04-13-2017, 01:30 PM
hellbane
It's always the same, I'm running towards nothing again
Coming back, going away; all things intermingled and without purpose. It’s the grand middle of things that determines one’s life. What have you done with your time, they’ll ask you. What is it that you do? Pointed, barbed little questions that peck incessantly in Hellbane’s mind and keep him out long after the rest of Beqanna has given into sleepless dreams. But out here, under the expanse of sky that seems the same after everything else has changed, there’s still restless creatures like himself seeking, hungering, searching for that purpose to their existence.
One in particular catches his eye.
The shadowy figure isn’t long in being joined by another, (they never are, are they?) but Hellbane isn’t deterred and he won’t change course now that he’s practically on top of them, easing to a peaceful stop somewhere between them. Besides, he’d come to the Meadow with a plan in mind - what was it to him if he sidetracked one evening to the Field? The worst that could happen was rejection and that had always been an easy thing for the bay-and-forest green stallion to handle. Easier than other things that had already happened to him, to his twin. He pauses, glancing up to the heavens where they both seem to be admiring the nights display, and thinks about Mortal with a pained longing.
“They call me Hellbane,” He begins, hoping he’s not so awkwardly late to the game that the two have already made arrangements, “and I hope I’m not interrupting.”
One in particular catches his eye.
The shadowy figure isn’t long in being joined by another, (they never are, are they?) but Hellbane isn’t deterred and he won’t change course now that he’s practically on top of them, easing to a peaceful stop somewhere between them. Besides, he’d come to the Meadow with a plan in mind - what was it to him if he sidetracked one evening to the Field? The worst that could happen was rejection and that had always been an easy thing for the bay-and-forest green stallion to handle. Easier than other things that had already happened to him, to his twin. He pauses, glancing up to the heavens where they both seem to be admiring the nights display, and thinks about Mortal with a pained longing.
“They call me Hellbane,” He begins, hoping he’s not so awkwardly late to the game that the two have already made arrangements, “and I hope I’m not interrupting.”