Bound for trouble from the start
I've been walking through this old world in the dark
Cress is a survivor success story. She has lived, she has loved. He, on the other hand, is a perpetual victim. Unable to overcome and rise above his station. They had all suffered tremendously at the Dark God’s hands but his torment and abuse had started much earlier than most of theirs. He and misery were old friends, constant companions. As for running from his problems, he was an old hand at that too. Her calls would have fallen on deaf and panicked ears. Even Magnus couldn’t help him. He was a danger to himself and others after what Carnage had done. It didn’t matter though how far he ran or where he went. It didn’t matter how many years he spent away from the source of his nightmares. They say time heals all wounds but he knows that this is a bald faced lie. Time heals nothing, it only festers and infects.
The stallion is barely surviving. He drifts from day to day. When he had returned back to Beqanna the first time, he had managed to somewhat pull himself together from his past. Trying to be part of a productive society, taking better care of himself. Flesh had started to cling to his bones, they started to say he looked like his father’s son. Carnage soon followed, it knew that the man’s vague attempt of happiness was brittle and easy to break. He knew that he deserved only pain and heartbreak. So the stallion withered away after such a brutal beating. There was no love, no warm pair of eyes to gaze adoringly at him. No seductive words or soft caresses. No children to live vicariously though, to see childhood as it should have been. Not like he could have been a great father when he hated himself so thoroughly.
He has always been lost. Drifting. Wandering. It’s funny how these vagabond gypsies seem to always find their own. The lost ones, finding solace in each other because only they can truly know what real sorrow is. In the autumn winds, his frail body seems to sway. Dull gold flecked eye staring unseeingly into the open distance at nothing in particular. He is often like this now. Deep down he knows he may not see another spring, in no shape to survive a harsh winter. Already the air is cool enough it makes his skeletal frame shiver. He barely eats or drinks, god knows he rarely sleeps. Deep down he thinks to himself he is too far gone and worse, he doesn’t care anymore.
When he had left the Mountain after receiving only silence from the fairies, he had thought that had been it. The bear he figured would go back to hibernation but instead it remains awake. The Mountain had answered after all and decided to return the curse upon him. He had hoped for an explanation, a more definitive answer. Instead he left with his bear roaring with hunger and more questions then he had before. He feels a little more complete though, now that it’s back. He knows it’s what’s keeping him alive at this point, just barely. It’s a part of him now, just like the hollowed socket where his right eye use to be. Just like the constellation that winds across his hindquarters in sick mockery of the stars. He is nothing without the torment inside him and it just happens to take the form of a snowy white predator.
It takes him a moment to register her in his sight, no longer just another hazy thing in the distance. He remembers them all, not by name, merely by the terror written across their face. Although the cave had been dark and their cells had been separated, they could still catch glimpses of each other. ”I remember you…” He murmurs thickly, unsure if he’s hallucinating. Truth and reality constantly blur within each other. ”I remember your screams…”
Ledger
@[Cress]