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01-01-2015, 07:11 PM
The adventure was becoming more traumatic, more demeaning, than enlightening: death in swarms, in fumes, in brambles and thorns, corroding, condemning, and suffocating. Seemingly everywhere they looked was one more body, one more frame, one more structure demolished and destroyed, and his inquisitive mind couldn’t understand to what end, to what purpose. His father forged demise and quietus to protect his herd, to defend himself, to be a beast, a monster, an ogre, and each triumphant glimmer of his power was awe-inspiring in its pernicious assaults; but this, piles of the forgotten, the damned, the dismayed, felt utterly meaningless. As he wandered amidst the wavering crowd, along the stoked, refined shadows, the motive was even more defeating and aimless; for there, laying amidst stones and pebbles, rubble and ruin, crystals and shards, was a boy. Though he dared not to tread any closer, the lad couldn’t have been much older than himself, aloof, forlorn, abandoned in the grottos and catacombs of the unwinding caves, left to fester, rot and wither in the shades of despair. For once, he didn’t give in to the alms and balms of curiosity, and simply stewed, brooded, quiet and composed, in the still of the blundered oils. Someone had failed this child, someone had ripped him from a livelihood of contentment and potential, someone had taken, stolen, and absconded the future of the colt, and drilling, deep in the fathoms of Erebos’ mind, he became even more fueled and stoked. He clenched his jaw, chilled his machinations, toiled and foiled his movements into slinking, stalking ridges (saw the crystals, lying nearby, shattered, a clue, a salvation in fiend declarations?). They’d find this killer, this murderer, this demon, if only to salvage and save what little remnants and remains the boy had been forced to leave behind.
Team Musketeers! ^_^
Team Musketeers! ^_^
Erebos
Take just what I came for
