Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

nope · (01-12-2021)

The sounds of chattering inmates muffle from either ear from where he sits.

The frustration is enough to break a man, and although this step was necessary to achieve the ends, it was far too premature. Still, adaptability was a trait that he welcome to challenge his resolve, and although it would seem his plot had been thwarted, He had spoken about a great purge that would be necessary after the horseman had arrived.

However, premature. He had considered it would be Geri... a miscalculation on his part, albeit, a difficult admission, nevertheless, when a man is wrong he must come to terms with that wrong so he may learn, and a truly wise man will learn every moment of his life- that day had come for the Baphomet.

Baphomet lifts his eyes, observing the cracks on the concrete walls around him, most likely the inevitability of expansion and contraction of the ever-changing climate. This man-made containment won't be permanent. These metal bars will corrode and their integrity will weaken. Just like anything else on this mortal plane, it will rot, degrade, and return back to the dust from which it was conjured.

The seed had already been planted in XWF as well as the other organizations, but still, Baphomet feels remission of his obligations. And although the plan had been to end up right here, he can't help but feel the failure of not choosing when. Alas, he had been busy, and now, he was free to do what any man deserves- the chance to reflect.

He can't help but mourn for the one he felt betrayed him the most. He had invited her like everyone else, and she had joined with no questions asked. She was his first. He took great pride in her, and although he had guided her towards a new way, he cherished her for what she was... not who he tried to be. This was genuine acceptance... and for her loyalty, he paved a way for her to grow free to evolve, free to alight, and free to become who she was meant to become.

He reflects back to the memory of her naivety but quick temper. He almost smiles at the thought of it, fondly remembering how he felt bothered by how mistreated she was by her peers. She hadn't earned their respect because she simply wasn't anything more than a pretty face- but every time she opened her mouth, it would seem much less attractive. He truly felt sorry for her; the audacity of being yourself! He wondered if she could be molded to become more than what she had begrudgingly accepted as her optimal self.

They all called her Owen. So, instead, I called her my queen. They all called her the lowest, so I propped her up high on a pedestal. They claimed she couldn't win matches, so, I oppressed others to bend the knee. For her, I built her a new image, and instead of the "Best ass in XWF", instead, she would burn her enemies to a crisp as Queen of the Ashes.

Baphomet shakes his head in regret.

She was born anew. She had stoked fear in those who opposed her. She had become someone much different than her peers had dismissed her as, and she had left her mark on Alias, Jenny, Betsy, and anyone else who stood against her because The Baphomet was there to protect her. Lycana was there to protect her. Geri Vayden and Tula and Marf... all one single unit, raising a left hand for each other... but with Baphomet's untimely arrest, the true nature of his children would soon be tested.

Without the chance to prepare, it would seem that Oliver Danielson had infiltrated the XWF a short time ago, and compiled enough evidence to secure a warrant for the Baphomet's arrest. He knew his superior will be disappointed, especially considering the collusion of Oliver with who Baphomet could only assume was Erin Wallace and Tommy Romeo. A setback, yes, but this was God's will! God had provided Baphomet with the opportunity to test his children's own resolve... to test how strong the Left Hand had rooted itself... and to reflect on what it was the Baphomet needed to do next.

But first... reflection.

Such betrayal from one who Baphomet considered like a daughter. The queen... the little girl who raised her left hand before any of them had. Her fiery temper... and her swift anger had benefited her growth into his prized underdog, but she had started a fire too great within herself that could not be controlled! She had let it consume her and with great failure of judgment, she had turned her fire to those who stoked her flames in the first place! Blasphemy!

Baphomet slams each side of the bed he sits on, standing up in a fury, feeling loose as he adjusts to his oversized orange jumpsuit. He grabs the bars with both hands, peering out from his own cell, and hears the muttering of prisoners from all directions beyond.

She had failed him. It was no concern strategically, of course, she was simply a project to him- someone that he considered in need of enlightenment, but not truly the asset role he had assigned to Geri Vayden, for instance. Or Marf and his brutality, or Lycana for her ease of destruction, or even Tula for her drive. No, Ash, she was a nobody before he had adopted her... and as she was given an identity as Queen of the Ashes, without Baphomet and The Left Hand, she is not a queen... but just ash.

Ash in a tray, like the discarded dust of an already used cigar. What true purpose does Ash have now? Like Ash in the wind, she drifts one way, and then another... whichever way the wind blows, a lightweight of dust such as Ash Quinn floats wherever it's easiest, wherever she feels a sense of belonging... and when she abandons that, she drifts along like a feather, no longer needed for the wings to fly, and slowly, and gradually falls gracefully into the rest of the dirt where she was scooped up by The Baphomet, to begin with.

Baphomet pushes himself off of the bars, pacing the four feet of a concrete floor that's provided in either direction.

Baphomet is taken away, and her left-hand drops. Without a string to hold it up, she, once again, has no direction... without someone guiding her hand, she would be wise to simply put it in her pocket, but instead, she is pulled whichever direction allows her to survive, but surviving is easy when you have someone protecting you... The Left Hand had protected Ash Quinn, but now, she's alone- but her hand is not in her pocket, her mouth is not shut... she continues her blasphemy as if his absence is forever! Misguided. The Baphomet hasn't left you yet! Wherever the shadow reaches is where Baphomet can reach the same and the shadows are everywhere, Ash Quinn. The Baphomet is watching and listening to all of your blasphemy.

You dare oppose the Baphomet. You dare expose the left hand's intelligence. You dare form alliances with The Left Hand's enemies, or fail to, is more accurate. To think, Alias would allow someone who branded his hand to stand by his side. To think Jenny Myst would trust you after you threatened to burn down her entire castle. You're alone... and if you think you have allies, it won't save you from the enemies you've created.

Poor Ash Quinn. But why pity her now? She couldn't hold a flame or even conjure it without intervention. Just a bucket of wax with a wick buried beneath the surface... the Baphomet dug it out for you to light it, but the minute he walked away, a light breeze would snuff it. Lycana would attempt striking your flame but was like creating a bonfire underwater. What good is a torch that won't stay lit... how could Ash see through the darkness when her own light was unable to be sustained. An empty box of matches... a clogged pilot... a snow-covered solar panel. They filled your box... They cleansed your orifice... and They removed your hindrances and yet... like a popped fuse, Ash just couldn't produce the energy.

What becomes of Ash? Well... regrettably, nothing positive. It seemed to Baphomet that the potential had run its course for Miss Quinn. Her tank was empty, her fire was suppressed, and like ash in the wind, she would fade away to nothingness as her true destiny would manifest.

Baphomet would use this time wisely to reflect further. He sits back down on the bed, realizing that his former favorite had chosen a new path and that his heartbreak would not unhinge his momentum going forward.

The mission will continue... only now, Ash Quinn would find herself engulfed in the very flames she couldn't create on her own. She would be burned for her blasphemy... she would burn and disintegrate into ironic particles of ash so the Baphomet could huff, and puff, and blow them away.

You disappoint me, he thinks. Shaking his head, for he knows that she had crossed a line that would cost her everything.

Baphomet twists himself, and lays his head on the provided pillow, closing his eyes to further his examination of what has passed, and what will come.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Ashes to ashes
Author	Message