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07-31-2014, 07:21 PM
Crowley
stole many a man's soul and faith
From atop the fields, one could look out for miles upon miles on a clear day, and in the far distance beyond the salty sea waters, see the frozen tundra of the northern lands. The same lands that the foul stag had once called home, but had neglected to return to in nearly a year.
Often he wondered, just who still remained there? There was no doubt things had changed since his last time spent there, before darkness and sickness had descended, but what had changed, and how? Did the mad doctor, his old friend, d'Artagnan, continue to call it home? What of Psyche, Faelene, his family? It would be so easy to simply go back and search for them, to settle back in to his old home, but... he couldn't.
Because he had let them down, failed to perform his duties when he had promised otherwise, abandoned his family. What on earth could he say to any of that?
A ragged, shuddering breath passed through the brute's dark lips, sending a swirl of shadow spiraling away until it and the whisper that accompanied it faded completely. A horrid, freezing sleet had been following him for several days now, racking his body with violent shivers and a cough that shook him to the core. It mattered not where he took cover, because no cover could shield him from the Moon's unrelenting curse, but he could only pray to her that it might end soon... lest it end up being the death of him.
Talbot had done his best to comfort his master, even going so far as to try and curl beside him in the nights to provide warmth, but Crowley would only send him away. There was no use in them both growing sickly, or even worse, dying, and so the hound reluctantly kept his distance from the continually falling sleet.
But standing there atop the fields, his tall, slender frame trembling, how much longer would he be able to take the chill, the sickness that had claimed his body?
"speak"
[ooc - Pardon his rustiness, it's been a while!
Often he wondered, just who still remained there? There was no doubt things had changed since his last time spent there, before darkness and sickness had descended, but what had changed, and how? Did the mad doctor, his old friend, d'Artagnan, continue to call it home? What of Psyche, Faelene, his family? It would be so easy to simply go back and search for them, to settle back in to his old home, but... he couldn't.
Because he had let them down, failed to perform his duties when he had promised otherwise, abandoned his family. What on earth could he say to any of that?
A ragged, shuddering breath passed through the brute's dark lips, sending a swirl of shadow spiraling away until it and the whisper that accompanied it faded completely. A horrid, freezing sleet had been following him for several days now, racking his body with violent shivers and a cough that shook him to the core. It mattered not where he took cover, because no cover could shield him from the Moon's unrelenting curse, but he could only pray to her that it might end soon... lest it end up being the death of him.
Talbot had done his best to comfort his master, even going so far as to try and curl beside him in the nights to provide warmth, but Crowley would only send him away. There was no use in them both growing sickly, or even worse, dying, and so the hound reluctantly kept his distance from the continually falling sleet.
But standing there atop the fields, his tall, slender frame trembling, how much longer would he be able to take the chill, the sickness that had claimed his body?
"speak"
[ooc - Pardon his rustiness, it's been a while!
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
