Cathun

It is at night that he feels the most isolated.

Under the blanket of stars, the great desert of the Throat stretches out before him like a dark ocean.  To the south, in the distance, a great pyre burns - golden, immortal.  Through his own freakish existence, a second has joined the landscape of the desert realm: Cathun.  The burning man himself, pacing restlessly in the late hours, feeling the flames of his body consuming his soul and his heart reaching out desperately from the coals.

The sands shifted in the time he had been missing, seeking another option aside from an endless stream of murders to keep his flesh in place and the inner pyre of his true nature at bay.  Precious time had already been wasted, and the thought, the notion that Ranjiri's life might be forfeit because of his failure clenched his stomach with a terrible fear.  It is at night, in the home her formerly had come to know, to love, to understand, that guilt clutches at his throat.

He had not found the wisdom within the mouth's of others he needed to return to the Time God, and his life force slipped further and further into the abyss with each passing moment.  Agitation, at himself, at the world, at the priests, at anything and everything drove his legs to motion, scorching the earth in his path.  Hours and hours he walked forward, North, toward some unknown mystery.  He wished to fulfill the promise made, to save himself and spare the girl he trusted and cared about.  The crushing feeling of doubt reigns supreme, however, like a weight firmly planted across both shoulders.

The voice in the back of his mind, the one he fought to silence, beginning to chime in the silence under starlight.  You are a monster.  A disgrace.  A murderer.  An abomination.  The whispers clog his thoughts and force him forward, finding himself quite mindlessly in front of a familiar place.
The Heart.
The flames of the world sprung forth in the darkness, leaping to greet a creature of similar making.

Hypnotically, the orange tongues dance and crack, flickering with brilliant life.  The warmth from the Heart is not felt, but mimicked from the very body that had once been bound in flesh.  Nothing more than a fire shaped and twisted in a frame of a horse, Cathun stands.  He appears much like a demon that had broken free from the Heart itself, and wishes silently that his fate were as kind.  Wreathed in flames and regret, he stares into the fire, lost and alone.

""

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ooc -- Trying to get his plotline moving again.  Tagging some people who replied to his plot thread and might be interested still, but anyone is welcome to reply.  <3
@Amara @Cera @Albrecht

so tell me why, baby, they might call me crazy
for saying I'd fight, until there is no more