And last and hopefully not least it gets passed to me, I cut my finger and drip the blood into the cup and pass it back to Q for the circle of drinking to begin. Nimbus after Nimbus is let loose but I'm focused on the small cut on my finger, my mind wandering back to the foundation of my last Cabal, how young we were and how quickly we were forced to grow up. I see them, their faces as clear as if they were in the room now, on the night we took possession of our Sanctum, unburdened by the events of the future. I see those same hopes and innocence reflected in the faces of those around me tonight, in the passion and fire of Q, in the quiet determination of Ahriman, in the reserved calmness of Augustin, in the wonder and excitement of Mike and in the beauty and light of Lux.
Can I do it again? Care about others so deeply and allow their victories and defeats to become my own? Do I have it in me to work with them, fight alongside them, die for them or even watch them die for me? A voice in the back of my head screams to get out, to leave, to be become a rock, an island. Fortify a heart of stone, keep the world away from me and never allow myself to be hurt again. Never lose again.
The cup reaches me and for half a second I want to set it down and leave. To run. Take the easy way out of things.
Fuck that noise.
I care for them. I think I might love one of them. I believe their cause is the same as my own.
They'll need me. One day they'll need me because things get dark and sometimes the night threatens to put out even the brightest light and even the most stalwart defenders of the Truth can lose hope. They'll need someone whose been beaten down before and managed to get up, they'll need someone who understands that sometimes when things get rough all you can do is stand firm and hold the line with everything you have. Someone too proud and stubborn to go down easily.
I care for them. So I stay. So I drink.
My own Nimbus flares. The room increases in temperature, a bead of sweat traces a line down my forehead and lands on my hand. The smell of fresh leather tingles my nostrils and those of the others in the room. Anyone looking at me will see that my shadow has almost taken a form of it's own, appearing it was could best be described as 3D, a dark reflection of my own inner being.
I drink and I set the cup down on a table in front of me, my knowledge of Space making me keep an eye on it in order to make sure that what is left inside will be disposed of in the proper manner.
"Well for a gift, I highly doubt that Hallmark has a line of "Thanks for Letting Us Have An Orgy at Your Place" cards so we're going to have to think about this one."
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