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08-17-2012, 08:13 PM
He felt curiosity, and so he followed it, pursuing the thread of interest against a mahogany backdrop of rustic trees and dimpled forest. There is a stench of death that accompanies the pretty picture, an undertone of new life against something decrepit and distraught that fought to permeate the ancient ambiance. He ought to have felt out of place in this land of age and mystery, a youthful figure starkly contrasted against the cruelly ancient trees, the fallen giants who mark a once proud realm with determined tenacity, despite the great black streaks and whispers of fire. But he did not feel out of place, he did not even care about them, their majesty. He stepped into streams and kicked up stones, his dense figure a careless traveler beneath a cloudless evening sky. Occasionally, the bright fire of the setting sun pierced the trees and became trapped in his mane. His friend walked at his side. It was nearly perfect, this time, and he felt pride at the figure, the way its steps beat against the ground, the way its black mane caught the light, and bound it. The smooth line of its socks, the silver eye that gazed back at him. The only problem, really, was the way the earth refused to shift against it, the refusal of the leaves to fly beneath its hooves, the way the wind stubbornly denied its existence, giving no way for Belial's imaginary friend. The fact that, when put to the challenge of touch, there would only be warmth, the warmth of stolen sunlight and sustained illusion. Belial snorted at his double, and his double looked at him curiously, its bright forelock stagnant against the gentle breeze. "Do you think we'll find anyone?" the colt asked his companion. He did not wait for a response, but went on, "I mean, I know we will - but when? It doesn't smell like they all died. Maybe they don't like the woods. It is pretty burnt." The illusion laughed, its grey form shaking in the motion, piercing the stale air and failing to cast shadows. Belial grinned back at his companion, and together they continued on, approaching the end of the woods, two youths in the fading light, grey and bronze, real and imaginary. |
