(no subject)
Oct. 14th, 2004 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_eyed_lordThe Rider lies on the bed in his room at Milliways, head pillowed on his hands. He is fully clothed except for his shoes, which he has kicked off.
It is so strange to sleep again, especially in a bed. When in Rome….
He is smiling to himself, an unpleasant, greedy, and satisfied smile. Last night had been extremely gratifying. The foolish old man had hardly seen it coming. He chuckles to himself. Blinded by his love for others. Ha! Love, the Rider thinks with scorn, love is so easily manipulated.
He feels full inside. Using his powers once more had filled him with such a rush of adrenaline. Weakened as they are, a bitter voice in his head reminds him, but the Rider pushes it out of his mind. He is riding high on his victory.
Still smiling, he wonders how many people were hurt by his manipulation of this Anakin Skywalker. He knows Peter had interfered at the end, trying to recall Anakin to himself. The Rider frowned, that one was always interfering. It may have been just as well that it ended before it had really begun; the Rider may not have been able to control himself and crossed one of the invisible rules of this place, which could have resulted in being throw outside Time once more. One of the Rider's eyes twitches at this thought, the only sign of trepidation at this idea. This, however, does not expunge Peter's actions from the Rider's mind.
He had seen Anakin turn on Peter as he made his escape; he hopes Peter wasn't mortally wounded. The unpleasant smile is back on his face. Presumably Anakin had been talked back from the ledge since then--an unfortunate thing as men tend to be more cautious after being burned--but no doubt many of his friends were disappointed at his actions. It was so delightful how much harm could be accomplished through a single man. The Rider's smile becomes very wolf-like at this thought.
All in all, it hadn't been a bad night.
The Rider stretches languorously before standing and walking to the window in his room. He stands before the cold, glass pane and stares out on the black velvet backdrop of the universe, thousands of pinpricks of light shining out against it. His white smile stands out in the gloom all around him. Instead of sleeping, he stands at his window blending with the shadows until all that can be seen are his brilliant blue eyes, burning out of the dark like two cold stars.
It is so strange to sleep again, especially in a bed. When in Rome….
He is smiling to himself, an unpleasant, greedy, and satisfied smile. Last night had been extremely gratifying. The foolish old man had hardly seen it coming. He chuckles to himself. Blinded by his love for others. Ha! Love, the Rider thinks with scorn, love is so easily manipulated.
He feels full inside. Using his powers once more had filled him with such a rush of adrenaline. Weakened as they are, a bitter voice in his head reminds him, but the Rider pushes it out of his mind. He is riding high on his victory.
Still smiling, he wonders how many people were hurt by his manipulation of this Anakin Skywalker. He knows Peter had interfered at the end, trying to recall Anakin to himself. The Rider frowned, that one was always interfering. It may have been just as well that it ended before it had really begun; the Rider may not have been able to control himself and crossed one of the invisible rules of this place, which could have resulted in being throw outside Time once more. One of the Rider's eyes twitches at this thought, the only sign of trepidation at this idea. This, however, does not expunge Peter's actions from the Rider's mind.
He had seen Anakin turn on Peter as he made his escape; he hopes Peter wasn't mortally wounded. The unpleasant smile is back on his face. Presumably Anakin had been talked back from the ledge since then--an unfortunate thing as men tend to be more cautious after being burned--but no doubt many of his friends were disappointed at his actions. It was so delightful how much harm could be accomplished through a single man. The Rider's smile becomes very wolf-like at this thought.
All in all, it hadn't been a bad night.
The Rider stretches languorously before standing and walking to the window in his room. He stands before the cold, glass pane and stares out on the black velvet backdrop of the universe, thousands of pinpricks of light shining out against it. His white smile stands out in the gloom all around him. Instead of sleeping, he stands at his window blending with the shadows until all that can be seen are his brilliant blue eyes, burning out of the dark like two cold stars.
