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02-18-2015, 07:44 AM
![[Image: 2yyxfu0.jpg]](http://i61.tinypic.com/2yyxfu0.jpg)
He moved with the wind, allowing it to embody the emptiness in his heart and drag him forward — at least forward was not backward, because to turn back now would be to condemn himself to certain madness. Time had melted into an oblivion which he knew by name; he knew it's voice when it whispered bittersweet memories against his cheek, and he knew the way it wrapped it's cold fingers around his throat... oh yes he knew it well. He always had. And he couldn't remember how far he had travelled from home, from the demons that snarled at his heels. It had been months, surely? Iscariot no longer had any way of knowing these things, too lost in his own desolation.
The auburn-skinned stallion paused, quite suddenly, breaking free from the breeze and took a moment to study his surroundings as though for the very first time. The trees loomed into the heavens and shadows lurked, snickered, in the corner of his eye; how different this forest was from the desert kingdom he had ruled over. It had been a harsh landscape full of heat and aridity, but it had held a beauty that, as yet, remained unparalleled in Iscariot's eyes and memory — aside from... Severina. Her name slashed and sliced at his heart, and the old scar on his chest began to throb as though reopened once more. Time, it would seem, was yet to heal this particularly tragic wound.
Limping onward, Iscariot felt the numbing ache of his club foot, and though he did not visibly display his discomfort it was clear that sooner or later he would have no choice but to stop and rest. The thought caused ripples of uncertainty to permeate out across the synapses of his troubled mind; movement had been his solace. It had been his defense against a grief he was not yet ready to bear, and so to stop was to face the despair head on. Was he ready? Did he have a choice? Perhaps it was time to find out. His storm-grey eyes flickered in the dark as he heaved a tired sigh —
"Oh, Sev, just what am I going to do?"
The auburn-skinned stallion paused, quite suddenly, breaking free from the breeze and took a moment to study his surroundings as though for the very first time. The trees loomed into the heavens and shadows lurked, snickered, in the corner of his eye; how different this forest was from the desert kingdom he had ruled over. It had been a harsh landscape full of heat and aridity, but it had held a beauty that, as yet, remained unparalleled in Iscariot's eyes and memory — aside from... Severina. Her name slashed and sliced at his heart, and the old scar on his chest began to throb as though reopened once more. Time, it would seem, was yet to heal this particularly tragic wound.
Limping onward, Iscariot felt the numbing ache of his club foot, and though he did not visibly display his discomfort it was clear that sooner or later he would have no choice but to stop and rest. The thought caused ripples of uncertainty to permeate out across the synapses of his troubled mind; movement had been his solace. It had been his defense against a grief he was not yet ready to bear, and so to stop was to face the despair head on. Was he ready? Did he have a choice? Perhaps it was time to find out. His storm-grey eyes flickered in the dark as he heaved a tired sigh —
"Oh, Sev, just what am I going to do?"
