02-28-2018, 11:05 AM
The shadows split like a madman´s smile as Khaedrik wound through the underbrush of Hyaline. Vile, he was, in the morning light. There was beauty in him once; as all children are beautiful; glory in the cant of his head. Not today though; today he was wrought of sickness and delusion. Underfed and dirty. He walked, stumbling almost, dazed by the sunshine that filtered through the laced canopy. It caught in his dark eyes and he shuddered, while the birds and skies watched on, appalled. Where once there was sweet song, now there was only quiet, and suddenly, the hushed but hurried panting of Khaedrik as he slid to a halt, calling forth his shadows from whatever unholy corner they were hiding in. He needed something to take the edge of his restlessness – drum-beat in his veins.
Behind the shadows of his beetle-black eyes, there was still the last trace of innocence, a strange light, a bleeding one that constantly churned and pulsated. His mind; a world of clay and taut convulsion cannot make sense of these things; the world and where he belongs in it. Sin, and not sin. Shadows and light. But he tries, oh, he tries. His salvation from his own head comes in the form of a smell; faint and alluring – unknown to his sensitive nose, and there is a hopeful glimmer of interest in his eye.
He comes to her on a whirlwind of shadows. One moment she is alone; and the next they are standing before her. The colt and the wolf; darkness-spun and terrible. His head tilts to the side; curiously, as he offers a simple “hello” in greeting. The yellow-eyed wolf snarls in return.
@[Ilma]