Ā Ā Ā THE WIGHT STOPS at the weight on his leg. cold, blue eyes ( once a deep brown, once filled with so much melancholy, once who feared the blueĀ ) gaze upon the man⦠it is his CREATOR. he can recognize him by his awful stench, by the hatefulness in his heart. wights are more than just the undead⦠he grabs his blade, keeping silent. they did not even acknowledge his last request⦠he RAISESĀ the sword, a cry leaving his lips, loud and inhuman ā echoing in the snowy forest. die, die, ye who have doomed me to this fate.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā he grabs the meat bag by the throat quickly, violently, and plunged his sword into the enemyās heart. justice. justiceĀ for DOLOROUS. he rips the blade upward, making sure his target is dead. the wight stares down at the bloodied corpse, the red mixing beautifully with the snow⦠justice⦠justiceā¦