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Private offer me that deathless death

Discussion in 'Threads of Time' started by Ambrose Spellman, Sep 3, 2019.

  1. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    DATE: August 2
    TAG: @Michael Langdon
    [​IMG]
    Death was lonely. For some reason, Ambrose thought there might be black. Nothingness. And in some ways, there was. He felt nothing, which ... maybe that was better than sadness or rage or grief. Maybe that was sad than all of the five hundred other alternatives there were, but he didn't know. Despite who he was and what he could, despite his specialties in necromancy, Ambrose had never spoken with the dead about their time being, well ... dead.

    If he hadn't come to Pandora, would things have been different? He didn't regret Pandora by any means, but if he had taken steps away from Schola Praeditos, if he hadn't associated so much with Ozpin, if he hadn't relied on him so much in the beginning and if he hadn't come to look up to him as much as he had, then maybe things would have been different. If he had gone his own way. But there he was, thinking he had done just that. He needed people in his life. He was social, he craved being surrounded by others, especially after seventy-five years under house arrest. Now, though? Now he was alone in this nothingness, ever moving as though the pitch black around him might change, might brighten and give him hope.

    Ambrose had never feared the dark before. He was a creature of the dark, and yet here he was, wishing for the sun more than ever before. Or even just another person. Or a beating heart. So he walked and he walked, and he didn't know for how long. Minutes. Hours. Days. The blackness never ended, though, and eventually he was on his knees and that numbing feeling was shifting to something else threatening to eat him up alive. Fear. Misery. Nobody knew what had happened. Not a single soul had any idea, and the only ones who might have even a little bit of an inkling were Michael and Sabrina. Sabrina, even less so. He had been cryptic with her.

    He thought he would be okay. He thought he would see her again. He thought he would have the chance to explain when it all blew over, but it never blew over and at that reminder, he opened his mouth and he screamed, slamming a fist into the darkness beneath him and then another and another, but no sound left his mouth despite the strain he thought he could feel. He hadn't been able to hear anything, just a sort of numb, eerie ringing to match the loneliness of this afterlife.
     
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  2. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Ambrose Spellman was dead. There was no question about it. People died in Pandora all the time and sometimes they came straight back and sometimes they were never seen again. That was just the way of things, Michael understood that and for the most part he had very little reason to care one way or the other. However on this occasion Ambrose happened to be someone Michael knew, and more than that, Ambrose was one of the first people he had met in Pandora, certainly the first at Schola. He was one of those rare things Michael had so few of, he was a friend. And he was dead. The thing about being dead was that there were levels of it, you could be dead and come back, you could be dead and lost to all but the most powerful, you could be dead and erased from existence. You could be dead and still roam the location you died in. Levels.

    Michael decided to find out just what kind of dead Ambrose really was. After all if there was any chance of dragging him back, then Michael wanted as many loyal followers by his side as he could for what was to come soon enough. He didn’t care if people died but he cared if those were people he had plans for and Ambrose was certainly one of them (and plans was easier to admit to than friendship). So he settled himself in his bedroom, laid the spell out just as he’d been taught to do and he settled onto the floor. Michael focused on his breathing and cleared his mind, all he had to do was reach out to the soul and use the Witches magic as a kind of catalyst for his own abilities to walk the halls of the dead.

    Descensum.

    There was a calming sensation of falling away from his own body, falling into darkness and nothingness. Until the world felt like it was spinning on its axis, turning him around as he descended into the Otherworld. It was an unfamiliar kind of hell, different to the one in his own world which seemed like an endless hallway of corridors upon corridors that led to each individual afterlife. Here it was just darkness, endless darkness. Sometimes Michael was sure he could hear things rustling in the void. Whatever they were they skittered away from his attention when he turned towards them. They were afraid of him. They weren’t what he was here for. He reached out to locate Ambrose through the murk and found him on his knees, screaming in silence to the void. He was losing his grasp of reality.

    Michael strolled forwards, and though there was no logical up or down to this dark void of an otherworld, Michael made it conform to him. Each step he took became the floor, about two feet behind him and with each forward step he took there was a clear black path, glistening like vinyl despite there being no source of light. He was carving his own footpath through this mire and with each step came the click of his designer soles. The only sound that seemed real.

    Click. Click. Click.

    Michael strolled towards Ambrose’s kneeling form, hands clasped in that comfortably characteristic position behind his back, as though he owned the world and were perfectly comfortable in it. He came to a stop and waited for Ambrose to cease his silent screams patiently.


     
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  3. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    [​IMG]
    Click, click, click.

    His mind didn't register the sound that he was hearing. His mind wasn't registering the fact that there was any sound at all until he had grown tired of his silent screams. Silent screams that would amount to nothing at all. Ambrose was losing his grip on reality and he wasn't even sure if it was a slow or a quick process because there was no concept of time here. No concept of days or hours or anything. Just darkness and loneliness.

    It was only when he began to lift his gaze, Ambrose realized that something had changed. The idea that he was no longer alone seemed far-fetched to him despite the very clear image of a young man standing over him. It wasn't just any young man, though. He would have recognized that head of blonde hair anywhere and yet, somehow, his mind was having trouble admitting it was really Michael Langdon. From where he was knelt there in the dark, he continued to stare up at him, silence lingering between them both. His lips parted, closed again, quivered a bit because he was afraid of the answer to the question he might ask.

    "... Are you really there?" he finally braved, and it was as though he had forgotten in that moment just who Michael Langdon really was and just the sort of power he held over every force around him.
     
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  4. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Michael was as patient as he ever was while he observed Ambrose’s seemingly hopeless attempts at screaming. It was an odd thing because there was no sound here in this place and yet Michael could hear him screaming too, or perhaps Michael could simply hear Ambrose’s own thoughts. Whatever it was there was a strange disorientation of sound in this realm, he didn’t care for it to apply to himself though and so it did not. This darkness held no sway or rule over him.

    When Ambrose finally began to lift his gaze it seemed to take an eternity for him to realise what he was looking at. Michael remained silent, observing him curiously as he stared up at him from his position on the floor. Silence reigned in the void between them and it seemed for a moment like Ambrose was unable to process what he was seeing. Michael almost spoke first but he crushed the urge to give in and simply lifted his chin to an almost arrogant lilt. He was in control of this situation not his emotions. Not this realm. Certainly not Ambrose Spellman either.

    Finally Ambrose spoke and Michael smiled knowingly at him. He could see Ambrose was uncertain that what he was seeing was real and not just part of his death or this hell he was stuck in. Michael stepped forwards and unclasped his hands from behind his back. One of them reached out in an elegant gesture, fingers splaying open as he revealed his hand, palm up, towards Ambrose.

    ”Why don’t you find out?” he invited Ambrose to reach out to him and dropped his bright blue gaze pointedly to his hand and then back to Ambrose, ”Or you can stay here and scream into the void for eternity...or however long a soul lasts in this place...” Michael flashed Ambrose a smile, ”Up to you. Although I doubt your cousin would be very happy if I left you here.” he observed conversationally.



     
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  5. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    [​IMG]
    He looked like Michael. He carried himself like Michael, with his hands clasped behind his back, that knowing look on his face like he had all of the confidence that there was in the world and nothing could ever hope to shake it. And he would have been right if Ambrose hadn't seen before in a state that might be considered vulnerable. That had been a long time ago, though, and all he could wonder now was how he was here. How had he come to this place? Was his power so far reaching? This couldn't have been hell, after all. It had never been described like this. Limbo, maybe, but there were words to describe that as well and there were meant to be other souls floating about. But there were none.

    It was only Ambrose.

    And now Michael. Michael was here, too, and as somebody he considered his friend and his lord all at the same time outstretched his hand toward him and offered him the chance for discovery, a part of him feared what he would discover. Or what he wouldn't. What if he melted away at the top and Ambrose was left alone here once more? What if this was nothing more than a trick of his mind? The way Ambrose's eyes blinked to the side and the way he swallowed thickly made it clear just how much of a struggle this one otherwise simple decision seemed to be in his mind.

    But the answer should have been obvious. Was anything worse than this nothingness? And Sabrina ... he couldn't leave Sabrina there without him. Ambrose knew that. Michael knew that, which was why the subject of his cousin had been brought up at all. So he inhaled deeply and flicked his dark gaze back toward him, reaching almost desperately to clasp his hand around his savior's.
     
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  6. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Michael could feel Ambrose’s fears and worries surrounding his presence, he feared he was nothing but an illusion, he feared that by reaching out he would break the illusion and realise he was still here alone. He feared a trick and Michael found that somewhat flattering that Ambrose would rather allow the illusion to remain even if it meant still being stuck there. He was struggling with the decision, Michael could feel his turmoil, but he gave him the time to make up his own mind and finally Ambrose was looking back to him. Brown eyes met Michael’s calm blue gaze and a hand reached out to finally clasp around his hand.

    Long pale fingers curled around Ambrose’s reaching hand and firmly took hold of him, pulling him to his feet, proving he was perfectly solid and perfectly real in this Underworld that was so unlike his own world. Beneath their feet the floor spread in the darkness, now encompassing what Ambrose stood on too and finally giving this black none-space an up and down and a sense of reality. Michael smiled and reached out his other hand to grip Ambrose’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. ”Good choice.” he confirmed in approval.

    Michael knew this would be an exhausting process for him, Ambrose was dead, this wasn’t merely putting a soul back into a body but putting a body back into the physical realm so he could put the soul into it. He gripped Ambrose tightly, not letting go of his hand and not releasing his grip at Ambrose’s shoulder as he held his gaze. ”This might be distressing for you-” he warned, ”-but try to stay with me. I need to take you back now.” he raised an eyebrow, ”Are you ready?”



     
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  7. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    [​IMG]
    As Michael's fingers snaked around his and clasped firmly against his hand, Ambrose felt himself breathing a little bit more calmly as though it were sinking in that it was really him. Letting him pull him to his feet, the warlock stumbled, but managed to balance himself a moment later with the help of his friend's hand at his shoulder. Dark eyes wide, he lifted his gaze to meet the contrasting calm blue eyes that watched him carefully and confidently. It was everything he wished he could be in that moment, but instead he felt afraid and broken apart and--

    And just a little bit less lonely than he had a few moments before.

    Michael didn't let go of him and, just the same, Ambrose didn't let go of him either. He didn't think he could if he'd had to for any reason and he was just thankful that key instead was holding on tight. "Michael, get me out of here," he breathed, desperation in his voice, his eyes, in everything he could portray in that very moment. Ambrose was a creature of the dark, but he didn't want to be in this darkness for any longer.
     
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  8. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Ambrose’s grasp was firm and reassuringly solid. Whatever despair he’d been losing himself to a moment ago was falling away from him like old cobwebs in the breeze. Who knew what state he might have been in if Michael had been any longer in finding him down here, or how much time really passed in a place like this in Pandora. Whatever it was Michael didn’t care to know because he didn’t want it to influence him, he fully planned on taking them back to only a few moments after he’d left in the first place and he didn’t need asking twice by Ambrose.

    Michael’s magic had never really failed him, it simply bent to his will and occasionally surprised him just how far it could bend. On this occasion though he knew exactly what he was doing, he’d had plenty of practise, or so he’d thought. He focused on returning and sure enough he felt a kind of lift, as though rising out of the darkness, only this time there was the added weight of Ambrose to take with him. Michael tightened his grip and began to bring his soul up with him, at the same time he began to will Ambrose back to life, to force reality to warp to his will and provide a body to accept the soul.

    However as he began to rise out of the darkness he felt something him tug back abruptly back. It was enough to stop him for a second, whatever it was wasn’t attached to him, it was something holding Ambrose down. From out of the darkness below them something black and vine-like was curling upwards and around Ambrose’s ankle. Michael narrowed his eyes at it and something yowled in the darkness as the vines began to crackle and light up like someone had touched a match to it. Michael began to pull Ambrose back to life again…

    ...this time two vine-like tendrils snapped out of the darkness to grasp for his soul. This hadn’t happened before but then again, before he had been walking in his fathers world, this Otherworld did not belong to him. It belonged to someone else, he was stealing Ambrose from it and whatever it was that ruled down here, it didn’t want to let him go. The creature yowled through the void again and though wordless Michael understood it was staking its claim.

    ”He signed his name-” Michael snarled at it, ”-he doesn’t belong to you!” Michael attention snapped back to Ambrose, ”It seems this realm doesn’t want to let you go without a fight.”




     
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  9. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    [​IMG]
    just like that, ambrose was a step more hopeful than he had been before. michael's presence alone was contagious and he carried himself with a sort of confidence that truly made him believe this was the last that he would see of this world of darkness. ten minutes before, he had expected never to see the light again, which felt like such a strange thought either way. he was a creature who had always thrived in the darkness and yet here he was now, wanting something else. the sun. even the moonlight would suffice. he wanted to be able to breathe air again, he wanted his ears to hear the sounds of birds and leaves rustling. anything but this vast nothingness.

    he could feel the shift around him when moments before, he had felt nothing at all. he could feel michael tearing his soul from this plane. it was comfortable, it wasn't natural, it wasn't right, but ambrose was used to the unnatural and he wanted to leave this place so badly that he didn't care. he didn't care what he felt, he didn't care what the process did to him.

    but he lost the chance to find out when he felt that tug against his ankle. ambrose's eyes went wide, his grip tightening around michael's if such a thing were possibly, a look of desperation on his face as he whipped his gaze around, tugged and tugged and tugged against it until whatever power michael had displayed scared it off. but hardly permanently.

    the next moment, tendrils were gripping his very soul and it was like a sense of suffocation as ambrose's gaze whipped back around to michael. he tried to tap into his abilities, his magic, but he couldn't seem to take hold of it. lips parting, he let out a strangled sound of desperation, hoping that his own sheer willpower and determine might trigger a burst of something helpful. it was a determination born of everything that michael represented, his confidence, his power, where it all came from, but all at the same time, he could feel himself internally screaming. begging.

    please don't leave me here. please don't leave me.
     
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  10. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Michael could feel this creatures presence in the darkness and it did not seem to appreciate him coming into its realm to try and remove something it believed didn’t belong to him. The thing was, it was wrong.

    Ambrose may not have specifically signed his name in a book to Michael, but he had signed it to a version of his father and if there was one thing Michael had learned from the Lucifer in Pandora it was that it didn’t matter in this world. There were a multitude of versions of someone but that was irrelevant, Ambrose had signed his eternal soul to the devil, Michael’s father. He was his god damned fucking inheritance.

    His grip tightened on Ambrose’s soul, determined not to let him be taken back by the grasping tendril trying to drag him away and break their connection. Michael suspected that if it did break he would have a considerably harder time getting back to Ambrose a second time. This was their one chance right now and Michael was not going to lose it.

    He could practically hear Ambrose screaming out to him not to leave him behind and Michael looked to him, ”I’m not going to leave you. But you have to fight.” he replied, ”With everything you have. You signed your soul in my fathers book. Your soul is mine, it does not belong here.” He reminded him. He didn’t belong here, this thing had no power over him, no hold or ownership. Michael reached out one last time and gave an almighty haul.

    Ripping Ambrose’s soul free of the Otherworld he sat bolt upright back in the world of the living and sucked in a deep breath of fresh oxygen. Exhaustion hit him almost immediately, like getting hit by a train it punched all the strength out of him and Michael flopped forward with a grunt. To his right ashes were skittering through the air, they fluttered and collected like dust being blown in a breeze only it grew and grew and grew until it was the shape of Ambrose Spellman laying there on the ground. Michael had granted him life again and along with the smug sense of triumph came a sense of tiredness as he sat there and caught his breath. That had been harder than last time. That version of the afterlife had not liked him trespassing in it.

     
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  11. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    [​IMG]
    That sense of ownership, the idea that his soul belonged to somebody aside from himself, was far from unfamiliar to him. It was the entire basis of who he was and what he could do, and yet before this moment, Ambrose didn't think he would have taken a liking to hearing it with his own ears. He knew he had signed that book. The pressure to do so was always there and even now, he wouldn't have given up the power that decision had given him, but there was still a willingness to be his own man, to take ownership of himself. In that moment, though? In that moment and the moments to follow, Ambrose knew that he was Michael's and if he pulled him from this dark pit of nothingness, he would never have hoped for that to change. He would have done anything. He would have given him anything. It was a dangerous thought and it was a desperate thought, but to live another day was what drove him to fight as hard as Michael told him to fight.

    He fought until he couldn't fight anymore, and when everything faded around him, Ambrose didn't know what that meant. He didn't know if Michael had let go, if he had fallen into the depths once more, or if it had been something else entirely.

    It was with a gasp he awoke, not long after his form had gathered there on the floor to Michael's right. He gasped and he continued to gasp as though air was something he had been depraved of for too long. And it was the truth. He had been dead. He had been dead and gone, his heart had stopped beating, he hadn't expected the chance to take in another breath of air and yet here he was now, lungs desperately gulping it down, his chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His hands were shaking as he let them slide along the ground beneath him, taking in the fact alone that he could feel the texture of it at all. There was light all around him, the natural kind, the kind that told him he had been brought back into the world of the living.

    Pushing himself up to sit slowly upright was an uncomfortable process. He felt like he'd been swimming deep down under and was just now trying to find his bearings again, but once he had, he turned his head, eyes falling on the familiar shape of Michael Langdon beside him. He could still picture him perfectly in the darkness, piercing through it as though it could not take hold of him the way that it had taken hold of Ambrose. As though it were a realm that held no sway over him at all. If it weren't for him, Ambrose would still been knelt in the dark, trying to hold onto what was left of himself before it was lost to him forever. If it weren't for him, Ambrose wouldn't even have been alive. Dealings surrounding the dead were a specialty for the warlock, but it was different being on the other end of it all, and even then, what Michael had done for him was something to leave him speechless. Ambrose Spellman who always had something to say was speechless and rather than hesitate in any regard, he reached for him with both hands, latching onto him because he didn't know what else to do, what else to say, what else even to feel besides all of the overwhelming gratitude there was in the world.

    Or maybe this was all that he could do not to break down.
     
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  12. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Michael didn’t profess to have any idea how there even was a different version of hell, or death or whatever it was he’d just ventured into if it even was anything that could be compared to what he knew from his own world, all he knew was that it hadn’t liked him and it hadn’t wanted him there and the fight to keep hold of Ambrose’s soul and pull it from the depths had not been an easy fight. He drew his knees up slightly where he sat on the floor so he could rest his arms on them and caught his breath, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment to try and reorient himself a little dizzily. That spell could kill lesser witches and even with all of hells power at his fingertips it took effort for him to take a soul from somewhere that didn’t want to let it go.

    By his side Michael heard the deep sucking gasp of Ambrose’s taking his first breath as a living man once again. The sound pulled a triumphant little smirk up at the corners of Michael’s mouth as he half turned his head and looked askance at him, he was still lying down, still sucking in great big gasps like a fish that had just been hauled ashore by a fisherman. He was gasping in air like a drowning man, and maybe that was right, he had been drowning down there in that place, it had felt smothering enough and it had no sway over Michael himself. He turned away returning his focus to his own energy reserves, or rather lack of them. He was so tired and he was hungry. A strange craving for something savoury itched in the back of his mind. Michael exhaled a deep sigh and started to consider standing up which he should probably do before the temptation to lay back down and sleep for a week took over.

    However as he started to consider it he heard the rustle of movement beside him and suddenly there was a touch and he was being hauled into an embrace. Well, less of an embrace it felt more like Ambrose was clinging onto him for dear life. It wasn’t that Michael disliked physical shows of affection, on the contrary as a child he’d craved them and he’d always eagerly run into Ms Mead’s arms, but he was exhausted and felt vulnerable and the embrace came as a little surprise. He startled momentarily, body tensing before his own exhaustion made him sag very slightly into the grasp. He turned and raised his own arms instinctively to return the hug and exhaled a tired sigh.

    ”Try not to die again for a while.” Michael requested, his tone tired but relatively amused considering the subject, ”I’m not sure that place liked me very much and it’s even more tiring than hell getting someone out of it.”

    He withdrew slowly because it was clear to him that the embrace was more for Ambrose than anything and he understood that it could be somewhat traumatic coming back from something like that. He’d watched Misty return from the dead after so long and along with her fear of him she’d been a wreck for a while afterwards, Michael didn’t expect the effects would be so long lasting with Ambrose as he hadn’t been down there for as long but the immediate effects would certainly linger for a while longer.

    ”Are you alright?” He asked arching an eyebrow, ”The experience can be somewhat traumatic at first but the effects will wear off.”

     
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  13. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
    356
    [​IMG]
    Always a confident creature, it was rare for others to see this side of Ambrose Spellman. Granted, a lot of that had to do with the fact that he had been behind four walls for seventy-five years of his life and as a result, others hadn't really seen any side of him at all. And yet, even in Pandora, he'd been eager and cocky, embracing the world around him, sometimes the darkest parts in the darkest places. But despite it all, he was still afraid. Afraid of death, afraid of the eternal kind, and nothing had felt more empty and more eternal than the nothingness that Michael Langdon had just pulled him from.

    The truth was, Ambrose wasn't even entirely aware of the fact that Michael had hesitated, had been taken aback by the gesture at all. For a man as aware of his surroundings as Ambrose had a tendency to be, he was oblivious in that moment to the way this was affecting the other. Maybe it was selfish in some ways, but it couldn't be helped either. A part of him still felt like it was back there in the dark, like he didn't even feel real.

    As though on cue, he started to feel Michael pulling away, and that keen awareness of his began to return to him. Slowly but surely past the pounding ache in his head, he could hear that question, that very loaded question. Was he alright? He'd been dead. He'd been dead, and despite his talents in necromancy, he himself had never been dead before.

    "... If it wasn't Hell, then what was it?" he eventually managed. Ambrose didn't feel the need to answer Michael's question. He thought the answer was obvious in the way his fingers still clung to Michael's arms, although a moment later, once he had started to remember how to breathe again, he let them release him, sliding back to his sides again. "I think I knew it couldn't have been. It was nothing like they described."

    Was it Pandora's version of hell? Or had that white-haired witch sent him specifically there in death?
     
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  14. Michael Langdon

    Michael Langdon American Horror Story
    you should see me in a crown

    Posts:
    350
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Harbinger of the Apocalypse =)
    Location:
    94 Widewater Avenue, Ark City
    Race:
    Anti-Christ
    Age:
    Late Teens??
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Evil
    Directory:
    link
    [​IMG]
    Despite Michael drawing slowly back from him, Ambrose’s finger remained tightly clutching his arm. Michael allowed it because he could see the answer to his question in the grip. Ambrose wasn’t okay and perhaps it would take time or perhaps the experience would forever scar him somehow. It was understandable, he had been dead and he’d been there for who knew how long, time in places like that didn’t always necessarily run the same way time did for the living and the experience of returning from death, something supposed to be permanent was no mean feat. There was a reason only the most powerful of magic wielders was capable of it, or those like Michael who possessed something like magic but different.

    ”The Pandora equivalent...” Mihael suggested with a slight shrug of his shoulders and felt Ambrose finally coming back to himself enough to release his arm. ”Or...whatever it counts for in this world, it’s not as though any of it follows the rules of our own world but I can tell you my father had nothing to do with that place...it did not like me trespassing in there. Whatever it was.” Michael recalled the sensation of something fathomless focusing on to him with such surprise and immediate annoyance and hate, the way it had tried to clutch hold of Ambrose and force him out and away. Hell had always welcomed him, had bent to his will but that place? He shook his head slightly, shaking the feeling off.

    His focus returned to Ambrose, keen blue eyes flicked over him as though making sure he’d brought everything back the way it should be, perhaps even that the person he’d brought back was the one he should have. ”...what happened?” He said finally, ”You disappeared, I thought Pandora had taken you back to your world until people started talking about your death.” His gaze swept over Ambrose. He could look. He could find out if he wanted, see the secrets Ambrose kept...but after what he’d just done he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth so to speak, ”Who killed you, Ambrose?” There as an edge to his voice, an edge that said whoever it was had no right to take a soul that belonged to him. To his father.


     
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  15. Ambrose Spellman

    Ambrose Spellman The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

    Posts:
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    Sitting there, Ambrose spent quite a lot of his minutes consciously breathing. In and out, in and out, feeling his chest rising and falling, just remembering that he even could. Breathing had been hard down there. He didn't know that he had even been doing it. He supposed he didn't have to if he was already dead, but he'd been aware of the fact that he couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't see. It was just nothingness, something he hadn't been prepared for. He didn't think anybody could ever have been prepared for something like that, not even a creature of the dark, not even a servant of the Dark Lord. He wondered how somebody like Michael Langdon himself would have fared down there. He wondered whether or not he would be able to drag himself out from that abyss the way that he had dragged Ambrose out.

    Then he heard that dreaded question, although he hadn't realized that he was dreading it at all until that very moment. What happened? Who had killed him? Ambrose hadn't thought about it in quite awhile, he suddenly realized. He had thought about the aftermath, about the cage he had been in. He had thought about feeling nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but the emptiness. But he hadn't thought about why he had been there, about who had put him there. The question brought it all back in a rush of memory, the man on the street, pressed up against him heatedly until the moment she showed herself, burned him alive then and there. He remembered the messages he had sent Sabrina, telling her he was going away. Telling her that he would be back.

    If it weren't for Michael, he wouldn't have.

    He remembered being out in the Dread Wastes, finding his way to Horizon, the place where people went when they didn't want to be found. He remembered how beautiful it had been and he remembered deciding that it was a place he could see himself staying for some time until the storm passed, so to speak. And he remembered her. Clearly. He remembered the blood red of her eyes staring at him as felt his throat crushing, and that memory along caused him to lift a shaking hand to his throat.More than any of that, he remembered why. He remembered why she was there, he remembered where it had all started.

    "Ozpin," he finally whispered, his dark eyes staring at the floor, lost somewhere in his head. No, he hadn't been the one to kill him. He hadn't dealt the blow, he hadn't held him down and covered his mouth, bound his arms so that he couldn't teleport away. He hadn't been the one to do all of that, but he had been the one to abandon him when the warlock had never needed him more. Ambrose, as his rage started to bubble up, knew who to blame. "He told me she didn't care enough to come back, and I-- He was wrong. She came back again and again, and-- and I begged him. I begged him over and over and over--" And he wouldn't come. He wouldn't do anything. He refused to get involved, he refused to come clean up his own mess, and it had cost Ambrose his life.

    "He told me her name. Salem," he eventually murmured, jaw clenched tight as his flicked his dark gaze back toward Michael again. "The only help he wanted to give."