I Shall
I: London,
England: condominium of Lady Stephanie Erin Dynasty-Lancaster
The grandfather clock tics
stoically and rhythmically as it has for the past two centuries.
It is a quiet observer, indifferent to the happenings of mortals.
Its purpose is clear, its intentions true, and does so without fear or
fortune.
I look up and hear the gears winding.
It's midnight.
It strikes once. Twice. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
Another day consigned to history to be forgotten in the countless ages of the universe.
At my age, time seems all the more relevant.
My bone china tea cup, filled with Queen Mary Tea - truly my favourite Twinings blend - steams and longs for attention. I should not partake in tea at such a late hour, but it does soothe the soul. I offered Her Ladyship a cup whilst I was making it, but she relented. Her pen it appears will be doing all the soul soothing she requires.
My hand, trembling, just somewhat, takes the tea and I sip gingerly as I walk over to where her Ladyship sits writing her correspondence.
She turns her head and smiles sweetly at me. Such eyes I have never beheld in a woman. I return her smile graciously.
I never smiled when I was employed by His Grace. But in this home, it is a home of love, where God lives, and lives strongly, and I smile.
I am content here.
Her smile fades though as she releases a heavy sigh.
"Your Ladysh...Stephanie. Miss."
Her smile returns. She tolerates my old habits.
"It's okay Simkins. I'm writing to Seamus to thank him for what he tried to do for Robert."
She averts her eyes in near shame. "But I cannot help but feel responsible for putting him through the hell that he went through in that bout."
It was hell. I had the misfortune of seeing one of Belfast's best native sons fall to defeat by the servant of Lucifer, this Avarice. His bodily toll was high, his mental scars however were incalculable. He yoked all his strength, yet Satan's luck fell on his foe's - our foe's - side.
"I can only hope I do Mr. Finnegan justice when I tell you that he himself would not dare blame you or would somehow chastise you for the match he had. He chose to participate on his own free will and he fought valiantly. Be proud of him. Thank him. That is all that you should do, if one may suggest, your Ladyship."
She glanced at her letter - only letterhead at that moment - then back up at me. "There's the 'L' word again." Arising from her chair, she tip-toes up and kisses my cheek. I will never get used to that and I am overwhelmed with embarrassment.
"I think I need some tea after all. And I've made a decision."
I follow her into the kitchen, wiping my cheek, holding my hands behind my back.
She stands over the stove top, placing the kettle onto the burner.
"I'm through with trying to save him. I give up Simkins. I can't do this anymore. I need to forget him, forever. And I will."
I have no words. I understand her decision. Her only connection will remain their son.
My connection however cannot be severed. I shall never severe it. She has given up.
I shall never.
II: moments before Outrage, locker room of Avarice
I shall never.
I shall never let go of this opportunity my Dark Lord has finally seen fit to give me. CAL or no CAL.
I have worked too hard. Too long. I can almost taste it.
I shall do it for Him first and foremost. For my wife. She is my all, my steadfast confidante, my love, my existence.
And I shall do it for myself. From the CWF, to MSWA, to OLW. Yes. For myself.
For us.
Avarice, the
Destroyer of Worlds.
For we are that we are.
Daemon Curtis' time is at hand.
For now.
Ours: to come.
We look at ourselves in the mirror.
The scars from the barbed wire scream loud.
We listen intently.
Daemon Curtis' place in history.
Shall be a footnote.
Ours:
We deftly place two red contact lenses into our eyes.
immortality.
I look up and hear the gears winding.
It's midnight.
It strikes once. Twice. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
Another day consigned to history to be forgotten in the countless ages of the universe.
At my age, time seems all the more relevant.
My bone china tea cup, filled with Queen Mary Tea - truly my favourite Twinings blend - steams and longs for attention. I should not partake in tea at such a late hour, but it does soothe the soul. I offered Her Ladyship a cup whilst I was making it, but she relented. Her pen it appears will be doing all the soul soothing she requires.
My hand, trembling, just somewhat, takes the tea and I sip gingerly as I walk over to where her Ladyship sits writing her correspondence.
She turns her head and smiles sweetly at me. Such eyes I have never beheld in a woman. I return her smile graciously.
I never smiled when I was employed by His Grace. But in this home, it is a home of love, where God lives, and lives strongly, and I smile.
I am content here.
Her smile fades though as she releases a heavy sigh.
"Your Ladysh...Stephanie. Miss."
Her smile returns. She tolerates my old habits.
"It's okay Simkins. I'm writing to Seamus to thank him for what he tried to do for Robert."
She averts her eyes in near shame. "But I cannot help but feel responsible for putting him through the hell that he went through in that bout."
It was hell. I had the misfortune of seeing one of Belfast's best native sons fall to defeat by the servant of Lucifer, this Avarice. His bodily toll was high, his mental scars however were incalculable. He yoked all his strength, yet Satan's luck fell on his foe's - our foe's - side.
"I can only hope I do Mr. Finnegan justice when I tell you that he himself would not dare blame you or would somehow chastise you for the match he had. He chose to participate on his own free will and he fought valiantly. Be proud of him. Thank him. That is all that you should do, if one may suggest, your Ladyship."
She glanced at her letter - only letterhead at that moment - then back up at me. "There's the 'L' word again." Arising from her chair, she tip-toes up and kisses my cheek. I will never get used to that and I am overwhelmed with embarrassment.
"I think I need some tea after all. And I've made a decision."
I follow her into the kitchen, wiping my cheek, holding my hands behind my back.
She stands over the stove top, placing the kettle onto the burner.
"I'm through with trying to save him. I give up Simkins. I can't do this anymore. I need to forget him, forever. And I will."
I have no words. I understand her decision. Her only connection will remain their son.
My connection however cannot be severed. I shall never severe it. She has given up.
I shall never.
II: moments before Outrage, locker room of Avarice
I shall never.
I shall never let go of this opportunity my Dark Lord has finally seen fit to give me. CAL or no CAL.
I have worked too hard. Too long. I can almost taste it.
I shall do it for Him first and foremost. For my wife. She is my all, my steadfast confidante, my love, my existence.
And I shall do it for myself. From the CWF, to MSWA, to OLW. Yes. For myself.
For us.
Avarice, the
Destroyer of Worlds.
For we are that we are.
Daemon Curtis' time is at hand.
For now.
Ours: to come.
We look at ourselves in the mirror.
The scars from the barbed wire scream loud.
We listen intently.
Daemon Curtis' place in history.
Shall be a footnote.
Ours:
We deftly place two red contact lenses into our eyes.
immortality.
TO
WAR AND THE WAR SHALL NOT END THE SIEGE SHALL NOT RELENT UNTIL VICTORY
IS OURS.