Thread: ATM II RPG
View Single Post
Old 06-22-2006, 12:33 PM   #128
Itinerant Songster
littlemanpoet's Avatar
Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: The Edge of Faerie
Posts: 7,049
littlemanpoet is a guest at the Prancing Pony.littlemanpoet is a guest at the Prancing Pony.
Panakeia sauntered up to Anakron, with some bit of fight in her she had apparently saved up for him. "Hello, Anakron. What was that about? The Wizards, I mean."

So he had been wrong. He had been hoping that maybe she could keep him from becoming the evil that raged within; instead she seemed to have a score to settle. He was not prepared for this. Far from it.

"Don't. Make. Me. Hurt. You."

There. That had released just enough to take the edge off. He hoped she would not say something that would send him over the brink.

Panakeia's exasperation showed only in a brief sigh. Make him hurt her? How ridiculous.

She told him so, though not in those words. "I can't make you hurt me, Anakron. No one can make you do anything. Only you can choose whether or not to hurt me." She sighed again, this time more pitying than annoyed. "If you don't want to talk about what the Wizards said, then don't. I was just curious. It's not every day that the Blue Istari decide to grant Panakeia of Harad their attention. I wondered why.

"But I wish you'd tell me what's bothering you. Really. Not this 'doomed to evil' business. You're not. You just took back the anakronism, didn't you? I'm not a Trekkie anymore. You must have. And that's encouraging."

Why did Anakron seem so enraged?

She didn't understand. I can't make you do anything, only you can choose. An anakronism from that awful future being spouted at him from her own lips! So glib. So self assured. So in danger. Her prattling was sending him back to the edge. Not evil.

Between clenched teeth he let out an inarticulate scream. Panakeia's eyes widened and she took a step back. Just one.

"Was that supposed to be how you'd hur-"

He threw down the staff and closed the distance between them in two quick strides. Her shoulders rose and she grimaced as he grabbed her by the back of the neck, forcing her head up so that their eyes met: he glared into hers.

"Yes, Panakeia of Harad, I am not evil .... yet," he bit. "The dweomer is!" He inhaled with a hiss. "Poor little Elempi hasn't much left to stave off Anakron and the dweomer. And you're not helping!" He let go of a sudden, the force snapping her head back.

The seething within seemed to drink from his action rather than release anything from him. He turned from her and paced back and forth like a big dog in a too small cage. He was ashamed of his use of force, especially on her, but he could not help it. He turned on her again.

"I do not have a choice in the matter! You have seen for yourself I am at their beck! They care not whether I win or fail, they'll find themselves another Anakron, one who will not stave off the worst of the dweomer. Do you think the false religions were bad? You have not seen forced relocation or scorched earth or genocide. Do you not see? They are not happy with me! They want me to bring destruction down on Mordor!"

He resumed his pacing, afraid to leave the alley, allowing Panakeia to serve as his jailer of sorts.
littlemanpoet is offline