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08-20-2016, 11:08 PM
Days and nights pass without the counting of time, nothing more than the changing of the world to suit the location of two celestial bodies that he has no thought nor care for. They are permanent, fixated, a thing that will always be and therefore something he doesn’t have to think towards. If something has been there for thousands, possibly even millions and billions of years, through generations and bloodlines thickening and thinning, empires rising and falling and legacies making, then there is no reason to question if someday it will not be there. Or for at least his time atop this planet.
Worlds pass beneath his hooves. Men crumble at his fights, his teeth sinking into their coloured bodies and hooves striking. Women either look at him with interest or fear, possibly both, and he assures himself that they’ve never passed him up. He is a grand man, giant, mortal god in his own eyes and mind with the right that he can believe this of himself. His blood is poured from that of many greats, legends, and he intends to join them with his own mark upon this world, whether it be alike theirs or his very own to admire.
But there is something he feels that he must do before he carries on to his ascension. A place has wilted its way into his bones and spun the fibers of his soul, a disease and the making of him. It had birthed him, and it is only natural that a man with strong intentions begin in the place that could possibly know him best.
In the outside, he bares no name. He is not Zhu nor anyone else, just a dark, tall man with moon eyes and a harsh gaze, ready for challenges when they present them to him.
He has pushed through these trees just once in his life, slipping out in the mindset that that was the last time he’ll ever have see their tall bodies searching for the sky. But here he is, wrong, pushing through them again, hide proudly scarred with indefinency, slithering tail coiled round and held high because no longer will he put up with the constant annoyance of leaves and brambles clutching themselves within its grasp and having to later pick them free. His lips have been drawn into a tight line. Heat burns into him.
He encourages Death to discover him soon or something from the man that he has made himself outside of this place to rise forth and claim him, to wield a sword or crown and force upon him something that he secretly loves and accepts with great, hidden, internal pride.
It never comes. He is simply forced to pass through on the way to the end of the world, tempted to turn away and search for something more than societies that he sees no use in and family members he doesn’t care for.
Chance has other plans though. Here it is now, so Zhu, look at what life has handed you upon a silver platter, himself painted silver but not dainty and polished, no beauty left in him. Not that Zhu cares for beauty. It doesn’t capture his eye at all.
When his name rolls forth, he has almost forgotten that Zhu is him, the name graced upon by his beautiful mother, strong-souled and brave in a different kind of way. Zhu, the one that Kid knows, is nothing but a faint memory, heavy headed and defiant, thinking of ways to better himself at the use of others. Now? The Zhu before him is a demon, black bodied and white eyed, built like a mountain with muscles fine-tuned by hard work and battle that he’s enjoyed himself in partaking in. This one doesn’t want to see nor hear nor feel a breath sweep from his lesser brother’s nostrils, not even a single word.
Yet they pour out in their tongue, hungarian, asking where he has thundered his path to. There is no definite answer to this question. He has been everywhere, in places that have no names that even if they did, they mean nothing to him. All in all, they were only earth for him to walk upon with people who he could bring down on top of it.
“Mindenfelé.”
He speaks it like defiance. Kid doesn’t deserve the right to know where he has been, nor does he even deserve the right to speak to him. He can smell the sin on him. It manages to fumigate the area and leave a distinct need to tear the filth from him inside Zhu.
Even now, he manages to embarrass their family.
“Miért érdekel?” The tone in his voice never ceases on its brutality. There is, though, some truth in it. Who is Kid to care for him when Zhu has nothing but hatred prepared for him?
Mindenfelé: everywhere
Miért érdekel: why do you care?
