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Okay, Ao3 is NOT working for me today, so I’m posting the first chapter here :
This was written at 3 am on a school week, pls don’t judge.
Also english is not my first language :)
Fintan Pyren was dead.
Those were the only words inside Bronte’s mind, as he rigidly approached the frozen cell
. It was a cruel thing truly, to have made him come here to interrogate the prisonner.
To ask questions about his shared life with an old friend, to the vile monster who wore his face.
To look, not in those eyes that reminded him of the best memories of his life, but at those hands, that bore the bloods of thousands.
He stopped in front of the chairs, hesitating to sit down in one of them.
He couldn’t see him, yet. But he could feel the councillor’s presence behind the ice, he knew it. He knew him. Or at least, he had at some point.
And if there was one thing he knew about the damned pyrokinesist, is was that he never regressed in his abilities. Ever.
So, he stayed where he was. Taunting the blond maniac inside his cell, by depriving him of the tiniest bit of closure, for the longest time possible.
Maybe he was being petty. But to him, he deserved it. He deserved to be tortured, both physically and mentally, a shame that his colleagues had only approved of the later.
So he waited, a wicked grin on his face, standing as upright as is physically possible.
He knew ‘waiting’ was impossible for Fintan’s impatient nature, and he knew that, soon enough, the madman would call out to him, pissed of, preferably. So he just needed to wait, and maybe-
« Are you going to stand there ‘till the next Celestial festival ? »
…
« Could you even handle being left unattended for that long ? », he mused, finally stepping into the light.
Fintan’s POV :
The audacity ! Did the bastard actually believe him to be that desesperate ?!
« I see the councillors still haven’t stopped playing hide-and-seek » , he retorted, head tilting to the right in what seemed to be a very incomfortable position.
« Or are you the only childish one left, old friend ? »
On his skilled tongue, the word felt more like a tearing insult than an aknowledgement of their shared past millenias.
« Watch your tone Pyren, if you don’t wanna end up in more trouble than you already are ! »
« Oh, I wouldn’t dare dream of it, councillor », he spat out, venom dripping from his tongue, « do I need to bow, or will the usual flatteries suffice ? »
Insults were the only thing he could deliver to the brown haired councillor, and he would be damned if he didn’t take this chance.
« How about you bow down like you did the day of the pyrokinesy ban, Pyren ? Maybe then, it might remind the oaths you swore to your traitorous mind ! »
« The oaths I made ?! To live a life of misery, away from everything I’d ever known, and also condemning other pyrokinetics, to appease the worries of a bunch of nobodies ?! »
« Your ability wasn’t your life, Fintan ! »
The blond man lunged for the glass wall, stoping himself only short of the impact.
« It is ! Not that I would expect you to understand », he sneered. « A life without fire is merely survival, at best ! »
Bronte’s POV :
Aaand, there it was. The fear, in those icy blue eyes, even as the broken man tried to conserve the last threads of dignity he possessed.
« Oh, I’m sure being stuck in this lousy cell must be exquisite », the councillor mused, « but alas, I’ve come to interrogate you on more urgent matters than your philosophical inquiries. » he grinced the rest of the sentence out, now profusely irritated by the pyrokinesist’s annoying behavior.
« Ooh, the mighty council seeks my help ?! Should I bow ? Swoon, maybe ! Tell me, what would please his majesty best », he mocked, tilting his head down in a fake reverence.
Bronte could have sworn a vein had snapped in his forehead at the disrespect. And he was pretty sure it had, if the maniac’s wicked grin was any indication of his thoughts.
Clenching his teeth, the inflictor continued on :
« As I was saying, the council demands your—
« Demands ! Oh, thats rich !! » His tone filled with glee, as he advanced closer still, providing Bronte with a clearer view of the madness in his eyes.
« Fintan, I’m warning you… »
« Or what, he yelled, are you gonna order me to stop ? » he cackled , laughter catching up to him at the end of his sentence. He looked positively deranged.
Closer than ever now, and only separated by the transparent wall, bronte looked him over, up and down, and up again, looking for the best place to strike once he’d have had the guards open the cell.
Not that he was allowed to, of course. But what emery didn’t know couldn’t hurt him too much, right ?
Catching his gaze, the pyrokinetic’s grin widened, mocking, as he taunted again :
« Looking for the best place to strike, councillor ? Or maybe the view of my debauched state is more to your liking ? »
Bronte tensed at that, restraining the urge to break down the wall and send the rebel barelling through the ice shards.
Damn, he does know me well.
« Oh don’t tell me I hit right , did I ? Are the years of celibacy finally catching up to you so much, you get attracted to your own prisonners », he questionned, narrowing his eyes, the mocking smile on his face stretching out too.
What—Ancients !
The councillor reeled back as his brain finally registered the maniac’s taunts, looking even more disgusted than when he had learnt the existence of the Black Swan’s creation.
Readying the ball of pure, unfiltered hate beneath his ribs, he prepared to strike, fully intending tp take the maniac down with his disgusting words.
But, just as he was just about to inflict, a guard barged into the room, whispering in his ears of the urgency of his presence at the castles.
Swearing under his breath, he abruptly turned around, not sparing a glance to his prisonner, refusing to let him see how much his words had shaken him.
The last thing he thought before exiting the corridor, passing the ice-covered metal doors, his cloak billowing behind him as he advanced through the snow, and readied his crystal to light-leap back to Eternalia, was a pure, hainous thought :
« I’m going to kill this bastard, even if it’s the last thing I do in my life. »
Aaaaand, they lived hainously forever!! End of chapter 1
…what did you think?
Don’t hesitate to point out EVERY typo you find please. It’ll help me master english!!!
Okay, Ao3 is NOT working for me today, so I’m posting the first chapter here :
This was written at 3 am on a school week, pls don’t judge.
Also english is not my first language :)
Fintan Pyren was dead.
Those were the only words inside Bronte’s mind, as he rigidly approached the frozen cell
. It was a cruel thing truly, to have made him come here to interrogate the prisonner.
To ask questions about his shared life with an old friend, to the vile monster who wore his face.
To look, not in those eyes that reminded him of the best memories of his life, but at those hands, that bore the bloods of thousands.
He stopped in front of the chairs, hesitating to sit down in one of them.
He couldn’t see him, yet. But he could feel the councillor’s presence behind the ice, he knew it. He knew him. Or at least, he had at some point.
And if there was one thing he knew about the damned pyrokinesist, is was that he never regressed in his abilities. Ever.
So, he stayed where he was. Taunting the blond maniac inside his cell, by depriving him of the tiniest bit of closure, for the longest time possible.
Maybe he was being petty. But to him, he deserved it. He deserved to be tortured, both physically and mentally, a shame that his colleagues had only approved of the later.
So he waited, a wicked grin on his face, standing as upright as is physically possible.
He knew ‘waiting’ was impossible for Fintan’s impatient nature, and he knew that, soon enough, the madman would call out to him, pissed of, preferably. So he just needed to wait, and maybe-
« Are you going to stand there ‘till the next Celestial festival ? »
…
« Could you even handle being left unattended for that long ? », he mused, finally stepping into the light.
Fintan’s POV :
The audacity ! Did the bastard actually believe him to be that desesperate ?!
« I see the councillors still haven’t stopped playing hide-and-seek » , he retorted, head tilting to the right in what seemed to be a very incomfortable position.
« Or are you the only childish one left, old friend ? »
On his skilled tongue, the word felt more like a tearing insult than an aknowledgement of their shared past millenias.
« Watch your tone Pyren, if you don’t wanna end up in more trouble than you already are ! »
« Oh, I wouldn’t dare dream of it, councillor », he spat out, venom dripping from his tongue, « do I need to bow, or will the usual flatteries suffice ? »
Insults were the only thing he could deliver to the brown haired councillor, and he would be damned if he didn’t take this chance.
« How about you bow down like you did the day of the pyrokinesy ban, Pyren ? Maybe then, it might remind the oaths you swore to your traitorous mind ! »
« The oaths I made ?! To live a life of misery, away from everything I’d ever known, and also condemning other pyrokinetics, to appease the worries of a bunch of nobodies ?! »
« Your ability wasn’t your life, Fintan ! »
The blond man lunged for the glass wall, stoping himself only short of the impact.
« It is ! Not that I would expect you to understand », he sneered. « A life without fire is merely survival, at best ! »
Bronte’s POV :
Aaand, there it was. The fear, in those icy blue eyes, even as the broken man tried to conserve the last threads of dignity he possessed.
« Oh, I’m sure being stuck in this lousy cell must be exquisite », the councillor mused, « but alas, I’ve come to interrogate you on more urgent matters than your philosophical inquiries. » he grinced the rest of the sentence out, now profusely irritated by the pyrokinesist’s annoying behavior.
« Ooh, the mighty council seeks my help ?! Should I bow ? Swoon, maybe ! Tell me, what would please his majesty best », he mocked, tilting his head down in a fake reverence.
Bronte could have sworn a vein had snapped in his forehead at the disrespect. And he was pretty sure it had, if the maniac’s wicked grin was any indication of his thoughts.
Clenching his teeth, the inflictor continued on :
« As I was saying, the council demands your—
« Demands ! Oh, thats rich !! » His tone filled with glee, as he advanced closer still, providing Bronte with a clearer view of the madness in his eyes.
« Fintan, I’m warning you… »
« Or what, he yelled, are you gonna order me to stop ? » he cackled , laughter catching up to him at the end of his sentence. He looked positively deranged.
Closer than ever now, and only separated by the transparent wall, bronte looked him over, up and down, and up again, looking for the best place to strike once he’d have had the guards open the cell.
Not that he was allowed to, of course. But what emery didn’t know couldn’t hurt him too much, right ?
Catching his gaze, the pyrokinetic’s grin widened, mocking, as he taunted again :
« Looking for the best place to strike, councillor ? Or maybe the view of my debauched state is more to your liking ? »
Bronte tensed at that, restraining the urge to break down the wall and send the rebel barelling through the ice shards.
Damn, he does know me well.
« Oh don’t tell me I hit right , did I ? Are the years of celibacy finally catching up to you so much, you get attracted to your own prisonners », he questionned, narrowing his eyes, the mocking smile on his face stretching out too.
What—Ancients !
The councillor reeled back as his brain finally registered the maniac’s taunts, looking even more disgusted than when he had learnt the existence of the Black Swan’s creation.
Readying the ball of pure, unfiltered hate beneath his ribs, he prepared to strike, fully intending tp take the maniac down with his disgusting words.
But, just as he was just about to inflict, a guard barged into the room, whispering in his ears of the urgency of his presence at the castles.
Swearing under his breath, he abruptly turned around, not sparing a glance to his prisonner, refusing to let him see how much his words had shaken him.
The last thing he thought before exiting the corridor, passing the ice-covered metal doors, his cloak billowing behind him as he advanced through the snow, and readied his crystal to light-leap back to Eternalia, was a pure, hainous thought :
« I’m going to kill this bastard, even if it’s the last thing I do in my life. »
Aaaaand, they lived hainously forever!! End of chapter 1
…what did you think?
Don’t hesitate to point out EVERY typo you find please. It’ll help me master english!!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Okay, Ao3 is NOT working for me today, so I’m posting the first chapter here :
This was written at 3 am on a school week, pls don’t judge.
Also english is not my first language :)
Fintan Pyren was dead.
Those were the only words inside Bronte’s mind, as he rigidly approached the frozen cell
. It was a cruel thing truly, to have made him come here to interrogate the prisonner.
To ask questions about his shared life with an old friend, to the vile monster who wore his face.
To look, not in those eyes that reminded him of the best memories of his life, but at those hands, that bore the bloods of thousands.
He stopped in front of the chairs, hesitating to sit down in one of them.
He couldn’t see him, yet. But he could feel the councillor’s presence behind the ice, he knew it. He knew him. Or at least, he had at some point.
And if there was one thing he knew about the damned pyrokinesist, is was that he never regressed in his abilities. Ever.
So, he stayed where he was. Taunting the blond maniac inside his cell, by depriving him of the tiniest bit of closure, for the longest time possible.
Maybe he was being petty. But to him, he deserved it. He deserved to be tortured, both physically and mentally, a shame that his colleagues had only approved of the later.
So he waited, a wicked grin on his face, standing as upright as is physically possible.
He knew ‘waiting’ was impossible for Fintan’s impatient nature, and he knew that, soon enough, the madman would call out to him, pissed of, preferably. So he just needed to wait, and maybe-
« Are you going to stand there ‘till the next Celestial festival ? »
…
« Could you even handle being left unattended for that long ? », he mused, finally stepping into the light.
Fintan’s POV :
The audacity ! Did the bastard actually believe him to be that desesperate ?!
« I see the councillors still haven’t stopped playing hide-and-seek » , he retorted, head tilting to the right in what seemed to be a very incomfortable position.
« Or are you the only childish one left, old friend ? »
On his skilled tongue, the word felt more like a tearing insult than an aknowledgement of their shared past millenias.
« Watch your tone Pyren, if you don’t wanna end up in more trouble than you already are ! »
« Oh, I wouldn’t dare dream of it, councillor », he spat out, venom dripping from his tongue, « do I need to bow, or will the usual flatteries suffice ? »
Insults were the only thing he could deliver to the brown haired councillor, and he would be damned if he didn’t take this chance.
« How about you bow down like you did the day of the pyrokinesy ban, Pyren ? Maybe then, it might remind the oaths you swore to your traitorous mind ! »
« The oaths I made ?! To live a life of misery, away from everything I’d ever known, and also condemning other pyrokinetics, to appease the worries of a bunch of nobodies ?! »
« Your ability wasn’t your life, Fintan ! »
The blond man lunged for the glass wall, stoping himself only short of the impact.
« It is ! Not that I would expect you to understand », he sneered. « A life without fire is merely survival, at best ! »
Bronte’s POV :
Aaand, there it was. The fear, in those icy blue eyes, even as the broken man tried to conserve the last threads of dignity he possessed.
« Oh, I’m sure being stuck in this lousy cell must be exquisite », the councillor mused, « but alas, I’ve come to interrogate you on more urgent matters than your philosophical inquiries. » he grinced the rest of the sentence out, now profusely irritated by the pyrokinesist’s annoying behavior.
« Ooh, the mighty council seeks my help ?! Should I bow ? Swoon, maybe ! Tell me, what would please his majesty best », he mocked, tilting his head down in a fake reverence.
Bronte could have sworn a vein had snapped in his forehead at the disrespect. And he was pretty sure it had, if the maniac’s wicked grin was any indication of his thoughts.
Clenching his teeth, the inflictor continued on :
« As I was saying, the council demands your—
« Demands ! Oh, thats rich !! » His tone filled with glee, as he advanced closer still, providing Bronte with a clearer view of the madness in his eyes.
« Fintan, I’m warning you… »
« Or what, he yelled, are you gonna order me to stop ? » he cackled , laughter catching up to him at the end of his sentence. He looked positively deranged.
Closer than ever now, and only separated by the transparent wall, bronte looked him over, up and down, and up again, looking for the best place to strike once he’d have had the guards open the cell.
Not that he was allowed to, of course. But what emery didn’t know couldn’t hurt him too much, right ?
Catching his gaze, the pyrokinetic’s grin widened, mocking, as he taunted again :
« Looking for the best place to strike, councillor ? Or maybe the view of my debauched state is more to your liking ? »
Bronte tensed at that, restraining the urge to break down the wall and send the rebel barelling through the ice shards.
Damn, he does know me well.
« Oh don’t tell me I hit right , did I ? Are the years of celibacy finally catching up to you so much, you get attracted to your own prisonners », he questionned, narrowing his eyes, the mocking smile on his face stretching out too.
What—Ancients !
The councillor reeled back as his brain finally registered the maniac’s taunts, looking even more disgusted than when he had learnt the existence of the Black Swan’s creation.
Readying the ball of pure, unfiltered hate beneath his ribs, he prepared to strike, fully intending tp take the maniac down with his disgusting words.
But, just as he was just about to inflict, a guard barged into the room, whispering in his ears of the urgency of his presence at the castles.
Swearing under his breath, he abruptly turned around, not sparing a glance to his prisonner, refusing to let him see how much his words had shaken him.
The last thing he thought before exiting the corridor, passing the ice-covered metal doors, his cloak billowing behind him as he advanced through the snow, and readied his crystal to light-leap back to Eternalia, was a pure, hainous thought :
« I’m going to kill this bastard, even if it’s the last thing I do in my life. »
Aaaaand, they lived hainously forever!! End of chapter 1
…what did you think?
Don’t hesitate to point out EVERY typo you find please. It’ll help me master english!!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Fintan: "Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."
Fintan : ...
Fintan : What a stupid fucking quote.
Fintan : I'm killing way more than two people, idiot.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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