While Arcade and Dylan were sitting in the Gomorrah having a pleasant evening, Vincent was up in the Lucky38 facing his demons.
Staring at himself in the mirror after having shaved his head he asked himself if he really would be able to impersonate a Legion warrior again. There were so many things he had gotten used to over the time that he was afraid some of these could give him away at some point. But failure was not an option. For Tara’s sake he had to succeed; he had been the best frumentarius of Caesar’s whole Legion, and for his queen and her people he would resume that role again, only this time he would be working for the other side.
He was aware of the dangers of this scheme of his, and had no illusions about what would happen to him if he would fail, if he would be found out. Death would be the least of his problems then. He hadn’t seen Tiberius in a few years, not since he had been a young, misbehaved cub and he somewhat doubted that his behaviour had much improved with age. He had been a spoiled brat, doted on by his father, used to getting his will at each and every moment. That, together with his unhealthy tendency to cruelty, was what had had many people in doubt if he really was a good choice for being Caesar’s successor, but he was his only son, so no one said this aloud.
And now this spoiled boy had come into power, and thinking about Tara being his hands made Vincent’s blood run cold. He would have gone after her the day he found out, but he knew his chances were zero if he just ran off like that. But the thought about Tara being a captive of the Legion ate him alive. Never in his life had he been as worried about someone else’s life as he was right now.
His reflection in the mirror looked back at him with tight lips and deep lines around narrowed eyes, one eye an empty socket, and the other giving him a deeply worried and tired look. “I will find her and bring her back, or die trying”, he said to the man in the mirror who seemed to sneer back after a moment’s thought. “And if you die trying, what will then become of her? Dying is not an option, it will mean you failed.”
With a shake of his head, Vincent turned away from his reflection and went to the bedroom where he sat down onto the bed, staring at the wall. He had never much cherished the company of others. But as he sat there in the bedroom of the Lucky38, where the smell of Tara’s hair still lingered in the sheets, he had never felt so lonely in his entire life. Or as afraid. x-x-x-x-x-x
Somewhere south of Lake Mead, beside the band of tarmac that was once the I 93, Tara sat hunched over, her face buried in her arms that were locked around her drawn-up knees, her legs weary from marching and her arms heavy from the shackles. The endless wind and cold desert night were indifferent to her fate, as indifferent at the six men who had captured her, sitting at their fire and not giving her a single look. Fear draped over her like a blanket. She should never have left Vincent’s side. x-x-x-x-x-x
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timeasmymeasure
Turn Wounds into Wisdom 5d/?
Date: 2014-09-03 06:10 am (UTC)Staring at himself in the mirror after having shaved his head he asked himself if he really would be able to impersonate a Legion warrior again. There were so many things he had gotten used to over the time that he was afraid some of these could give him away at some point. But failure was not an option.
For Tara’s sake he had to succeed; he had been the best frumentarius of Caesar’s whole Legion, and for his queen and her people he would resume that role again, only this time he would be working for the other side.
He was aware of the dangers of this scheme of his, and had no illusions about what would happen to him if he would fail, if he would be found out. Death would be the least of his problems then. He hadn’t seen Tiberius in a few years, not since he had been a young, misbehaved cub and he somewhat doubted that his behaviour had much improved with age. He had been a spoiled brat, doted on by his father, used to getting his will at each and every moment. That, together with his unhealthy tendency to cruelty, was what had had many people in doubt if he really was a good choice for being Caesar’s successor, but he was his only son, so no one said this aloud.
And now this spoiled boy had come into power, and thinking about Tara being his hands made Vincent’s blood run cold. He would have gone after her the day he found out, but he knew his chances were zero if he just ran off like that. But the thought about Tara being a captive of the Legion ate him alive. Never in his life had he been as worried about someone else’s life as he was right now.
His reflection in the mirror looked back at him with tight lips and deep lines around narrowed eyes, one eye an empty socket, and the other giving him a deeply worried and tired look.
“I will find her and bring her back, or die trying”, he said to the man in the mirror who seemed to sneer back after a moment’s thought. “And if you die trying, what will then become of her? Dying is not an option, it will mean you failed.”
With a shake of his head, Vincent turned away from his reflection and went to the bedroom where he sat down onto the bed, staring at the wall.
He had never much cherished the company of others.
But as he sat there in the bedroom of the Lucky38, where the smell of Tara’s hair still lingered in the sheets, he had never felt so lonely in his entire life. Or as afraid.
x-x-x-x-x-x
Somewhere south of Lake Mead, beside the band of tarmac that was once the I 93, Tara sat hunched over, her face buried in her arms that were locked around her drawn-up knees, her legs weary from marching and her arms heavy from the shackles. The endless wind and cold desert night were indifferent to her fate, as indifferent at the six men who had captured her, sitting at their fire and not giving her a single look.
Fear draped over her like a blanket. She should never have left Vincent’s side.
x-x-x-x-x-x