12-21-2020, 10:03 PM
when all of hell is full, the dead shall walk the earth
For the first time in a long time, he found himself idle. Even in death he had found ways to occupy his time, but now there was only a vast stretch of nothingness that threatened to swallow him whole. The world continued turning on its axis, and yet there he stood, a silent sentinel surrounded by chaos. He had been given a brief taste of some semblance of action, when Straia had led him through the gates of death and asked for his help. But that had been short lived; Beqanna had a particular habit of bringing hell onto magicians who thought themselves more powerful than she. When Straia had been pulled into the chasms of the earth, he had turned and left, though the weight of doing nothing lay heavy on his scarred shoulders. It had never been in his nature to do nothing. He was a man of action firstly, and a loyal one secondly. To stand and watch the seasons bleed into one another...permanent death would have been kinder than mindlessly withering away.
The leaves falling from the tree drew little more than a glance from him. Downwards they went, some spiraling, others falling straight to the cold ground. He sighed, and it was a half disgusted thing. Disgusted that he had noticed something so trivial as the flight of the falling leaf. At this rate, he would have been better off wasting away in the fog of the afterlife. Dead men told very few tales, but the few tales were better than the shit tales told by the living. A dying sunlight shimmered through the broken canopy of leaves, and the cheerfulness of the oranges and golds seemed to mock him. Not that he was ever a cheerful creature; to the contrary, he made granite seem tender and mountains seem talkative. But even he needed a certain bit of social interaction to feel whole. A part of his stubborn equine psyche, perhaps, or a part of his actual heart; he wasn’t quite sure. Whatever the case was, the doldrums did not suit him. With another disgusted sigh he bled into the outskirts of the meadow, watching the world go by and regretting that he was not along for the ride.
Warship