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AND HIS FLAME DIED OUT [PK]


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A pirate Captain raises a parting glass in silence, a grin upon his features as he remembers the man he met. Not much was shared between them, yet he got to know him well enough. “…We didn’t share a drink in this world… but we shall in the next.”

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Hogo Bojo II would welcome his son into the Seven Skies. "Far too soon my son, far too soon. Although, I am glad to see you again at long last."

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"Curse it all." An aged voice hissed through gritted teeth as she heard of the death of a kinsman she had never really known. "Gone too young, but you fly with the Titan now."

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Somewhere, he was screaming in a dirtied hotel room, eyes shakily scanning the wooden ceiling of his rented place with horror. 

"Why do you take them? The good, the loyal. You leave snakes in the grass and butcher the Gardener, oh jainkoa. How awful can you be?"

He tilted the bottle back toward his lips, drowning the consuming sorrows of another lost.

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Hannes poured out one last drink for an old buddy onto the soil, and taking one glass of whisky for himself to say goodbye to the loyal man-at-arms. "Rest well, Shield-Brother."

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Somewhere, a Nephilim took the day to mourn the passing of a brother.  

 

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"I want you to have this. It's a good luck charm, and it'll keep you safe. When you're older, you can give it back to me and tell me who you became, and all the things you did."

 

A coin is flipped in the cold Northern air, threatened only by the howling wind from the snowscape. It lands not on it's Head or it's Tail, but rather on the ribbed edge of the metal, caught in the cobble - undecided, and unwavering in its indecisiveness. An unequivocally near-impossible toss. A Cursed Child picked it up, staring at the faces of both man and woman for a moment before holding it close to her heart - eyes squeezed shut in silent prayer as the sizzle of flesh, dying coughs, and burning brick echoed in her ear.

 

"..Ea hope vyr safe.. and doing well. Ea canniet wait to go on another adventure."

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A few days after Tony's execution and Ottilie Franziska finally had built up the courage to walk again freely in her own courtyard. She stood there for a moment, staring at the log that still lay, ichor flaked upon its surface. She did not know who he was, or what he had become, but the Castile girl knew that the blood shed on her family's grounds had it coming. For her grandfather's sake, she tried to remind herself. Yet, a part of her mourned for the loss of the Azdrazi out of her own sympathy.

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"White it comes,

Sometimes, soft as a cloud

Sometimes, slow and groaning,

Sometimes, with the song of iron,

But it always comes.

Our final lover,

Whether great, 

Whether small,

It sleeps with all men, 

The whor-e that is death."

 

The robed thing sang to the many bells of its room, and they chimed gently so. A head lowered, and the creature counted the lost. And though it mourned, it smiled - smiled for the simple fact of the tragedy.

 

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Antonio ‘Alto’ de Murat, son of Treble the Patriot, nephew of Tony Romano and Klaus de Muratwould sit in the northern keep as the courier told him of his guardians death. The boy would began to tear up, realizing the last of his family had been forcefully torn from this world for their belief once more. As he looked around, he saw mementos of his family, the last of their kind sitting there, painfully alive. “I’ll find Justice for you someday, for all of you.” He’d quietly look at the paintings of the fallen trio of brothers, his eyes filled with rage.

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The Nephilim's chest would cave, his eyes would weep flames of sorrow as he fell to the ground. He looked upwards at the sky as he felt waves of agony consume his body - a life has been taken from him - death became one of his brood.

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I remember.. that boy in Norland, who said he could do magic, yes?

 

He tossed a stone into the ocean.

 

Wonder if he really could.

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Once, Tony was a student of an old Druid. An eager to learn one, at that. 

She knew his skills would come in use, as they sat within the gardens of Balian. 

"Tony, show me how to do a surgical stitch using an orange as skin." 

He learned in under five minutes, his hands quick. 

The Sister sat impressed, a smile coming upon her scarred lips. 

"Sister Reindeer, when will be the next lesson?"

"Soon. You can save lives, Tony." 

 

That night, he did. His skills came to use. 

 

The Sister who knew Tony for his pride and understanding of her kin finally fell. The place they met took him by it's bloodied hands. A rare hatred, for her. 

 

Tony treated her kindly, and always listened to her little spouts. He protected her when she felt trapped and surrounded by people who didn't understand her kin, and didn't take the time to learn. 

 

She didn't know anything about his past or religious beliefs, anything of his magic use. The Sister just considered him a friend. 

By word of mouth, she learned he was dead. She couldn't help but break down into tears learning yet another one of her friends were gone; it always seemed the second she met them, they were gone.

 

Sister Reindeer refused to speak to anyone for those few days, and trapped herself in the forest. She let herself mourn, pleading to the Aspects that he got home safe, and in his family's arms. 

 

 

 

 

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Olivia Ash searches for Tony from wherever she is, hoping to reunite with an old lover. Hoping to see another coin trick. Hoping to play another game of heads or tails.

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