a ghost in the darkness.
The ghost had always done things for his own benefit and nobody else’s. Selfish red eyed thing that he was, he had simply left them when he had grown bored of ruling. Bored of the simple minds behind thick skulls that could never see the bigger picture. So he allowed them to think him missing, think themselves abandoned, think that he had vanished. He watched as some lashed out vindictively in his absence (his favorite pet, the two-toned bluebird, seemed particularly unhappy with him) and others grew bold.
The Eclipse had called to him (darkness, shadows, and monsters) but he still held back.
Not yet, not yet.
It wasn’t till the spring, when magic played through the pile of bones that lay haphazardly amongst the dark shade of a red and yellow canopy, that the empty sockets seem to blaze back with a fiery hue of red. Now. Says something in the air, a whisper that curls around the exposed bones of his ribcage, that whistles through the bleached skull and intwines around femur and vertebrae. Come back. Come. Back.
As the skeleton walks, the world seems to wither from his touch. Leaves fall from the branches, shriveled and dry by the time his hoof crunches over them. The violent reds and golden yellows of the trees suddenly alight like tinder, the colors turning to actually flames. There’s no lungs to see but the bone man still seems to inhale deeply, this chaotic magic that flows through his bones, the crimson of his eyes dancing with the flames of the blazing woods above.
There’s new magic in these lands which means new things to discover. It’s been so long since he had picked up his scalpel and peeled them apart to see how they ticked, how their magic kicked into overtime or sputtered to a halt. It’s been so long since he broke them apart just to watch them bleed.
They had been quiet for too long, had grown stale and boring. A lot of bark and no bite for those that claimed to be wicked, claimed to thrive on violence, claimed to love chaos.
Nobody loved chaos more than the red eyed ghost.
Nobody understood chaos like Gryffen.
As the flames writhe around him, flickering amongst the open spaces of bone and air, his neck arches vertebrae by vertebrae and his jaws clack together, a resounding crack amongst the smoke and flames. He was back just in time to watch the world burn.
The Eclipse had called to him (darkness, shadows, and monsters) but he still held back.
Not yet, not yet.
It wasn’t till the spring, when magic played through the pile of bones that lay haphazardly amongst the dark shade of a red and yellow canopy, that the empty sockets seem to blaze back with a fiery hue of red. Now. Says something in the air, a whisper that curls around the exposed bones of his ribcage, that whistles through the bleached skull and intwines around femur and vertebrae. Come back. Come. Back.
As the skeleton walks, the world seems to wither from his touch. Leaves fall from the branches, shriveled and dry by the time his hoof crunches over them. The violent reds and golden yellows of the trees suddenly alight like tinder, the colors turning to actually flames. There’s no lungs to see but the bone man still seems to inhale deeply, this chaotic magic that flows through his bones, the crimson of his eyes dancing with the flames of the blazing woods above.
There’s new magic in these lands which means new things to discover. It’s been so long since he had picked up his scalpel and peeled them apart to see how they ticked, how their magic kicked into overtime or sputtered to a halt. It’s been so long since he broke them apart just to watch them bleed.
They had been quiet for too long, had grown stale and boring. A lot of bark and no bite for those that claimed to be wicked, claimed to thrive on violence, claimed to love chaos.
Nobody loved chaos more than the red eyed ghost.
Nobody understood chaos like Gryffen.
As the flames writhe around him, flickering amongst the open spaces of bone and air, his neck arches vertebrae by vertebrae and his jaws clack together, a resounding crack amongst the smoke and flames. He was back just in time to watch the world burn.
Gryffen
It's Chaos Week baby!