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12-10-2012, 04:47 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-10-2012, 04:48 PM by Prometheus.)
I speak without hesitation, for there is nothing to hesitate upon. "Lord of the Sun, I have come here to discuss your gift," come the words, fresh from my tattered lips. It seems a pity to call the blessing a curse in the company of lessers, but if I must hide their majesty before the eyes of ignorant fellows, I will. The wings were meant to let me soar and advance, not to hinder me in such a manner as this. You seem pleased to see the God of the Sun once more, and your purr is audible even above the faint crackling of the fire emanating from your coat. The ancient and atrophied muscles strung across my lips try to tug and squeeze, but I cannot smile. The news is grave, and speaking of it to this god is a risk I am not eager to take. If there are any that can take me out of this world, they are the gods. "Not all I meet are keen on my wings; I ask only that I might be able to meld them to my own flesh as a manner of keeping them from undeserving eyes. I understand and accept any task you set before me, I am willing to endure any pain- I simply cannot let this gift become a hindrance." My dead eyes scan the veins and the sky above impatiently; the stub of my hindquarters clenches as if a tail still rests there. Only you stay calm, burning as your own torch, gentle and patient. I envy you, to an extent. I miss you and your mind more, however. More than anything else. |
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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
