#the second commandment

You are not to make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God.

What is this? Answer:

We are to fear and love God, so that we do not curse, swear, practice magic, lie, or deceive using God’s name, but instead use that very name in every time of need to call on, pray to, praise, and give thanks to God.

“To give something we hold dearest up. What do they take me for? Someone who holds things dear to me? Only one thing I hold closest, and nothing will take her away from me.”

The Elezen stood by the window in his home, watching the rain pour heavily to the earth. Anger stewed inside of him. He knew with his words, he would have to chose wisely, or else They would hear him.

“Then if you do not give her up, what else is there to give? I know of something.”

A voice spoke out, though nothing could be seen. At least to anyone but Locian. The Elezen turned, lifting his head to look up. He could see it. The Voidsent he had contracted years ago. The being that helped give him power. “And what might that be?” The curious man asked the creature of the void.

The Voidsent was fitting for the Devil. Shadowy and cloaked in darkness, it’s face covered by a black hood. Chains wrapped around its body, dangling down as if it was part of its clothing. It was as if Death itself had made a contract with the Devil.

“The grudge you’ve held onto for years against your brother Zathorin. Give nothing in its entirety, just a piece. For all we know, memories and things taken away could return once They have what they want.”

The Voidsent’s voice was deep yet smooth and held a slight echo to it. It simply hovered in front of the Elezen as it spoke. Though Locian could not see it’s eyes, one could tell it was making eye contact with it’s ‘master’. A brow was risen at the thought. Locian turned away from his ‘servant’ to gaze out the window, peering into the darkness of the night that was at times illuminated by a flash of lightning. “I suppose you are right. My hunger for power does not lie solely with the grudge I hold against him. Fine. I will give it up for now and see how things play out.”

“Then you do not need me anymore.” The Voidsent said, turning away from Locian and began to move away from him. Locian quickly turned, a shocked expression over his slender features. “Where are you going? Are you leaving now?” The voidsent stopped, turning its head back to its former master. “You are in no need of my assistance anymore. So I shall take my leave.” It began to move away from Locian once again. With anger, the man growled, both of his eyes glowing as the fire within him rose. His right hand reached towards his left side, gripping the handle of the unseen blade that rested on his hip. Without hesitation, the Elezen rose the now visible sword, moving swipe at the Voidsents back.

 “I own you!!!” He yelled out, but before the man could react, his blade was caught. The Voidsent held the blade tight within it’s bony grasp and no matter how much the Elezen tried to push, the sword never budged.

“You…”

The reaper began to speak, with swiftness it’s free hand took hold of Locian’s neck, gripping tight enough to lift the Elezen into the air. “...do not own me, mortal.” Locian let go of the sword, reaching to try and pry the Voidsents grip from his neck, but it was useless. He gasped for air, looking up at the face of death for the third time in his life. “I’ll..kill more for you. Gather as much aether and…” A deep breath was taken in with the pause. “...souls as you want. If anything letting go of…” Another pause. “...the grudge will help push me far beyond what I am now. Please.”

The Voidsent dropped Locian to the ground, hovering above the now coughing Elezen. “The Faceless do not care what happen to the likes of me. But I suppose if you do their bidding, it will benefit me in the long run in some way. Very well. I will stay, mortal. For now. Do not fail me.” The reaper like Voidsent faded from sight. Locian’s left eye shined for a moment before returning to it’s normal purple color. Slowly the Elezen lifted himself, panting slightly heavy still.

“You heard me. You know what I wish to give up...to prove my loyalty to you.”

Mentions:

@the-faceless-ffxiv

Venturing into the black was never an easy task for the Shoat of the Mire. While her “brother” found his solace in the darkness with natural ease, she found it difficult, murky, like a pond full of tar or a mouth full of gum. Without a companion, traveling would have otherwise been such a long and arduous thing on foot, and so she once more made use of that thing which bound all darkness: the Noct.

She wouldn’t need to venture below the halls, not for this, but it was still a less than pleasant journey to undertake. Deep into the wilds of Dravania, along the base of the jagged range that makes up Abalathia’s Spine. Where she plans to go she had told no one else, nor had she waited until she had replaced her companion hound. That would be a special project all its own, and she decides that it would suit much better for her new pets to be disconnected from such tragedy.

It’s easy to tell the edge of the Noss Fens apart from the rest of the northern wilds, the saturation of color sapped to a sickly off-green hue. She steps quietly through the bog, knowing the roads as if a map were imprinted on the backs of her eyes. But truly, she could never really forget the place. She had grown up here, after all. Her target isn’t difficult to spot, either; a massive, swollen blister of land jutting up in the center of the swampy mess, encrusted in moss and muck and beds of fungus. Always there was an eerie chill that hung about the home of the Witch, a creature of legend, and to her, Mother. Even in her absence, the Dowager’s presence ever lingers.

She finds her way within its myriad halls well-enough, and little had changed since she had last stepped foot here. “Hm,” she speaks aloud, keenly aware of her relative isolation, though the ghosts of poor victims long-passed still roam the halls, wailing their sad, distant songs in desperate cries to be freed of their eternal purgatory. Shoat ignores them as she trots along, and finally she comes to a small chamber on the east side of the Mount of Forgotten Seeds. Dug out by her own hands, she smiles fondly at the claw marks still raked into the petrified muck.

“I have to make a sacrifice,” she says softly, crossing the tiny room. The bed, a small affair crammed up against the wall, is dressed in lovely lace duvets and warm down blankets. Beside it, her quarry, and trunk at the foot of the bed, bamboo-woven and polished, despite its obvious age. “And you’ve always been here when I needed you. I just need you one last time.” She speaks to the darkness of the room, as she strikes a match and lights the picket on the small bedside table, pulling the trunk out and throwing open the heavy lid.

Within lay a small number of surprising trinkets, nestled on a bed of pale lilac satin. A tarnished necklace, the hilt of a wooden sword, a lock of black hair. But none of these she takes, and after a moment of searching, she locates the object she seeks: a small rattle. The core of the rattle is metal, but nothing familiar to any blacksmith in the world above. It shifts and sighs and moans, its coloration shifting like the surface of a lake, faces swimming in and out of view upon the surface. They weep, as she holds the tiny rattle in her hand. Its handle composed of polished bone, around the bulb wraps a pair of mismatched, bone-white horns.

“One last time, mama, papa. Then you can rest.”

It had been so quiet for some time--the voices still remained from the artifact, but... the particular whispers, of those who referred to themselves as 'we' and 'us’... now those, she had not heard in some time since Rejoicing. It would take little time, but the message was clear, and it left Rosaline sitting in her study, staring at the wall and thinking upon what had been asked of her. Vibrant blue hues searching the red walls for answers... and of course, it was there where she found them. That which I love? She thought on Aiza, a young White Mage she had grown quite close to over the years... but she was only a means to an end. Power? Now why would she do that? No. The answer indeed was within the walls. Her pupils. Her legacy. Blue eyes turned to the door of her study, and she pursed her lips, considering for perhaps only a moment longer before rising from her plush chair. Warping the space around her desk, she transported valuable objects to another destination, using a much more complicated form of Displacement. Sighing softly, she moved for the door. "Alexander? Gin?" She called, descending the stairs, pulling her robes around herself, and pushing her shoulders up to bury her face into the fur. ( This is an actual Roleplay completed, ahead of the Read More there is mention of death and incineration, readers beware. )