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05-31-2016, 10:00 AM
He stands watching, still removed from the heart of proceedings, as a few more bodies wander in. At first they’re all misfits like him, ineligible for a warrior position through age, though theirs is too young while his is too old, and then something else joins the party, something dark and oppressive and morbidly familiar.
He knows death. He knows how it whispers seductive promises of mercy, always pressing a comforting shoulder to his misery. I will warm you, it breathed when the cold sealed his eyes and splintered his flesh from the inside out. I will numb you, it promised when the clawing, desperate emptiness of his stomach ripped at his organs. It is only a moment, it soothed when the frenzy of terror took him in the sight and the smell of blood, in the unending squeals of agony. But I am forever, it challenged his fears. And I will never leave you, it assured when the gaping, dismantling loneliness of abandonment and damnation threatened to consume him.
Too many times his ears have tipped to the sweetened, sultry voice, a favorite plaything for the bored eternity. Always he shies away and always death laughs, hovering nearby with the surety of eventual victory. He knows that he won’t live forever, but he’ll live today, because whatever comes after can only be worse than the life that he lived in his youth. So he'll cling to the here and the now for as long as he can, and when his grip fails and he falls even lower he'll scrabble for a new hold, slowing the descent as best he can.
Wide eyed and quivering, he jerks away from the Reaper. "No." He rasps, breathless. The Lord of the Basin is only a man, but he carries the presence of that something else within him, making it cruel and unpredictable. The elder stumbles backward, fleeing. Let the warriors deal with warrior business. He's too shaken to even be angry - At least he bothered to show up, and when it wasn't even required of him - but the complaint lodges itself in the back of his mind for future annoyance, right next to the one for the laughable sneak meeting.
OOC // Was too distracted hear what anyone else said. Hastily leaves. @Deimos
He knows death. He knows how it whispers seductive promises of mercy, always pressing a comforting shoulder to his misery. I will warm you, it breathed when the cold sealed his eyes and splintered his flesh from the inside out. I will numb you, it promised when the clawing, desperate emptiness of his stomach ripped at his organs. It is only a moment, it soothed when the frenzy of terror took him in the sight and the smell of blood, in the unending squeals of agony. But I am forever, it challenged his fears. And I will never leave you, it assured when the gaping, dismantling loneliness of abandonment and damnation threatened to consume him.
Too many times his ears have tipped to the sweetened, sultry voice, a favorite plaything for the bored eternity. Always he shies away and always death laughs, hovering nearby with the surety of eventual victory. He knows that he won’t live forever, but he’ll live today, because whatever comes after can only be worse than the life that he lived in his youth. So he'll cling to the here and the now for as long as he can, and when his grip fails and he falls even lower he'll scrabble for a new hold, slowing the descent as best he can.
Wide eyed and quivering, he jerks away from the Reaper. "No." He rasps, breathless. The Lord of the Basin is only a man, but he carries the presence of that something else within him, making it cruel and unpredictable. The elder stumbles backward, fleeing. Let the warriors deal with warrior business. He's too shaken to even be angry - At least he bothered to show up, and when it wasn't even required of him - but the complaint lodges itself in the back of his mind for future annoyance, right next to the one for the laughable sneak meeting.
OOC // Was too distracted hear what anyone else said. Hastily leaves. @Deimos
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