Writing just gets away from you, and what you plan on being a two-part scene becomes the first part from two separate angles and a love letter inserted into the middle of the whole thing. Eventually I will get to the end of this, which is meant to just be backstory for a D&D character, but not quite yet.
With any luck this will be concluded one day, but until then I hope you enjoy the ride! I really do quite like the character I'm trying to put together here, and ideally I'm relaying the image in my head well enough that you can appreciate them too, as well as the supporting cast and setting which I play very loosely with.
Have yourself a lovely day, see you when I have something else to say, and enjoy!
Tarron Gislow by Mac Clevinger, December 18, 2017
Bailes Maina stood amidst the debris of the heretic’s lab, his hand grasping a torch that illuminated the night-time scene of their search. The heft of it and its guttering flames were comforting, the potential for cleansing the world with fire as far away as dropping the torch and letting the block burn again.
It reminded Bailes of himself. The flame had always been there, but he’d never set anything alight, had been greedy with his own potential. He wouldn’t let that happen again, even if he had to attend and lead every burning of a heretic’s home to show the commoners how easy it was to trim the unsightly growths that his predecessors had let run wild.
“Just give me a body, she had to have been in here” he muttered under his breath, pacing in a small circle of a few feet while a dozen or so men searched through the collapsed and burnt wood interspersed with deformed, monstrous shapes of metal. His torch warped the scene around himself with every twitch of the flame, a flattened brass ball taking on a demon’s countenance before hiding again the moment Bailes looked closer.