Post by Namor on May 9, 2017 3:51:15 GMT
Namor sank through the floor and into the earth, down through thousands of yards of sediment. His form and thoughts stretched as he drew further and further away. Further from what? His own voice echoed through eternity before it finally processed. The furthest trails of him that still yet lingered on the physical plane bolstered him back, clawing against some force far too magnetic to simply be gravity. And when he was at last back where he started he caught a glimpse of himself. His corpse.
Space warped as he understood it. As his consciousness snapped into sudden revelation, his perceptions too snapped until he found himself on the drowned banks of a marsh. Soft, wet earth sprouted wild tufts of tall grass which billowed gently with a silent breeze. Beyond that, gentle, rolling hills of moss, grass and rock with occasional spit of tree until at last the trees became beyond number. And climbing into the sky at the furthest edge of any horizon were treacherous mountains whose scale could only be called Cyclopean.
Turning back toward the bank, he suddenly came face to face with an old man. His skin was sunkissed and weathered, his beard white with smoky streaks of intermittent black. His orange eyes peered out like smoldering coals from behind a protrusive brow. Giving Namor a narrow-eyed glance and a soft snort that flared the large nostrils of his hookish nose, the withered and wiry old man at last spoke. His voice was low, harsh and slightly garbled.
"Right. Elysium for you."
Namor swiftly fell to one knee in acknowledgement of his God and kept his gaze toward the bank. His mind was a cacophony of anguish and rancor that made even reverence to his deities difficult. His knuckles tightened where his fist was braced against his thigh as he held fast to what patience he could muster, all the while he voiced what he knew to be an audacious request.
"My Lord Charon, please, you must delay my passage into Elysium. I've unfinished business on the mortal plane." His words filled the air as silence fell between man and God. Then the old man's gravely voice erupted into sneering, raucous laughter.
"Hardly the first time I've heard that. Either way, dead is dead. I don't care what regard some of the family has for you."
Charon's hand reached out and Namor felt a sort of gravitic pull toward it. The strength of the pull tugged at the edges of his being, and his mind was pulled taut. Every moment was harder to process, but Namor's desperation and fury welled and he pushed hard against the tug. His entirety strained and he felt as though his very essence would rend down the middle, but suddenly he snapped away from the pull.
Darting back up toward the surface, his consciousness rocketed through stone. He moved faster than any speed he'd ever known, his psyche moving through space and puncturing the wall between the living and the dead. Erupting through the earth, he floated in a room with Natalia, Alexander, Clinton and an Egyptian Mutant. Flying to his corpse, he laid inside of his own body and attempted to wear it like a suit. Frayed edges of energy tried to tether into him, but no matter how he tried he could not connect to them again.
Feeling the pull of Charon and Elysium stretch him, Namor abandoned the hope of using his body, figuring that the physical death prevented him from occupying the body. Focusing instead on the mutant next to Natalia, he settled in mutant's body. At first his consciousness spiraled around the native psyche and the two battled for control. The mutant's movements were erratic during this time, his fingertips scraping against his temples.
Then he jerked upright, standing completely straight with his shoulders squared.
"Alexander, let it be known that my will is to see the Empire besiege Egyptia. To avenge our queen, who should be considered queen no more. She is hereby stripped of all her titles and privileges." As much as it pained him to say it, the words needed said. And some part of him was fracturing as he was processing all that happened. But the expression of devastation was absent. Though he loved her with fierce devotion, his love for her was second to his love of his country. And as father and king, it was his priority to protect his heir and his realm. Even if it meant keeping Ilarion from his mother.
"And until such a time as she can satisfy Regent Dorma, she will not touch my son."
Turning to look at Natalia, he stared at her with a conflicted expression.
"I love you." Looking to Alexander, he offered a faint smile. "Both of you."
At that moment, the pull of death became too much to overcome and he was dragged back down through the earth, across dimensions until he was back at the River Styx. Charon's vermillion eyes flashed and he balled his hand into a fist, striking Namor hard across the cheekbone. Spilling across the soft bank, Namor's spectral fingertips traced over his cheekbone and his expression darkened. The rage and trauma of his experience came to a head and he swung hard at the deity. His fist passed through Charon's face and the god snorted mockingly.
"That's not gonna happen again. Get your ass on the ferry, I don't got all day to be shepherding around self important mermen."
Space warped as he understood it. As his consciousness snapped into sudden revelation, his perceptions too snapped until he found himself on the drowned banks of a marsh. Soft, wet earth sprouted wild tufts of tall grass which billowed gently with a silent breeze. Beyond that, gentle, rolling hills of moss, grass and rock with occasional spit of tree until at last the trees became beyond number. And climbing into the sky at the furthest edge of any horizon were treacherous mountains whose scale could only be called Cyclopean.
Turning back toward the bank, he suddenly came face to face with an old man. His skin was sunkissed and weathered, his beard white with smoky streaks of intermittent black. His orange eyes peered out like smoldering coals from behind a protrusive brow. Giving Namor a narrow-eyed glance and a soft snort that flared the large nostrils of his hookish nose, the withered and wiry old man at last spoke. His voice was low, harsh and slightly garbled.
"Right. Elysium for you."
Namor swiftly fell to one knee in acknowledgement of his God and kept his gaze toward the bank. His mind was a cacophony of anguish and rancor that made even reverence to his deities difficult. His knuckles tightened where his fist was braced against his thigh as he held fast to what patience he could muster, all the while he voiced what he knew to be an audacious request.
"My Lord Charon, please, you must delay my passage into Elysium. I've unfinished business on the mortal plane." His words filled the air as silence fell between man and God. Then the old man's gravely voice erupted into sneering, raucous laughter.
"Hardly the first time I've heard that. Either way, dead is dead. I don't care what regard some of the family has for you."
Charon's hand reached out and Namor felt a sort of gravitic pull toward it. The strength of the pull tugged at the edges of his being, and his mind was pulled taut. Every moment was harder to process, but Namor's desperation and fury welled and he pushed hard against the tug. His entirety strained and he felt as though his very essence would rend down the middle, but suddenly he snapped away from the pull.
Darting back up toward the surface, his consciousness rocketed through stone. He moved faster than any speed he'd ever known, his psyche moving through space and puncturing the wall between the living and the dead. Erupting through the earth, he floated in a room with Natalia, Alexander, Clinton and an Egyptian Mutant. Flying to his corpse, he laid inside of his own body and attempted to wear it like a suit. Frayed edges of energy tried to tether into him, but no matter how he tried he could not connect to them again.
Feeling the pull of Charon and Elysium stretch him, Namor abandoned the hope of using his body, figuring that the physical death prevented him from occupying the body. Focusing instead on the mutant next to Natalia, he settled in mutant's body. At first his consciousness spiraled around the native psyche and the two battled for control. The mutant's movements were erratic during this time, his fingertips scraping against his temples.
Then he jerked upright, standing completely straight with his shoulders squared.
"Alexander, let it be known that my will is to see the Empire besiege Egyptia. To avenge our queen, who should be considered queen no more. She is hereby stripped of all her titles and privileges." As much as it pained him to say it, the words needed said. And some part of him was fracturing as he was processing all that happened. But the expression of devastation was absent. Though he loved her with fierce devotion, his love for her was second to his love of his country. And as father and king, it was his priority to protect his heir and his realm. Even if it meant keeping Ilarion from his mother.
"And until such a time as she can satisfy Regent Dorma, she will not touch my son."
Turning to look at Natalia, he stared at her with a conflicted expression.
"I love you." Looking to Alexander, he offered a faint smile. "Both of you."
At that moment, the pull of death became too much to overcome and he was dragged back down through the earth, across dimensions until he was back at the River Styx. Charon's vermillion eyes flashed and he balled his hand into a fist, striking Namor hard across the cheekbone. Spilling across the soft bank, Namor's spectral fingertips traced over his cheekbone and his expression darkened. The rage and trauma of his experience came to a head and he swung hard at the deity. His fist passed through Charon's face and the god snorted mockingly.
"That's not gonna happen again. Get your ass on the ferry, I don't got all day to be shepherding around self important mermen."
