pagemistress: (elias campbell)
[personal profile] pagemistress
Fandom: Original (The Fates of Angels)
Character(s): Mostly Elias.
Word Count: 725
Author's Note: Yet another point in the story that I have yet to reach but have a vague idea of the unfolding of events. This is just a tiny glimpse into that.

He jumped to his feet, appalled and confused by what he had witnessed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diego make an aborted movement to stop him lurching forward, towards Dagan's kneeling form, but he stopped of his own accord. Should he go to him? Should he run and never look back, forget he had ever met the man? It would be so easy to conform and accept the norm like he should have, would have, had Dagan not gotten to him first. But in the short space of time that he had been his apprentice, he had been shown so much and didn't think he could just forget it all under these unforeseen circumstances. He had heard them whispering, heard words like "brainwashing" and "manipulating" being carelessly tossed around. They didn't understand. Elias could barely understand himself, but he was at least willing to listen. Maybe that was why Dagan had taken to him in the first place. Or maybe he did just think he was young and niave enough to mold to his liking.

As the thoughts chased each other around his head, Dagan's eyes lifted from the corpse in front of him to meet Elias'. The moment stretched as Dagan stared right into him, as if searching for something, hands still twitching with the strength it had taken to break the man's neck. Diego remained passive at Elias' side, unsure whether he should risk leaving them alone but feeling like an interloper. Just as Elias was about to break eye contact, uncomfortable with the attention, Dagan's mouth twitched into resigned and ugly smile. His eyes drifted back to the slowly disappearing form of Caleb on the ground, fingers idly playing with the ornate robes that he had so often disparaged as he nodded slightly to himself.

When he spoke, it's unexpectedness made both Elias and Diego start and they had to lean in to make out the words due to the roughness of his voice. "Follow who you will, boy," he began, eyes still remaining downcast as his whole form started to tense, as if he were fighting against something, "But be sure to feel. Don't let them quash what you have fought hard to regain."

Diego frowned at the words but Elias remained impassive, refusing to acknowledge the sentiment one way or the other. When Dagan looked up again, the fear that was plain on his face was like a physical blow to Elias, forcing the air from his lungs. Never had he seen him anything but controlled, even when he was angry or frustrated. It was then that he noticed the change of his skin, the way it had begun to glisten silver, as if a second skin of ice were forming over his body. Dagan seemed aware of it, expectant even, and dismissed Elias' wide-eyed stare with a weary wave of his hand.

"Follow who you will," he repeated, the words sounding more and more of a struggle, "But not me. I go where none can follow. Better yet, lead for a change. Your...pig-headedness...will get you far." He chuckled to himself but it came out more like a wheeze and it was the last exhale he managed before his whole body became rigid, encased in the silver film.

A choked sound escaped Elias and this time Diego did move to hold him back before he could even think of approaching the form of his...friend? Mentor? ...Downfall? Without warning, the figure rocketed into the open sky, propelling them both back with the sheer force of it and sliding them a good distance across the marble floors. When Elias had finally gotten his wits about him once more, he scrabbled to his knees, dragging himself across to where Dagan had been. Both figures were now gone and there was zero evidence of what had just occured, save the only two people that had witnessed it.

Diego, who had made it to his feet, tapped him softly on the shoulder but Elias just continued to stare at the bare ground. He dimly heard the young man sigh before shuffling away, leaving him to his half-formed and endless thoughts.

Clenching his fists together, he raised himself up and squared his shoulders as if preparing for battle. Considering who he knew he had to pay a visit to, maybe he was.

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Catherine

August 2012

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