#scionsect

/knife.

“ COME, OLD CHAP, don’t work yourself too hard -- twelve know what happens to those who do that. ” a half - second grimace polished his features as he reminded himself of lahabrea’s influence, though he soon regained his lively demeanour as he clapped the other on the shoulder. “ let me buy you a drink; and don’t tell me you haven’t the taste for it or I’ll surprise you with something FOUL. ” thancred could not even remember the last time he had spent any time alone with the ever elusive urianger, though neither of them were to be blamed. the last time either of them had been given any amount of time to sit back and enjoy themselves had been far too long ago. 

   “Ah, another youngling of this new era. Greetings. Fret naught. Unlike those thy have met of thy people I cannot say I share their same ideals on yours.” The ancient elder’s voice was a soothing echo between them as he spoke. 

   Cast off into that sanctum, that heavenly abode where his eyes would be shield from the horrors of the outside realm. Not that Unukalhai had not seen the worst. For his very home had turned into a pale horse wrecked with demons and never ending void. Nay, it was to hide the truth, hide the visage of this self. This blood bathed armor tinted red of those slaughtered by he and him before.

   He would not subject Unukalhai to such blasphemy. To such blood that would drop from his blade and the bones that broke between his teeth as he cleansed his hands of red and watched as it stayed. Shameful? Nay. But a blood soaked hand would surely taint the white Unukalhai bore. And a crown prince has nothing to give to a boy. The skin had to fit, and this hunter could not shield away Unukalhai from whispering secrets of Garlemald. Much less deafen his ears to the father. 

RULES  :  repost &  fill  in  with  the  words  you  most associate  with  your  character.

ANIMAL  :  Dragonfly.

COLOUR  :  Pale turquoise. 

MONTH  :   September.

SONG(s)  :  Hold - Built for the Sea ( Hydaelyn @ her in HW, I mean... ),  Olafur Arnalds - Happiness Does Not Wait and Samuel Barber - Agnus Dei. 

NUMBER  :  3.

DAY  OR  NIGHT  :  Day.

PLANT  :  Calla lily.

SMELL  :  Meadow.

SEASON  :  Late autumn.

FOOD  :  Fresh fruit.

ASTROLOGICAL  SIGN  :   Libra.

ELEMENT  :  Water.

DRINK  : Spring water.

       Staff’s weight mattered little; even in full swing / even mid-cast / even if muscles seemed sore & waves of fought opponents unyielding. One could never make out details, could neither recognize shape nor form / she felt their presence, distorted energy twisting beyond steady feet; pulsating, aching, SCREAMING in the back of heavy head. -- aye, deem it a pointless endeavor, call it redundant if you wish & yet it was all the two of them had left next to their very company. -- cue the abrupt ascent of left, steady hand [its tremor kept a secret] to extinguish what wrathful spell-casting had wrought. 

this is why you couldn’t inhabit the same body you’re both bottoms

   There was a time, even recently, that such options were considered. In his weakness, where the soul had become weary of the long battle wrought, he thought to live by himself. As he beheld Unukalhai and watched his suffering and still childlike innocence blossom upon turning to a new world it let his heart become soft and yearn for a time simpler. To follow as Emet-Selch had once done in Garlemald’s birth, to settle. Even if that decision was made to assure the salvation of a star, planned carefully and methodically, there was still something about Emet-Selch that Elidibus envied. Perhaps not to sire children, or not to have such a dysfunctional family, but to have something so close to that. These small fantasies to live beyond this life. To be free of the burden of the truth. 

   And in those wildest fantasies that he so dreamt in his waking nightmares, where memories of the city long destroyed burst into flames, they too died. For his tempering. For his sins. For the two that had been with him for eternity (and those had been so changed and warped from their survival, could they even be the same person? could he?). It was all it ever would be. Fantasy. Want. A lust for the end of the long road. He made it too far to choose another path. Yet as he stood here staring down Urianger, within him there cried that long forgotten self. Emotions he’d never let bare, even if he so wanted to tear deep into his chest and rip apart those ribs to let them free. But the mouth shackled, as too the hands. Only to dance for the puppet and puppeteer of his God. 

   “In another life. Another time.” Had he learned to grieve the lost of all. But what coping could he have been received by two others whom chased their tails in the burden of grief. One of anger. The other of denial and bargaining. As he too wallowed in depression and guilt. 

   Fools go aimlessly hither and tither, like blind leading the blind. 

   Had he learned to love and let go. Had he found companionship earlier. The silent cries of his soul. And now desperation seethed.

   “The past yet still live on. In mine dreams, and too in these reflections and souls. I see it before me and all around in you and yours. Must I pluck mine eyes and lose my senses before I could live content in this broken path. For around me I see both the person and a soul which lingers.” To forget what souls face back at him. To close his senses and body. It is one thing to be uplifted. Another to fall from grace and turn from an angel to the devil.