Eeeep! I can't believe I missed the update this long! I&E! Alive! *dances*
Raistlin pulled away, it would be a risk attacking now, with the lich tired, but they would have the element of surprise, and Fistandantilus seemed to be quite confident he could win. Beside, now that he was so close, so very close to finally being free, the thought of remaining with the lich in his mind for a moment longer than necessary was repellent. Do it now. Kill it now. End it now. Finally.
*cheers*
They barely needed magic to pass unseen through the crowds of Istar, but even that small drain weakened the barriers further, everything coming into sharper focus, the colours brighter, the details dazzling. Slipping unseen past guards in the baroque armour of a nation that hadn't seen true war in centuries. Past flamboyant courtiers who shuddered and pulled up the collars of their fine robes instinctively in their wake. Through a palace so beautiful that Raistlin wondered what it would look like once he was free, even behind the wall it was overwhelming, it would be blinding if seen with bare eyes.
That's a great establishing shot of Istar -- short, but saying all that's necessary.
Raistlin wondered if it was his heart beating so loudly, or just the memory of what being nervous felt like. It wasn't fear. Raistlin wondered if he was even capable of fear any more. It was more of a sensation of being suspended, where the slightest error would send him tumbling to oblivion, as though the entire world were holding its breath, and not just the collected thoughts of Fistandantilus and Raistlin Majere.
*loves*
And nothing would ever have prepared Raistlin for hearing that voice again, ringing staccato in his mind in a million echoes. Even the lich clawing at his mind was momentarily stunned. Then the dark mage came into view. This time, Raistlin was sure the world stopped. Had the Cataclysm happened at that moment, the very burning mountain would have paused above Istar, to witness what happened next. Through stolen eyes, the two liches stared at each other. Fistandantilus' mind writhed, unable to cope with the simple knowledge that he was standing here yet at the same time over there.
*shivers*
Raistlin allowed himself a scream of triumph. The lich had lost. Even if the other Fistandantilus were to win this, and kill them both, he would still have lost, trapping the other lich in an endless loop where he would always progress along the same path, and go back in time and die. No matter who won this battle, he would die. Fistandantilus didn't even notice, every part of him so bent on destroying his other self, this thing that should not be, that every wall feel as though it had never been. Raistlin's senses came back with a snap, the gloom of the room, the crash and howl of the spells, the smell of damp and decay and magic, the feeling of the arcane energy flowing through him - and oh, how he had missed that! - the taste of his own blood where the lich had gnawed on his lip hard enough to split the skin. It was almost overwhelming, and he couldn't let it be. Raistlin focuses and hurled his own power into the battle, add strength to every spell and incantation. Both liches were so maddened by the sight of each other they barely noticed. Pouring energy freely into every motion: come on! Come on! We can win this we can win this! Fistandantilus' plan might be in ruins, but Raistlin was determined to come out of this alive, alive and victorious!
no subject
Raistlin pulled away, it would be a risk attacking now, with the lich tired, but they would have the element of surprise, and Fistandantilus seemed to be quite confident he could win. Beside, now that he was so close, so very close to finally being free, the thought of remaining with the lich in his mind for a moment longer than necessary was repellent. Do it now. Kill it now. End it now. Finally.
*cheers*
They barely needed magic to pass unseen through the crowds of Istar, but even that small drain weakened the barriers further, everything coming into sharper focus, the colours brighter, the details dazzling. Slipping unseen past guards in the baroque armour of a nation that hadn't seen true war in centuries. Past flamboyant courtiers who shuddered and pulled up the collars of their fine robes instinctively in their wake. Through a palace so beautiful that Raistlin wondered what it would look like once he was free, even behind the wall it was overwhelming, it would be blinding if seen with bare eyes.
That's a great establishing shot of Istar -- short, but saying all that's necessary.
Raistlin wondered if it was his heart beating so loudly, or just the memory of what being nervous felt like. It wasn't fear. Raistlin wondered if he was even capable of fear any more. It was more of a sensation of being suspended, where the slightest error would send him tumbling to oblivion, as though the entire world were holding its breath, and not just the collected thoughts of Fistandantilus and Raistlin Majere.
*loves*
And nothing would ever have prepared Raistlin for hearing that voice again, ringing staccato in his mind in a million echoes. Even the lich clawing at his mind was momentarily stunned. Then the dark mage came into view.
This time, Raistlin was sure the world stopped. Had the Cataclysm happened at that moment, the very burning mountain would have paused above Istar, to witness what happened next. Through stolen eyes, the two liches stared at each other. Fistandantilus' mind writhed, unable to cope with the simple knowledge that he was standing here yet at the same time over there.
*shivers*
Raistlin allowed himself a scream of triumph. The lich had lost. Even if the other Fistandantilus were to win this, and kill them both, he would still have lost, trapping the other lich in an endless loop where he would always progress along the same path, and go back in time and die. No matter who won this battle, he would die.
Fistandantilus didn't even notice, every part of him so bent on destroying his other self, this thing that should not be, that every wall feel as though it had never been. Raistlin's senses came back with a snap, the gloom of the room, the crash and howl of the spells, the smell of damp and decay and magic, the feeling of the arcane energy flowing through him - and oh, how he had missed that! - the taste of his own blood where the lich had gnawed on his lip hard enough to split the skin.
It was almost overwhelming, and he couldn't let it be. Raistlin focuses and hurled his own power into the battle, add strength to every spell and incantation. Both liches were so maddened by the sight of each other they barely noticed. Pouring energy freely into every motion: come on! Come on! We can win this we can win this! Fistandantilus' plan might be in ruins, but Raistlin was determined to come out of this alive, alive and victorious!
*cheers for the triumphant moment*