Bound for trouble from the start
I've been walking through this old world in the dark
He never dreams. When he does fall asleep, dreading the moment his eyelids close against his will, the nightmares ravage his mind and tear him apart. It had always been so and while now he was use to them coming… It didn’t make it any easier. So he barely slept which only added to the sunken features of his face. There was the potential to be handsome despite the missing eye and the scars, his grittiness apparently made him all the more appealing. There is something about a man that needs to be fixed that made them flock to him. They tried, they tried so hard. He could never be fixed. The other part of fate he had reluctantly accepted. There was no point in even trying.
She has feathers in her hair. They dangle and twirl lightly against her neck and he is entranced by them, dreamcatchers spinning in autumn tresses. How long has it been since he stood so close to another? He remembers Ilka's scream and the wounds across her chest. All because of her soft touch and concern. Regret rocks in the depths of his pale eye. It had been necessary to remove himself from society. It had been a lonely life. So very very lonely. Now though… He had more control. He could keep the bear at bay. He could at least stand in front of her without fearing he would hurt her. As long as he didn’t get angry. That had been Carnage’s true gift, more so than the magic he had stitched into the sinews of his skin. Anger was an emotion he had never been able to grasp or understand when he was younger, so miserable over his agonizing life. The rage made him feel less worthless, less weak. It made him feel.. something other than despair. And deep down even if he refused to admit it, he almost liked the way the fire burned his belly. It had been the most alive he had ever felt. It was shameful. It was dangerous.
A simple tilt of his head acknowledges her soft greeting and then the silence spreads between them. Most might be uncomfortable by the quiet including her. It’s not awkward for him for he and silence are old friends. The sun is slowly starting to sink as he turns the intact part of his face to survey the Meadows before him. Something has been off, the Meadow seems… Off. Different.
”Something’s not right…” His voice is husky and dark and it’s unclear if he’s looking for an answer or simply drifted off once more into his own haunted thoughts.
Ledger