Prayer to Malchediael

[ChainedDragons 1374]

[Note this is a response to a fellow players character death - and since there will be no PK post from them, I wanted to still commemorate a post to their characters memory in my own way. Varaegon was such a fun character to interact with and he will be missed]

Spoiler

 

Bron had known his god father was going to die. Varaegon had told him himself that his days were growing short. And yet... the news reaching his aviary made him feel weak. Varaegon was gone. No last goodbye. No last verbal spar. No final message of wisdom that the templar could have left the devil. 

Quietly Bron left Tir'glas, the informing letter still clutched between his metal fingers. He remembered the day they met. Bron but a small child that barely came up to Varaegon's knee. Despite his teachings, the templar had treated him with kindness. The devil's hooves crunch through dead leaf litter along the path that led away from Tir'glas's gates. He walked for a ways, taking a step off the road and into the forest. One of the first gifts Varaegon ever gave Bron was his protection. When he was at the mercy of the Chapter masters blade within Idunia's church, it was Varaegon who came and whisked him out of harms way.

The squire moved tree branches out of the way, pushing his way to a clearing where a lone tree stood. Its leaves scarlet with winters cold. He approached the tree, taking a seat at the base. Resting his head back against it Bron felt the tips of his great horns scratch into the bark. 

 

"...never did ea expect to 'pray' or.. talk to vy of all beings. But... perhaps somehow vy will hear ea. Though the more cynical side of ea wishes to doubt it." Bron spoke softly, wind rustling through the grass near him in  hushed whispers. 

"Malchediael... treat him well. Varaegon lived to follow vyr guidance, vyr teachings. He wasn't a perfect many by any means. Nyie mortal is. To expect such of us is to be frank, folly. Mortals are niet perfect. We are flawed. But that's how we were made nyie? To stumble. To fall. To learn. To hopefully rise back up to the challenge put before ourselves to become something better?" 
The devil's tail curled around his hooves as he looked at the letter in hand. 

"Surely... as an anguel.. that fell to his own rage vy understand that beings change over time.. for better or worse."
Bron allows the wind to snatch the letter from his grasp, carrying it out to the waters beyond the clearing.

"Malchediael.. all ea ask is that vy keep Varaegon's soul safe. He will serve vy well as he did in life. Ea know he will. Ea know eam words mean little to vy but if Varaegon revered vy so, like many others, surely.. surely there is good enough reason for it."

 

Bron bows his head, shaking as he let streaks of tears fall from his face. Surely if Malchediael is as right and just as Varaegon believed, then Varaegon would indeed find himself at his patrons side. It's all that the devil could hope for. He remained in that spot for many hours, mourning the loss of yet another person he had grown to love so much.

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