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11-22-2015, 07:08 PM
Erebos
When he wasn’t entangled in the threads of chaos, he wondered where they’d all gone - his friends, his companions, his comrades. And while he wasn’t supposed to focus entirely on the past, he couldn’t help but remember their faces: lively and wonderful, hopeful and buoyant, feeding mischief and devilry to one another, bound by heart and spirit and bright, brilliant convictions. They’d been christened and anointed as children of the ice and snow, vigilant and brave, strong and enduring, capable of so many things and destined for so many accolades; until one by one, they trickled away, wandered off, became obliterated souls or massacred dreams. Had they seen something better, more worthwhile, gathered and cloistered across the horizon? Had they been pilfered into grandeur, into dazzling heights and blinding arrays, captured, emboldened, finding their pathways not fit for Helovia, but somewhere else? He liked to imagine them as successful, conquering, demonic soldiers, laughing as they slayed their dragons, or as sneaky, intrepid, daring sleuths, wiling away the hours of subterfuge until they snagged what they wanted. Perhaps Adelric drew his needle among sutures and bandages (or drove it deeper into spines and muscle and sinew), maybe Asch glowed as a foreign Queen (laughed and mocked her subjects; regal and refined). Even those he’d barely met flickered in his thoughts, silly Faeanne who taught him magic was nothing to be scared of, intriguing Auriel who searched for treasure in forest pools, or poor, idle Ryuu, tucked into icy prisons. They’d made him who he was, shaped and carved and sculpted, whittled away at his personality so that he’d become much more than a prince. He’d never had the chance to thank them – and he wished he could beckon them over the midnight oils and the dying rays of Tallsun, channel their images and figures in front of his eyes so they could laugh and cry and giggle like they once had…But he’d grown too much to believe in silly fantasies anymore, no matter how beautiful or tempting.
Reality had been harsh and cruel, unrelenting and pernicious; and he’d morphed in kind, matching it stride for stride, heart for heart, sin for sin. He couldn’t find them if they didn’t want to be found. He couldn’t bring them back to life if they were beneath the ground.
Did this make him jaded, bitter, cynical? Orsino murmured through their connection, chittered and chattered in his nefarious bits and pieces; Erebos ignored the cruel sentiments and stared at his reflection in a nearby puddle. How much had he changed, altered, transformed in their absence?
Would they recognize him anymore?
The twilight plumes played tricks on the water, like a tangible artifice, regal and temperate, and he gazed amongst the fireflies and lunar rays, narrowing his eyes to glare and sketch new plots, new plans, new schemes. He maneuvered over them, still a master of water, skimming along their surface, until his motions were no longer a crawl, and he chased down remnants of what he used to know, used to cherish, used to honor and uphold, following the moon’s trail upon the liquid mirrors.
I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
Image Credits
Image Credits
@Glacia
