I had a dream that we were dead
and we pretended that we still lived
He remembers the rumbling and shifting of the earth, the way they had been snatched from their homes, their slumber or activity, and dragged to the newly crafted mountain to face judgement. He remembers the way it had felt, that magic, coursing through him and stripping nearly all that had made him unique.
In one sense, it had been a blessing. He is no longer an undead thing. His flesh is plump and full, not stretched tautly over protruding bones. His skin is soft and sleek, the black shiny with health and the gold shimmering even in the faintest of lights. No longer is his hair patchy and dull, lifeless in the way that undead things are. And his eyes, they are a pale shade of amber, not milky blue with death. In that respect, the entire trial had been quite worth it.
But gone is his gift of healing, his ability to bend the light to suit his whims. These losses ache, as though a limb had been removed.
A curse and blessing, this dramatic shifting change that had swept Beqanna. Especially for him. Jinn, the cursed and dichotomous son of an angel and a saint.
But at least now he knows what it is to be normal. It had been so very odd at first, but he has grown accustomed to it now. It has settled upon him like a plain cloak, old and comfortable. He does not terribly mind being plain after all.
So it is here, in the forest that plain, normal Jinn now resides. Where he takes slow, meandering walks through trees and leisurely naps in warm sunlight. His young life had been tumultuous enough. He deserves this. He deserves today, a time when he lean casually against a large oak in the midst of the riotous summer forest, eyes half closed in the way only those with no responsibilities can manage.
Jinn
undead son of Tiphon and Elysteria
@[~Sapphire~]
