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The strides that glided the shadow swathed man were long, they were easy, they were purposeful even without his mind intending destination. His pallid eyes were half-drawn when his viewed the world with seeming incomprehension... but Revenant saw everything. He acknowledged the world: life, it's joys, it's miseries all for what they were. He navigated through them a usually quiet black sylph and was always attentive, always curious, even if the emotion never splayed across his disheveled face.
He always hid behind apathy.
It was much easier to forget and shield himself from the world's, what a cruel mistress she was, less then desirable teachings. He'd been dealt enough. Enough.
A woman that didn't love him - a capricious bitch that had sullied his soul and trampled his heart - viewed him with disdain and held him in little regard somewhere. A child he'd bore her was nothing but remains now, scattered, maimed, brutalized all for the chance of obtaining riches. Riches and power. It's all she ever cared about, his dear Atalanta, and at the first breath of acquiring her coveting she'd spurned everything they'd created together: their life, their precious daughter, their love. What a laugh! She hadn't loved him. Not really, had she? She hadn't adored their child either. That much was evident when he'd found her mutilated upon the slate of the mountains they'd inhabited - a macabre offering, a renouncing of Atalanta's all previous ties so that she could begin anew in the bed of some noble stranger. Damn her.
His breath purled up in a fine mist as the nomad exhaled a sigh. Frigid air gripped his lungs like cold fists and sent a shiver through his abysmal body. He waited, obsidian statuesque, for nothing as he'd come to expect nothing. Still and waiting.
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