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08-23-2014, 06:57 AM
so make me your deadman, with only poison in my veins,
stuck in your wonderland,
stagnated by the passivity, I'm gonna make you b l e e d like me;
It was hard to judge whether he was making any progress, but the general feeling he got was of stumbling and scrambling on the same spot without getting anywhere. Frustration was mounting within the black goat/unicorn and he let out a long, angry bleat that did nothing but allow himself some venting.
Chaos reigned all around him. There were clappering hooves, bleats, tumbling rocks and the searing heat of fire, and through it all someone shouted for a change of direction, and Morir hadn't the faintest idea where he was placing his feet. This whole idea was starting to seem a foolish venture - what the heck was he doing in a race full of seeing, why was he even there, what was he doing? It must have been one of his more idiotic decisions, on par with joining Confutatis and letting Thranduil escape with his life. He would end up regretting this for sure, he would slip and fall and the crows would get a feast off his rotting carcass and no one would ever question why he had disappeared because no one - perhaps with the sole exception of Sheba, and she wasn't exactly the most trustworthy of souls - knew him to be there at all.
It was uncharacteristic for the normally so confident stag to loose heart, but even as he veered to the left and kept stumbling on through the never-ending darkness he could feel desperation turn into despair and weigh on his heart. It slowed him down, it would likely make him loose even more ground to those light-footed and strong and seeing but he couldn't bring himself to care.
What did it matter anyway?
__________
WC: 279
Ooc: Morir goes LEFT
chaoticmelodies & larfsalot @deviantart | subtlepatterns.com
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