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06-05-2013, 05:34 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-05-2013, 05:35 PM by Prometheus.)
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When the mare leaves my false image fades and I become myself once more. I am revealed to the ice king to be myself: nothing more than a rotting rag draped across crumbling bones. But I have strength, strength that is beyond what he might even comprehend. It becomes clearer to me that I am superior to the king of the plague and the basin especially now. His nervous mannerisms, his exhalations of relief, are not lost on me. Something more than myself has the appaloosa spooked, and I find it so terribly and amusingly disappointing. Emotion fails to play across my features as my lips stands stiff and stretched, tightly torn to barely cover the rotting, remaining teeth within my mouth. My beady eyes watch his movements acutely, my torn ears flick forth to lazily cup around the sound of his words. Oh, brother, how he can prattle on. Does one grow fat and lazy off the spoils of royalty? Does Mauja think he has earned this right, to ignore my request and instead regale me with his own, incredibly and lavishly boring life? No, I do not think this is the case. For I have ruled my own mind, and in my rotting heart, I have crowned myself lord of the undead, and yet I have stayed my course—steadied it, even. My selfishness is born of necessity, not luxury. My eyes roll as I turn away from Mauja and back to you, revealing black veins and releasing a small quantity of pus. I've no need to listen to this whining. "That's quite enough, little snow-angel," I sigh with a whispered hiss and a cold tone. He really is pathetic isn't he? I think to you as my eyes trace your almost graceful, feline figure. He's really nothing of who he once was. I rigidly lift my gaze to look at the taller shadow who stands before me and snort with disgust, slowly licking the blood which oozes out with my breath. "My, how much you've changed. Time was you'd be out on your crusade against inferior beings, waging war on any that dared step in your direction. And what are you now, Mauja?" The question is perhaps best left unanswered, but despite your suggestions I let myself go on. My lack of self control may be my flaw, but it would be a crime to let this dithering fool carry on uninformed. "Now you're running scared from a phenomenon of death. Did you not look me in the eye when you pierced my heart and I lived on? Why do you fear what you once regarded with defiance?" You've made your point. Perhaps, brother. But the coward must learn of his own incompetence. And so I continue, interrupted but not without thought. "Where is the war, Mauja? My brother and I have wandered too long in the wilderness, waiting for you and your kin to strike those who live in squalor beneath you. We've come not just to return to this home, this brotherhood, but to see it rise to power as it should." I stop my speech—let myself cough and shudder with the eternal illness that is death. You stand strong beside me, allow flames once more to lick your fur. We've nothing to prove to him, brother, I assure you. "But I see you've let the ice around your heart melt," I say with finality. My eyes are cold, my heart black. Let him feel the misery of his failure. Maybe he will chase me out, maybe. But he will know of the truth I speak. I will not let him stew in ignorance any longer.  |
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magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
