01-13-2017, 11:04 AM
Kilte
R
Mind Over Matter
S
She is a barrier of life and death – She is the wall of conscience that divides Kilter’s history. She plunges herself before him, not shying away from the pain that Death aims towards her. He is an insignificant thing to be protecting. Why him? The devoid child of a magician and a Jurassic queen. Why had Death and the Angel chosen to step into his life? Why did Death want to give him a second chance? And why did the Angel warn him not to take it?
He is startled as the Angel falls before him, her dark body contrasting painfully with the snow, but she did not falter. She held no fear in her voice as she challenged Death, and Kilter slunk behind her with wide eyes – this was something unlike he’d seen before. Their voices carry spite and malice; each a flavor of their own. They each held battle for the little telekinetic life – but why? Kilter had never been wanted by anyone before – family or no. And now? Now here Death was tugging him one way, and his Angel warning him the other.
Kilter startles with a cringe as Death’s hoof finds purchase in his Angel – but she seems to pay it no mind, just as Death ignores her. Instead, Death speaks to him, of a home (something that Kilter had not had in far too long, or even ever, perhaps). Death’s warning is hurled towards the wolf child, and he steps back timidly, his eyes flicking to the Angel before him. Death had seemed so kindly to him at the start, and now his voice was tremoring with a bite – perhaps almost not even giving Kilter the option to say no.
And now Death turns to his Angel, so dark against the pallid ground. He marks her, and Kilter can almost taste the blood in his mouth as his Angel’s skin splits with teeth. But she was to come with them, Death said, to a place called Pangea.
Kilter steps forward, small and uncertain – how this afternoon did not quite align with what he thought would happen. Death is faced away from him, his wings lowered and his attention caught on the grounded Angel. Kilter speaks to him, his voice low to hide the tremble. “Then I will go.”
Kilter was not many things. He was not powerful like his father, he was not cunning like his mother- but he was gentle and kindred, like the man who had watched him from the woods. He steps beside Death, his body seemingly tiny beside him. “Come on, my Angel. He will show us the way. I will walk beside you.” He steps closer, his head lowered as if to lick her wounds, and whispers quietly “You will always be a part of Heaven.” For Kilter knew what it was like to lose the only place you felt like home.