#his construct

It was as if when I looked into his eyes I was standing alone on the edge of the world... on a windswept ocean beach. There was nothing but the soft roar of the waves.

-Anne Rice

Through the dark and dreary forests of Tirisfal he traversed until coming upon his most perfect creation laying in a heap where he was left, but not forgotten.  Glacial gaze staring up towards the canopy of trees focused on nothing, all semblance of life beyond death ceased, leaving behind the bloodied and stained vessel.  Appearing so weak and powerless although those dead eyes could still pierce a soul should one catch even the faintest of glimpses.  Body no longer carrying any hint of warmth, just frigid and dead flesh covered in murky essence, left behind to rot in a mossy grave.

Father kneels before his child, pressing a plated finger to inky lips without any trace of sadness in his gaze, only an expression of pride and adoration towards his beautiful Construct.   Hood and mask lowered in reverence before bending to brush ashen lips to ichor-stained ones in an affectionate gesture and gift only known by the very few.  

“You serve me well, my perfection.”  Whispered words growled against the plush tiers before slowly withdrawing, only to scoop up the frail form within massive arms, cradling creation against creator in a gentle hold.  Remaining for longer was unwise as the priestess would shortly return with help in tow.  A shroud of shadows engulfs their forms as both Knights dissipate into the encompassing darkness, accompanied by faint whispered words:

“Wake up.”

theconstructsworld sylrissa-ooc laceandhalos