Chapitre 13: Plague - 3
[Abigail pov]
Light shone through the hood of my cloak. Illuminating naught but my eyes to the world. Their glow as they beheld the death and destruction in my wake.
Personal guards, those that worked directly under the lady of the house, or in extreme cases, under the man of the house. But that was unlikely to ever happen, as there was always someone to take the mantle upon the unfortunate demise of the lady.
But the personal guard's job was to take care of the lady. Of all their orders that may be too much for the regular guards. Those that had not been trained intensively for years upon years. Only hired and trained then.
It was their job to take care of necessary deaths, to forsake and kill those that had gone too far. And to maintain the protection and peace of their lady.
It was my garb of choice. There was no other option. If I were to be some regular guard then I would be recognized. Or even just regular garb.
Not only did I want to hide my identity as I was supposed to be out of town, on the road to the academy. But there was the simple fact that with that garb it was easier to blend in. Using the enchantments they came with.
Yet even as I looked out, throwing the reasons through my mind, it all came back to one thing. No, person was the right word.
Gabriel. The plan was simple, for the next three years we would not announce the marriage of our two houses. He would bear the surname of his own, then once he had graduated from the academy, with honors of course.
Only then would he be wed to me.
But there was another almost intangible benefit. One that made this plan oh so important.
And that was the prestige. To have an educated man, one that could lead his own house, given it would be below any run by a lady, wed to ours. It would only raise our status in the eyes of others.
Yet when I looked at him, at that miraculous power of his. That allowed him to heal all. And to the achievements that he may bring upon his name.
It brought even more prestige to marrying him later. To say that the Lauragnes were powerful enough to wed their daughter to a powerful saint.
But another reason came to mind. My hand placed against my heart. Where before it had beat so unsteadily, kept alive only by my own power.
Yet now, with no input of my own. It beat steadily and powerfully. A burden that had plagued me my whole life. Taken care of with contemptuous ease.
Golden eyes staring straight into mine, with a beauty that was otherworldly. One that had encapsulated me from the first stare.
That body of his. Sculpted from the finest clay. Made with divine hands.
It was truly a work of art. If only he could see, if only I could stare back into those purposeful eyes. Ones that without sight seemed to glow with a lustered shade. Broken apart by the simple fact that he could not see.
And as I watched him, forced to stand stock still among the other ladies. As they reached touching hand after touching hand. I found myself gritting my teeth in anger. Wanting nothing more than to strangle the whores that dare touch what was mine.
Yet as more and more sick came, their disease spread among those that helped. And as Gabriel healed more and more in a flash of golden light.
One that seemed to foretell some sort of halo, painting a scene of an angel. One that did not discriminate, that did not refuse one being.
More and more came, if not to be healed, then to look upon the visage of the angel who had healed them so.
Yet as I felt forces abound, dark energies that seemed to want nothing more than destruction. I was forced to leave my perch. To take one last look at that smirk of his as he waved me goodbye.
How he could do such a thing was beyond me. Yet still I waved back, even knowing that my beloved would not be able to see that.
A dagger pried through my stomach, yet it could not reach, as the hand that had tried to do such a thing was cut open. Spliced into a harrowing display of blood and flesh. A scowl echoing through the long night.
For that was what it would be. A long night, one that could be forgotten… in a mere blink of the eye.
…
[Gabriel pov]
Death, it was all that I could see. A tearful soul that passed through the world and dissipated into the ether. Another that struggled so, holding with all their force to stay in their body. Even as the devil beckoned their soul into their warm embrace.
A force that could not be denied.
I stood to the floor, hands flailing against hands. Ones that prete- no, did care. Yet they cared not for the lives in front of them, only for the one that had saved them.
Not for the potential thousands I could save, but for the ones that they had saved. For the warm comfort that they gave to them. Healing their father, their brother, their sister. All manner of family and friend.
Only that I remain safe, that I did not exhaust myself. Yet as I struggled to my feet, using sight that brought only the visage of souls.
Struggling over to those that struggled. For they, who had raged against death. For they who had looked death in the eye and spat.
I could do nothing but honor that conviction. Take upon them health, and upon myself wounds. Crying in anguish at the injustice.
Spreading my arms against the floor. Biting my teeth so hard. Yet even still I did not give in. I moved to the next. Against the raging tide of people that wanted nothing more than for me to rest.
To give in to my most base desire, to sleep. To rest and give myself the energy to save once more.
But as one fell once more, their soul leaving their body, signaling with a parting of two. Never to be returned again.
I felt another emotion rage through my body. A wet drop flow down my cheek and onto the ground. Where my hand had grabbed the dirt.
Bunching it up and tying it into a red hot pain. Only to fall to the ground. Wracked by the pain of my most recent heal.
Falling to the cold dirt. Where my cheek fell, covered in dirt and dragged to a pillow. A soft cushion that brought my ultimate demise.
Let loose were those base desires.
So heavy were my eyelids, telling me to sleep. Forcing my consciousness to fade to nothing. My last sight of nothing more than death. Primal fear for their lives. One that made me sick. Despite the rest forced upon my soul.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone