(no subject)

[shelley_winters]

Still no door.

The back gate at the pub, the cupboard under the stairs at home, the sidegate in the park. Nothing. Shelley sits morosely and not a little worriedly on a bench as night slowly falls around her. It has been a few days now, and it isn't like Ishamael to leave her out of his control for so long. Having him come and find her is not on her list of good things.

She gets up, and walks slowly along the path, keeping a hopeful eye out. A tramp she passes waves at something just over her right shoulder. A cool breeze blows a few drops of light rain over her face and she shivers.

This is not good.

Comments

[woven-threads.livejournal.com]

Ralph raises his eyebrows and blows out the candle.

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

And the power was gone.

The flows simply vanished and Ishamael stood in stunned shock. How... There was not even a shield, and this old man could never have--

A sudden blinding pain drove him to his knees, wrenching the air from his chest. His skin was so tight, it felt like his body was being crushed.

--It was impossible! There was no way! A baleful look from Ishamael, snarling out viciously.

"What did you do, you qala yiddeoni?"

[woven-threads.livejournal.com]

Ralph nods in satisfaction, storing the candle back inside his coat, and taking out a hipflask.

"I settled a debt and removed a danger, while giving you the chance to learn a sharp lesson about mistreating young ladies."

He takes a sip.

"Grateful, lad?"

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

A sharp cry from another bout of wracking pains. A thin sheen of cold sweat on his face as he growled an oath at Ralph. If he could even move, or touch just a trickle of his powers, then he would tear this old man to ribbons, but he could not even feel the source, and the pain was paralyzing his body.

"...Damn you, you ba'as benharas!"

[woven-threads.livejournal.com]

"Actually, I think you're the damned one," Ralph points out, before putting away the hip flask and rubbing his hands briskly.

"Well, I should be off. But there are terms to this, y'understand? Want to know about them?"

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

A low, hateful growl from Ishamael in response, his arms still tightly curled about his body in response to the agonizing pains.

They were subsiding, and once he could move, Ishamael was intent on snapping Ralph's feeble neck with his bare hands.

There was certainly going to be satisfaction in that.

[woven-threads.livejournal.com]

"No? Well, means nothing t'me if you never use it again. The strong stuff'll rot your liver - either metaphorical or actual, and you..." he shakes his head.

It had burned in him from the first sight he got. Ralph doesn't mind working with the Black Arts now and again, but that went beyond dark. Better out of his hands.

"Well, suffice it to say, you had better make it up to Miss Winters. And I'm not giving you forever. You work at it, or you lose everything for good, y'hear?"

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

A sharp, angry retort from Ishamael. Trying to stand, he faltered and was driven back to his knees.

"So you want me to be nice to her? Bake her a few desserts, perhaps?"

[woven-threads.livejournal.com]

"I want you to make up for all your previous bad behaviour. If you can get her to forgive you enough to love you... I reckon that'll do."

Ralph smiles to himself, pleased. This more than makes up for the unfortunate zombification misunderstanding.

"You won't have forever, though, so don't drag your feet, or it's gone for good. Here."

From one of the straggly rose bushes in the path border, Ralph selects a budding rose and picks it at the stem. He blows on it once, and it shivers in an imperceptible wind as he tosses it at Ishamael's feet.

"This'll tell you how long you have. When it's dead, you might as well be. Clear?"

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Ishamael simply stared blankly at the rose.
And all shall be well and
So that was it?
All manner of thing shall be well
Win her heart and his powers would return. How very... ironic. He had till the rose withered then, or he would never be able to escape this place. Not that he had not been planning on winning her heart as it was, but...
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
With a grimace, Ishamael slowly rose to his feet. The old man was gone. How odd. Sighing, he picked up the rose and turned it over several times in his hands.
Into the crowned knot of fire
No matter.
And the fire and the rose are one.
Gazing up at the grey sky, a few fat raindrops splattered on his face in the empty park. Water coursing down his cheeks like tears, and his white suit darkening, the budding rose in his hand clenched tightly. The cold wind whispered amongst the willows on that dark night.

(Incipit Ultima Tentatio)