09-26-2016, 09:58 AM
and lord, I fashion dark gods too;
He is a god, not a king.
Kings are full of responsibilities – leading, guarding, greeting. Kings should speak to all of them, kings should recruit, should fortify the land. Kings should build ranks.
He does none of this.
It’s strange, almost mystifying, being back in this thrall – he is used to being on his own, at least most of the time. He spends his immortality wandering, burning, finding new places. He spends it in the stars, timeless, comes to them wrapped on constellations and colors, seeds the land with his brood. His legions.
But he had done this, created this land in his own sick defiance, and he is tied to it, at least for a while. Which means he must be a king. Or something like one.
(He is a much better god than he is a king.)
He knows the girl who comes – she is one who pledged to him, and who stayed – but he does not know the girl at her side. She is new. Good.
(He should be out there. He isn’t. He has no time for such things.)
He overhears her - he takes and breaks all that he touches - and he grins.
The taker and breaker walks up to them, dips his head in greeting.
“Speak of the devil and he will appear, you know,” he says, but it’s through a smile. He looks to the new mare.
“Hello,” he says, “I’m Carnage.”
c a r n a g e