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08-20-2012, 07:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-20-2012, 07:29 PM by Prometheus.)
In silence the elder being stands before the undead, but I've no desire to break the moment of hallowed peace. I see disgust in his eyes and I brush it aside as I instead focus on his words, and how together they form my latest task. He asks for wings and I let a twisted, broken grin appear upon the features of my broken, tilted jaw and my shredded lips. Even you seem to perk up at the notion of returning to our old home and once more sleeping among the chilled forms of the dead. The water in the Dragon's Throat is too pure for my taste, and I can tell that you miss the blood tinted pools of the marsh just as much as I. You've not bathed since we migrated to our new home, not slept the same in the quiet nights there that are eerily safe and quiet. You were raised among the midnight moans of the dead and the smell of rotting flesh- I am the creature that makes such a noise at night, that creates the stench that wrinkles the nostrils of so many passing by. We will be just fine there. With a respectful nod and an off look in my eyes, I find myself dipping to lower my short and broken horn to the God before me. My voice a soft death rattle, I answer once, briefly, before turning to leave the deity behind: "Gladly, Sun King." And then, with silence in our wake, we begin the long journey home. |
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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
