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And the shadow of the day Will embrace the world in grey And the sun will set for you It had been so long since Abraham had been disturbed in the night. Many beings scoured the deep forest and his Rotunda during the hours of light and life, but at night, when everything was more dangerous, cold, and dark, all stayed away. He had fallen into that routine as well, though opposite the other daywalkers. Abraham roamed away from his castle during the day, hunting with his princess and discovering new things for himself. The Dauntless' prince had been given a keen eye towards the earth--he noticed when plants bloomed, how they spread, and what they did. He liked to discover new herbs to help, to aid, to restore; but, more so, he enjoyed finding new herbs to kill, to destroy, to ravish. He spent most of his day studying the flora, and his nights tucked in the tall structure, his Rotunda. Lifting his head, the darkling's mismatched eyes found movement in the hollow of the surrounding trees. Rousing his bondmate by moving forward, Abraham descended on the being. He stopped short, however, resting on the steps of his cell, as music strung out in the darkness. The sound was sharp on his ears, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The music is sweet and alluring, as if calling out to this beast that interrupted his sleep. Glowering, Abraham cleared his throat bruskly. His white serpent, elegant in her growing body and unmistakably dangerous, crawls up to rest on his poll, grasping his twisted, twin horns. Her jaws part, smoke gently rolling from her jaws as she hisses towards the winged boy. He is like him--a hybrid, a mutt, a contradiction. The stranger's body is strong--not as thick as Abraham's body, of his lineage, but still strong. His feet are not feathered, and his coloration is truly something strange in itself. But what Abraham focuses on is the two contrasting elements of the boy's features--the large wings that protrude from his shoulders, and the twin ram horns that curl away from his head and back down again. Abraham is like him. Gwyneverre should not be bonded to Abraham, by his appearance, but despite the horns that stand as erect weapons from his brow, he has equine blood flowing through his veins. Strong, able, Dauntless equine blood. Blood that cannot be defeated. "What is your business here?" Abraham snarls with a voice beyond his ears. The sound is thick, like molasses, but harsh and unforgiving. In this moment he wished for Reginald to be standing at his side, to be devouring this intruder with him. |
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
pixel by tamme
