19 September 2011

Merlin 2:18 The Liminal Passage

Merlin 2:18 “The Liminal Passage”

The omniscient calm of a dying firestorm, the apostle in triumph stands not but faint and falls without restraint. The innocent woman and her children watched Merlin fall among his coadjutors, his face aged more than the moments sacrificed in remonstrance. Troy is now pale and white in the distance, his skin clouted with the magic of the phoenix was at closer examination deep enough to forge a porcelain heart. His renitence to the flame’s deluge made him restive in the place, unable to palliate the scene he reaches into his skein of armor and pulls a large potion and tosses it to the ground near Merlin.

Merlin: “What is it?”
Troy: “I think Scotch-Mead”

Merlin tore the cork from the bottle for an insouciant drink, bittersweet he drank for his life. Nickolas stands over the wilted body of the scarecrow demon alongside Ana, with Troy pacing toward them. The phoenix watched his pilot walk between the victims and the incipient fire, the garrulous fickle-natured thoughts scowl predatorily, but at sight of his destination the holy bird began frolicking in the ashes, chasing embers and rooting in soot.

Troy: “Yet of whom did ask my subtle grace?”
Nickolas: “Perhaps indeed besotted druthers forsooth to mention.”
Troy: “Unleashed and unparalleled.”
Ana: “Hast ere anent thee comrades?”
Nickolas: “Nay, though surely Merlin has, will he be well love?”

Ana looks and courteously contrite ignores Merlin, whose gasps and convulsions have become a dire sleep.

Ana: “He’ll be well by the looks of it…where did you get that potion ivory?”
Troy: “...A barterer in the night had a case of them, the owner ran when I stood in his path so I helped myself.”
Celia: “What the fuck was that thing!”
Ana: “’Twas a demon madam.”
Celia: “Ye may halt channeling demons.”
Troy: “End touting how brilliant ye believe to be & commence learning the nature of thy manky hone fears.”

White and ever wise Troy offers his hand to the lady, noticing that her son has been wounded he picks the boy up in his arms and begins carrying him to his farmhouse with the mother and her daughter soon behind them. He shouts averring to his compatriots without averting focus.

Troy: “Nickolas, there is more to drink it you can fetch it from the avian.”
Ana: “Take for Merlin first Nick.”

There was a small but bonding moment of averseness between him and the great bird, but the contumacious standstill reveals a bethel of three additional bottles, of which he drew two and moved to his lady, trying to underact his perspicacious motives. As a loving embrace ensues he thoughtlessly mentions to her.

Nickolas: “I was over the moon when I saw thee angel, how hell awaits its fall for thyself.”
Ana: “You’re filthy, we should recourse the river, slake our thirsts.”
Nickolas: “Merlin…my good man, we’re off to the river to see how godly cleanliness is.”

With inscrutable ingress he approaches Merlin who is in calenture, wherewithal egresses retrocede does furtive passions to the cool of even.