Post by Marcel Chevalier on Mar 23, 2012 22:15:57 GMT 1
Marcel glimpsed the pain in Hoyt's eyes before he turned away. He should not have laughed without explaining, it had been thoughtless of him and Hoyt had taken it as a criticism. His child had hovered for two centuries on the brink of losing his maker. Marcel could not even begin to imagine what that pain must have been like. He had no maker and had never known that loss, but he had seen it again and again in others, the madness that would take a hold of the distraught child. It was a testament to Hoyt's stubborn strength that he had maintained his sanity and purpose at all. Marcel was aghast that he had not shown more sensitivity. “My beautiful Hoyt... “ he murmured softly, pained and embarrassed by what he had done.
Anger flared in Marcel's heart as Hoyt spoke of his pain and how he had been mocked for it. Marcel's passions did not often run to anger but that small flame he guarded covetously now, a spark of rage for when he needed it. He had scattered the broken bodies of those who had dared raise a hand to his beloved child and he would do so again should he feel the need. For a moment Marcel indulged his thoughts of retribution before containing his anger once again. There would be time aplenty later for those who had doubted his Hoyt to regret their error.
Marcel was still struggling to adjust to the time that had passed him by. Safe here, surrounded by all that was familiar and beside his child, it was difficult to imagine that centuries had passed, yet he had not even for a moment doubted Hoyt's words to him. For Marcel it had been no more than a long sleep, a bad dream, only the weakness in his limbs betraying the extent of his incapacity, but for Hoyt... two hundred lonely years. Would he ever be able to love Hoyt long enough and deeply enough to make him forget that suffering? Marcel desperately hoped so...
He listened avidly as Hoyt spoke of his encounters with the angel Michael, and he resisted the urge to chuckle again that his child could find a park stranger to describe than a casual conversation with an archangel... It was all so strange to adjust to and he was glad for the homely surroundings to steady himself for now. He clung to his faith in Hoyt that he was not still dreaming or losing his own mind. It was a relief to Marcel when the spark of enthusiasm reappeared in Hoyt's eyes as his story drew to a close and he rose to his feet to retrieve and prepare his 'prize'. Angel's blood. Marcel gave Hoyt a thoughtful look. “I remember... a taste... like nothing ever before...” he murmured curiously.
He accepted the bag of blood from Hoyt but took his hand also and did not let go. He must make things right with his child. “Hoyt, my golden cowboy, my beloved child, you are more precious to me than anything else in this world and I could not ever doubt or fault you. You who have always been my sunlight...” He tugged at Hoyt's hand a little to encourage him to move closer. “Who else save our King himself could tell me of such arcane marvels and leave me, not in angry disbelief but speechless in joy and wonder? You fill me with such pride and joy that I must laugh or burst.”
Marcel did not take his eyes from Hoyt's face as he continued to speak. “I am astounded Hoyt, by all you have done for me, by all you have achieved. These things that you have seen and done are so far beyond my wildest hopes or dreams. You have amazed me Hoyt... and in so many ways. I shall never leave you alone again, I promise.” He squeezed Hoyt's hand gently and smiled. “Now I shall drink and you shall fret no more for me.” Marcel raised the bag to taste from it, sipping cautiously having been warned of the potency, and still the power rushed through him like an incoming tide.
Anger flared in Marcel's heart as Hoyt spoke of his pain and how he had been mocked for it. Marcel's passions did not often run to anger but that small flame he guarded covetously now, a spark of rage for when he needed it. He had scattered the broken bodies of those who had dared raise a hand to his beloved child and he would do so again should he feel the need. For a moment Marcel indulged his thoughts of retribution before containing his anger once again. There would be time aplenty later for those who had doubted his Hoyt to regret their error.
Marcel was still struggling to adjust to the time that had passed him by. Safe here, surrounded by all that was familiar and beside his child, it was difficult to imagine that centuries had passed, yet he had not even for a moment doubted Hoyt's words to him. For Marcel it had been no more than a long sleep, a bad dream, only the weakness in his limbs betraying the extent of his incapacity, but for Hoyt... two hundred lonely years. Would he ever be able to love Hoyt long enough and deeply enough to make him forget that suffering? Marcel desperately hoped so...
He listened avidly as Hoyt spoke of his encounters with the angel Michael, and he resisted the urge to chuckle again that his child could find a park stranger to describe than a casual conversation with an archangel... It was all so strange to adjust to and he was glad for the homely surroundings to steady himself for now. He clung to his faith in Hoyt that he was not still dreaming or losing his own mind. It was a relief to Marcel when the spark of enthusiasm reappeared in Hoyt's eyes as his story drew to a close and he rose to his feet to retrieve and prepare his 'prize'. Angel's blood. Marcel gave Hoyt a thoughtful look. “I remember... a taste... like nothing ever before...” he murmured curiously.
He accepted the bag of blood from Hoyt but took his hand also and did not let go. He must make things right with his child. “Hoyt, my golden cowboy, my beloved child, you are more precious to me than anything else in this world and I could not ever doubt or fault you. You who have always been my sunlight...” He tugged at Hoyt's hand a little to encourage him to move closer. “Who else save our King himself could tell me of such arcane marvels and leave me, not in angry disbelief but speechless in joy and wonder? You fill me with such pride and joy that I must laugh or burst.”
Marcel did not take his eyes from Hoyt's face as he continued to speak. “I am astounded Hoyt, by all you have done for me, by all you have achieved. These things that you have seen and done are so far beyond my wildest hopes or dreams. You have amazed me Hoyt... and in so many ways. I shall never leave you alone again, I promise.” He squeezed Hoyt's hand gently and smiled. “Now I shall drink and you shall fret no more for me.” Marcel raised the bag to taste from it, sipping cautiously having been warned of the potency, and still the power rushed through him like an incoming tide.