thunderous rumble. The tangible black ground didn’t break on the collision, a good sign, Tearen noted, for the Prime was likely not coming apart at the seams… Yet. The God-mind couldn’t be too hopeful.
The mage stood up, his cloak was gone from his shoulders as it had been for the last week, however the blood and layers of gore and disgusting smulch he’d accumulated were gone from his skin. Emblazoned on his pectoral was the dark tattooed Fairy Tail insignia, appearing like a fire with two tails.
“Glad you could finally make it,” the woman spoke with an eager smile, her eyes staying long on the powerful man who’d stood up, let his eyes wander around the nothingness for a moment, before they fell back on Tearen, who was donning a dashing suit… But also, behind his surface, a veil of shadow seemed to flicker, sourced within his radiant viridian eyes.
Tearen showed no glimmer of joy when Gildarts had arrived, no expression of kinship nor rivalry. His purpose was not to comfort, but to solve. To trash with the niceties. She was outnumbered now. This was they only place where they could take her down. However, so much lay in limbo, undefined, striking now would be completely premature. Calculation. Precise measurement. That was what this moment’s purpose served. All for the next moment’s survival.
“Please, take a seat.” She invited him, looking at the glossy, elegant chair. He sensed nothing magical about it. No traps. Yet there was some hesitation when the prime sat down, as though he thought it would break at his touch. He did as he was told and set his arms on the table, he seemed at ease enough. Both arms were organic, as he was born and as was natural to him. Gildarts did not seem to notice this natural startling difference, though he could feel the table’s flat sheen with the skin of both of his arms.
Mal blinked again, holding her wicked black cup in her hand, “Beverage? Just pick up the glass and your favorite will appear.”
Gildarts looked over to Tearen as though waiting, who remained saying nothing, observing, collecting, memorizing the simple intricacies of dinner with Gildarts’ inner devil. Feeling pressured into it, the unsuspecting mage picked up his to-be drink by its handle. Light and magic began to crackle within the ceramic in netted marks around the Japanese characters before it exploded in his hand, shattering it to bits before leaving only a broken chunk of the scooped handle dangling in his hand.
Tearen’s eyes had glided from the erupting mug and back to the human personification of the Malefactor. Danger lined the room, the moment, and within every breath they didn’t need to take. She seemed to smile. Impressed at Tearen's skillful maneuver and the underlying point of his protest. Get to the point. she sensed, but to her, time was nothing, so what was the hurry? His mug-splosion showed her that could change the room, if he dared. Theory confirmed. Knowledge absorbed. To be executed at a later time.
As if manning up to his challenge, following the break of polished ceramic clattering to bits upon the table, the Malefactor took her turn. Meddling in the middle-aged mage’s mind.
Screams surrounded them now from sourceless echoes. The familiar ones from the massacre at Camelot first, then many layers that followed, all stolen from a different place in Gildarts’ timeline. All stolen from moments of horror he’d lived in his life. Horror he’d felt for himself and for the tragedies he had caused.
The woman flashed her eyes at Tearen, and allowed him to read, We both know we can do better than this, but… You lack one thing. You don’t know how much of this will break him, and I do. Can you extract me, without me completely shattering his mind, God? She toyed seductively with her lips, waiting.
Gildarts felt like the third wheel. The Malefactor’s attention was always, first and foremost assigned to her host, however, trespassers had to be dealt with accordingly. This was her turf. Gildarts was her property. She could practically wrap a leash around his throat then and there and humble the mage to his knees in a bow of submission.
You have one warning. Release him now. Or face the consequences, pest. Nealaphh’s mind-voice boomed so all three could hear.
“Don’t you see? I’m not the one keeping him here. Ever since this began, he chose to sit at my beckon. He chose to take a drink when commanded. Everyone wants a little control in their lives. Everyone wants an order to follow. Especially the weak. He’s my pet and will remain that way. You expect a loyal dog to run away from its home? No, see, I’ve beaten him into complete submission. He belongs here, believes abuse is the only way for he has known it for too long. Every word woven, every thought I've challenged. You let me nest in here for too long, you should have extracted me when you had the chance, Wover. But you had different priorities then, didn't you? He’s been tainted, corrupted, corroded, stained. He’s mine. I won’t release him so easily. Even if you do manage to extract me, he’ll come back when he is in need of power. I’m in a vault now, yet he allows me to linger within the edges of his feeble mind because he looks at me to compensate for the strength he doesn’t have. He’ll never be free. And he knows it. So he chooses this life. A life of enslavement because it is all he’s ever known. Bound by fear. He wants this. A life under my domain.” She spoke calmly.
Tearen remained quiet, her words were rich and yet not entirely baseless. The Malefactor turned her head on a swivel, revealing her grotesque ‘brain’ to the mage. He did not jump back in disgust. He had seen this form before. How many times had they shared a conversation in this room? How many times had he partaken in the fruits of her temptation? None? Or every time he was invite? It wasn’t a bad business deal, except for the fact that Gildarts never had to give up his rights to some creature who offered him only a placebo in return.
“Isn’t that right, Gildarts?” her expression bore into his soul.
Don’t answer that. Tearen commanded, seizing her bait, another web woven by the spider. She has offered you nothing but the control you already harbor within yourself. Her promise is false.
“Oh? How can you be certain?” she sneered from behind her wicked mug.
Tearen needn’t an explanation. Control is a choice. You chose her to control you. But you had the power of that choice all along. That's how you got here. It is also how you can leave. He hoped simplifying it for the mage made the truth evident in one concise slice.
Gildarts remained voiceless. His amber eyes appeared dampened as though he were bound by contract or governing law. Tearen stood up, she’d taken his voice from the beginning. This conversation was naught. He should have seen this. “You’ve stolen his voice, free him at once!” he spoke with his lips in a rasp, a tinge of emotion was evident: Frustration.
The Malefactor winked, “Make me.”
The room rumbled again. Tearen felt a flicker of his shadow surpass his ebony skin, she was calling him out. Gildarts caught a glimpse of Nealaphh’s familiar three eyed form and recognition sparked in his eyes. His lips remained mute. The God-mind thrust the choice to Gildarts lap one final time. Choose. He glared, next came the threat, Or I will.
It was extremely hard to say if Gildarts had any idea what was going on at this point. If she had so easily muted his lips, nothing was stopping the Malefactor from muting his ears. Meaning he could only respond to gestures, or perhaps only hear her commands. Only what she willed the tormented mage to do.
Tch. Tearen should’ve seen tactic this sooner. Gildarts had likely already signed his soul with his own blood on the dotted line. It was worth one more shot, Tearen gave Gildarts the opportunity to read his lips as the scratchy word came out, “Choose.”
Gildarts stood. He had heard that. Or read his lips. The God-mind sighed in relief, this might save him from doing much more… Damaging actions. The Malefactor remained perfectly content in her chair, which she continued to treat as her iron throne. Her expression commanded they both bow as did her now uncrossed legs. However, they’d been united by the revolutionary idea that free will could change not only this moment, but the rest of the Fairy Tail wizard's life.
“Oh Gilly, don’t you succumb to his evil tricks, remember, you remember that he’s the bad guy, don’t you?” She offered a crimson pout, her lips wobbled. "You've drawn his black blood on more than one occasion."
“It is time this fight cease. It has been waged within me far too long,” Gildarts spoke, his voice noble, proud.
Tearen approved.
“What’ll you boys do to me? Hm? I committed no crime of breaking and entering, I was let in here, knocked and the door was open,” she spoke of the vague law known to some vampiric lore.
We will expel you. Not I alone. Not he alone. But together. Tearen announced confidently, certain the Prime could hear him now.
Having a friend by Gildarts’ side offered comfort. Nealaphh, a friend. They had a common enemy, and well, you know the saying.
“Get out, or I will destroy you,” Gildarts threatened, malice in his voice was tangible, pulsing with newly awakened life drenched in anger.
“Oh, Gildarts, don’t you know if you destroy me, you destroy yourself?” the Malefactor flirted with the last truth up her sleeve. “But then again, you always were a martyr, funny though, self-preservation is quite… A bitch.”
“I’ll die a free man,” he was convinced.
“Even Omni can’t save you from that fate,” she reposted.
“So be it.”
She challenged, “What? You’re going to blast me off into oblivion now? I’ll break this entire mind palace apart, you’ll be nothing but a drooling vegetable, unable to be healed. Respawning every time a hollow mess of nothing, or maybe a dripping drooling time-bomb. That’s why Goddy over there hasn’t made any moves on me. He knows one wrong one in this place and it’ll allll falll downn..”
“No, there are better ways to fight someone like you than with violence,” Gildarts growled.
“Ridiculous, that is the only way to fight me. I won’t surrender otherwise.” Mal provoked him, fear sparkled in her eyes. Even the oaf of a mage was onto her weakness.
“You aren’t needed anymore,” Gildarts solidified his choice. “I am in control. And if I tumble out of that control, the man beside me will strike me down with everything he has. He won’t just kill me, he will break me into oblivion. It may be necessary. But he would do it for me, for the greater good, because that would be my choice. He would respect it. Something you never would be willing to do, for your greed for power defines you, and makes you so very readable.”
And pathetic.
“Nealaphh, er, Tearen. I am aware I’m still slumbering in a room full of Primes. See to it I kill none of them with this choice.” Gildarts spoke and then offered his hand out in a respectful shake. Tearen wasn’t sure he had faith in the mage to do this alone. However, it was now he who had no choice. Gildarts banished Wover from his mind.
The God-mind woke up, blinking in his body. Thrilling doubt prepared the God-mind to contain the blast somehow. The surge of power that could destroy this room, or split Karl’s entire pocket verse in half. Worry wove into his expression, for he could no longer observe. But, faith was restored. For if Gildarts could press the God-mind out of his thoughts, he could certainly rid himself of that disgusting villain with half a head.
The Malefactor and Gildarts were in the room alone. It was time to end this the way it had started. This time it was not Gildarts, but the Malefactor who would be sacrificed.
[/spoiler]
Quote:A line of my post was inspired by ATTICUS’s quote! I’m in love with his writing.There’s also another quote too that I didn’t even know existed that is VERY similar here.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus