Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Flashbacks: Ourevel: The End

Yet another vignette concerning the nature and life of Ourevel the Lustful:

All Is Fair:

As the ship that was once the city of Selene sped through the dark passes of shadow, the lasts of the angelic hosts that assailed it having turned or been destroyed, Love swept over the skies of the city, such as they were. It was an odd feeling, to fly free in this city that he had so long hidden from. Life had always been such a precious thing, especially his own, it seemed fitting that he had thrown it away first, since in only four days all life would perish with him. Even now he watched the four horsemen, at their posts, watching the city from above. They did not trust each other, these four spires of destruction, nor did they trust the seven that would go before them.

"Still," Love thought to himself as he watched them, "with only four days left to us, trust may not be necessary..." He looked at War, astride her red horse, practically worshiped by the soldiers that followed her and hating every moment of it. "For as they say...all is fair..."

Love winged his way up to Ayla Flamehair's side as she ran her legions through there never-ending drills, preparing for the battle to come. "Lady War." He gave her a quick nod of appreciation and no more. "Do you care if I call you by your new title? Both my mother and I have born the title 'witch' longer than you, and it seems odd to refer to you as our Queen." Love chuckled quietly and perched himself near the head of her dappled steed, striking a frank tone, seldom used.

"Much as you might disapprove of the company I keep. It seems we have some odd similarities, miss Flamehair. For instance, we have a certain dislike for my dearly departed mother. We are the fairest of mortal beings currently living, and in this I speak not from pride, for that is my brother's folly, not mine, but simple truth of observation. We, both of us, wield Sorrow as our weapons, both on and off the battlefield. We believe in Hope and this new world she promises. Most importantly though...we both are entangled in countless relationships that are not of a nature we desire..."

As the soldiers continue their practice, mustering, charging, and retreating with but the slightest gesture from the Lady War, Love drifts slowly away on the currents, his last words lingering in the air. "Tell me, Lady War. What does it feel like to have such devotion from your men?"



Moments like these were pleasant in their own way, they gave the witch time for reflection, and he had much to reflect upon. Lust had never thought that he had quite so much in common with his mother. True, he had aspired to her lofty post. From the start he had plotted with Deceit and Discord to bring about her death, he knew that now. In fact he had practically fallen into his own plot as a fly into a spider's web, unknowingly serving as the instrument of his own vengeance. Truly he had expected Wrath to accomplish that. And all because of that accursed hammer.

Lust laughed into the void, a fruitless, soundless act, for he had no body with which to laugh. The witch wished he had hands at this moment, so that he might tick off the extent of his folly since he first saw that bloody instrument. The Witchhammer, Hexenhammer, Witch-bane. It didn't know its true power until it met me. For it truly was meant to slay witches and now it has accomplished the pinnacle of that task. Except...my friends can always call me back. Death is never permanent.

A light, faint and trembling, appeared at the edge of the void. Somehow different from when he had been called back before.

Lust, had he a head and hands at this moment, would have hung his head and placed it in his hands. He longed for a body with which to weep, for through the faint light he felt something. This light was weak. This light was not growing and calling him as it always did. This was not Pride enforcing his will upon the cosmos to wrench his brother back from the void. This was not Gluttony, devouring the power of the gods to vomit forth life upon his broken body once again. Not even Wrath, unleashing his last hateful cries against the indignity of the world with power stolen from those he had slain. This was...grief. Their grief. Something unheard of from these brothers of his. These incarnations of selfish desire wept for his loss. He was...lost.

He contemplated, there from the void, his sins: Pride, in thinking that he could master the artifact that was forged to oppose his kind; Gluttony, in taking arms against his dear brothers over a simple apple; Envy, in desiring to take his mother's place at the head of their order; Wrath...in striking out at his own beloved mother; and Greed, in desiring to possess that bastard hammer. These were not his sins. They belonged to his brothers. They were not his sins to commit. All because of the hammer.

He had destroyed the hammer. Destroyed the body that had been tainted by it's touch. One small act...but nothing compared to his sins.

Still...his brothers wept for him.

Love faced Lust across the void and both looked down at the light of their brothers' grief. Lust looked broken, a shell of his former self, fallen from the purity of his purpose in his desire to encompass all sins. Love embraced her other self and wept with their brothers. "Look," she said, "They love us. Even evil in all its myriad forms is capable of love. You wished to embrace the power of your brothers and rule them in the next world. Remember who we are. They love us, and love is greater than fealty, greater than consumption, greater than ownership, conquers fear and despair, and...conquers death."

With a flicker, the light brightened and took form, flames bursting around it, a dark angel appearing in the center.

"Look," Love pulled Lust tighter to her. "Brother Gluttony calls to us in his love. You have destroyed the profane object that caused you to tread upon their ground. Go now to our brothers who love us and beg their forgiveness, let us ask of them what we can do to atone for our usurpation."

Lust wished for a body, that he might embrace Love more fully. "You say that we should go to them, but how? Lord Gluttony does us tribute, but they only weep. I am lost. I fear the hammer has won. In fact...I fear..."

Love smiled. "I have more than enough body for the both of us, and, as I said...Love conquers death."

The passion of their lovemaking within the void was more than even Ourevel could stand...but within the blink of an eye stand he did...on new legs and new wings...

With a burst of light and flames Lust was reborn into the world. As their enemies burned away, Lust alighted to the ground and knelt before the Lords Gluttony, Pride, Wrath, Envy, and Despair, the tears welling up in his eyes sublimating from the heat within him. "Brothers, I have sinned against you. What must I do to repent?"

Lord Gluttony shambled forward eagerly, and threw back his head and laughed. He struck a sudden pose, and drew himself up. The chamber darkened, and the only light seemed to shine from the lights on the dead world tree. He spoke in a voice that carried a practiced divinity that mocked its power.

"Ourevel, for your sins committed here and your sins against heaven, I command that you demonstrate that you have finally and forever thrown off the yoke of your desire for possessions. You must hold a great feast, using all the wealth you can muster, and you must make all welcome. Every man from the street, every beggar or prince, god or demon, all must be made welcome and satisfied."

"A feast? I come naked and prostrate and am asked for a feast. So it must be..." Ourevel looks back down the hall at the molten mound of copper, wondering where and how he might purchase sufficient food to satisfy the Lord Glutton and his servants.

"And you brothers? How can I repay the rest of you for my follies?"

Wrath looks on his bother Lust's new form and with a smile "We just don't do that dead thing very well, do we." And after what must be laughter from Gavroche. "As for any follies, you have none to atone for from me. Remember love has born more childen of anger and wrath then any other mother. And if I would have taken insult I would just have killed ya. But ye took care of that."

Wrath turns, ready once more to try to fullfill his divine desire for blood. "There be Dragons!"

The will of the others came as a flood of thoughts. Ourevel shook his head and laughed loudly.

"Is that all then? To pray fervently to Lord Pride. To teach despair to all the peoples of the world? To throw a feast of death? And...to find a nose for lord Envy. Here I thought I would have to do something difficult to reclaim my place among you..."