Bricks and Mortar

 

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal dynamics, they are not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create.

 

Rating: PG-13

 

Part: One of One

 

Set: During Defiance.

 

Authoress note: Woo Raziel’s back in my head . . . I had forgotten he was a whiny $%£”*^$

 

For all my reviewers, who without I would have surely given up a long time ago.

 

 

Bricks and Mortar

 

{Raziel}

 

It was just a building yet I was fearful of it. 

 

Vorador’s mansion, I have been here before, it was always a grand building even now that it is breaking apart it is still grand. So much history had happened in this place, yet very little of that history was monumental. I can not think of one large dramatic event that had occurred here. It was a home not a stage, a home to so many. Vorador built it and raised many here; Janos Audron once walked these hallways and was now entombed in the gardens. And Kain grew up here, Kain who’s blood was now on my hands. It feels like I left only moments ago and not long enough for something truly monumental to happen and yet it has. 

 

Two more of my ‘family’ are dead.

 

I had never given Turel much thought after my resurrection; after the death of Dumah Kain’s scent had been strong on the wind and had blown any thoughts of revenge on my last remaining sibling away. Then since the first fall through time I must admit that he had not crossed my mind until I found him in Avernus. Now he had fallen, and strangely enough I had found myself hesitating to destroy him, odd considering the anger I bore him and the little trouble I had had when killing his mortal self. But then the reaver had held me in thrall, and Janos’ demise had made my blood boil.

 

Kain’s death had surprised me.

 

For so long I told myself that I was hunting Kain and that when I eventually caught up to him I would kill him. But it had never truly felt real, never felt like it would ever actually happen, after all Kain was so . . .  well he was Kain. I doubt I had never really believed I would destroy him. I was like the mouse after the cat all I could hope for was to give him indigestion. But then he had never truly tried to destroy me either.

 

What were we doing then if not trying to cause each others destruction?

 

I had so many chances to destroy him yet only twice had I raised my hand. Only once his blood had fallen, it had fallen on the floor of the sanctuary of the clans, but the cut had been shallow and had taken only moments to heal.

 

He had not bled in the chloroplast chamber only laughed. Then at the pillars he had stood with his back to me, aware of my presence but for the entire world he seemed defenceless to me. I had lowered my weapon quickly, despite knowing that Kain was never truly defenceless. He had fallen before me in the serefan stronghold, but he had done so willingly and I had not struck at him despite being pushed by fate to do so. He had later saved me from fate, the reason for which was still unclear to me especially considering his fate at my hands on our last meeting.

 

Our last meeting. He had stood before me clearly aware of my madness yet still he had tried to reason with me. I had never once thought him stupid till he had tried to do that.  He had paid for his stupidity wit his blood.

 

Vorador’s mansion is smouldering as I entered.

 

Moebius was waiting with words that should not have fazed me but still I find myself questioning what I have done. It does not take long to deal with Moebius’ thugs and I leave the torched library. The building is devastated, wallpaper torn, windows smashed and carpet torn and burnt. Yet despite the destruction the building still held the sense of grandeur.

 

Many of the walls seemed to remain standing by force of will alone, the ceiling trembling with the effort to remain up. The torn carpets quivered under my claws. A few paintings remained on the walls somehow, and all the tapestries had fallen. Bit by bit the mansion was crumbling under the assault of Moebius’ thugs with the strange chemical fire. The walls that had not been ravaged by the strange fire held the weight of centuries, the rooms that had not yet been pillaged were worn despite their freedom from the thugs, having to bear the footsteps of undead, of sharp talons and slithering shadows.

 

There was energy here. In this place that had played home to the most powerful vampires in Nosgoth. Vorador had once walked these halls, emerald talons tearing at the rich carpet, Janos Audron had once flown into the library, blackened feathers falling to litter the floor and shelves and even fledgling Kain had torn his own way through here, spilling blood onto the carpets, blood of fledglings and blood of the scion. Yes this place had a strong energy.

 

I could feel it, stronger whenever I brushed against a wall or paused to figuratively catch my breath, leaning on a cracked pillar or broken chair. It was like a pulse, I could feel it coming up from the carpets through my own talons and into me. Yes this place was alive and now it was dying. The garden remained untouched and as I landed on the soft grass I turned to look at the shell of the mansion, the home of the vampires. Yes it was dying.

 

But what was I talking about, for after all …

 

It was all bricks and mortar.

 

End ficlet

 

Authoress note: I’m not even sure what this is about lol.

 

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