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08-22-2012, 12:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-10-2012, 08:06 PM by Prometheus.)
I wander through the edge, recalling my younger days here when you were but a cub and I was a mere shadow of what I am now. My visit with Cineviam here had been far from fateful, and I could hardly remember it now. What was there to remember other than whispers of supremacies and schemes in this herd of the living. Perhaps it is death that brings me wisdom, for having no hold on life makes less fearful that I will lose it, but whatever it may be, I know I stand above the many here who fail to understand a concept of equality. I see it now differently than I may have ever before. In life, all are equal. They breathe and need, they love and fear. It is only in death that the subtle similarities fade and make way for the vast differences in the creatures here. It is the look in the eyes as that cleft hoof strikes down towards the face, the final thought running through the mind, that makes one entirely unique. And now I cheat the system; I continue to think, to look, even after death. I am the only difference in this pitiful world, the only creature who is truly unique when placed beside any other. Horns and wings have no effect on life; it is only in death that such creatures may at last be sorted into their respective realms. Heaven or Hell, the two realms of myth. Some myth, anyway. In all my time here I've still found it hard to decipher the language of the gods and the spell they have on so many of these mortals. If the divide is so clear, then why, how, do I exist? Am I merely a product of mercy and pity? If so, I've no desire to continue on as I do. Strike me down, for unless I am my own, I am nothing at all! You seem to care less, to stalk and pick your way across the rocks in the shadow of the cliff and seek out the source of the scent of blood, but I know better. I know there is a grander meaning than this, than searching for the next meal, seeking out that familiar sensation of tearing flesh from bone. Still, if I am to find it, am I really one to refuse? Do I not suffer from the same burden as any other- am I not weighted by instinct just as you are worn down by the chains I've crafted for you? The thought that perhaps it does not matter crosses my mind, and I turn my focus to the task at hand. I push aside pebbles that threaten to embed themselves in the tender, rotting flesh around my frayed, dull hooves with a gentle touch of my nose, and take in the scents around me with active nostrils that flare with every breath. My ears perk, and beside me you approach, letting your fur graze my hide ever so slightly as you purr with contentedness and the satisfaction of your success. You were right to lead us here- death is in the air. |
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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
