Prometheus

and Pyr

We have watched them, you and I.

Watched and waited.

The years have come and gone—time dragging days away into months, the seasons molding both earth and firmament with rough fingers of wind and rain. The world turns on and on; ever moving, ever changing, and ever evolving. Time passes beneath me—beneath the infected gaze of the zombie child, the undead, the cursed wretch of the shadows (is that what you think they would call me now, brother? Cursed?) I can’t help but let slip a wide smile, amused by the title, thick blood oozing slowly from fetid lips and spraying with the breath of my hoarse laughter.

How ignorant they are.

They would benefit from an example, a show of what it would truly mean to be cursed. I suppose the time has finally come, hasn’t it? The shadows can no longer shelter us, my brother, as dear as they have come to be (and I let go of them willingly, heeding your gentle prodding when large paws carry you ahead of me, because I know even then, we will not be alone).

From the darkness, we emerge as one. I blink against the moon’s full light, disease-ridden eyes clotted and seeping with the death that pollutes my body (my soul), before I look to you. Your face is much less critical than my own, uninhibited by greed or poison—and I try not to think of your scars, those chains, refusing to acknowledge how foolish I might have been—

—focusing instead on the cusp of our glory, for we have arrived.

Releasing a long sigh that rattles with death, I call upon my magic to transform me. Decaying muscles thicken beneath once-rotten skin, healthy now by the magic that courses through my body, raising me to what I could have—should have—been. The dead child is gone, his putrid figure and macabre thoughts hidden behind the stallion, tucked away and thriving beneath the thin guise of life. I laugh freely, delighted by the smooth sound as it breathes through silent organs, your growling purr deepening my ghoulish grin before, together, we delve into what was once ours.

I find it again without difficulty—that place in the mountains, tucked beneath their rocky peaks and risen above the others, uncrowned and groveling at our feet. I stride to its entrance with you at my side, pausing only a moment before coming to a halt. I debate treading further, probing into the borders (because, my dear brother, we bow to no one), but with the help of your firm cautioning, I do not. ‘Trespassing,’ You warn simply, and I hold your eyes with a glare before consenting with a nod.

After all, we have waited this long—

—what would a little more time mean now?


notes; He's in his potential form, no wings c:
Eeee I'm excited!!! This is open for anyone to join, but I'd like this thread to move along as quickly as possible, so no posting order apart from leads. Yay!
“Speech.”