Post by wordy on Aug 31, 2009 16:17:46 GMT 10
Title: A Different Kind of Power
Rating: G
Prompt: Magic, #10
Summary: Thom comes to terms with what he had - or hadn't - done.
His hand was trembling with the effort, the power he was exuding was phenomenal. Yet as much as he tried, no matter how many nights he secretly lit his candle after checking that the Eldorne girl was fast asleep in her chambers, it was so difficult to stop trying and just accept it: the dead bird was going to stay that way.
Delia praised him constantly for the amazing feat he had performed, even the Tirragen knight acknowledged that he was a force to be reckoned with. Still, Thom felt something was not right.
He found his eyes being drawn to the newly resurrected Duke every time he entered a room, observing the way he moved, who he talked to, searching for any possible sign that he retained even a drop of his Gift. After many weeks, Thom gave up.
There was no evidence, no clues. Something was going on and he knew when people were keeping things from him (that he had learned from living in the Mithran Cloisters).
Yet he couldn’t stop; one more time, he told himself. As he closed his eyes, hand outstretched over the corpse of the bird, his mind ran rampant with ideas of evil plots and secret meetings. Roger was not what he seemed, it was blatantly obvious.
And Thom could not raise the dead.
Rating: G
Prompt: Magic, #10
Summary: Thom comes to terms with what he had - or hadn't - done.
His hand was trembling with the effort, the power he was exuding was phenomenal. Yet as much as he tried, no matter how many nights he secretly lit his candle after checking that the Eldorne girl was fast asleep in her chambers, it was so difficult to stop trying and just accept it: the dead bird was going to stay that way.
Delia praised him constantly for the amazing feat he had performed, even the Tirragen knight acknowledged that he was a force to be reckoned with. Still, Thom felt something was not right.
He found his eyes being drawn to the newly resurrected Duke every time he entered a room, observing the way he moved, who he talked to, searching for any possible sign that he retained even a drop of his Gift. After many weeks, Thom gave up.
There was no evidence, no clues. Something was going on and he knew when people were keeping things from him (that he had learned from living in the Mithran Cloisters).
Yet he couldn’t stop; one more time, he told himself. As he closed his eyes, hand outstretched over the corpse of the bird, his mind ran rampant with ideas of evil plots and secret meetings. Roger was not what he seemed, it was blatantly obvious.
And Thom could not raise the dead.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!