06-08-2018, 07:13 AM
Khaedrik – of nightmares and madness; whose shadow incessantly hummed in a susurrus of misery, who wears a cloak of ash and unpredictable, unfathomable paradox. And even so, there is still hope bubbling shamelessly somewhere in the cusps and crevices of his consciousness, as if he is unknowing of the chaos and the nightmare that cling like tar to his name. And ill-clad vagrant who is lacking meaning to follow and inspiration to exist as anything other than an extension of his beloved shadows.
Khaedrik is a study in gold and shadow-like nuances that begin to form and ruthlessly come into substance in the snake-like tangles of his mane and unfold like tar and ash over his croup. And there´s the shadows that stretch into ghouls by his hooves, these monsters that murmur in the dark. This, and the haunted look in his khol-black eyes is enough to send a shiver of unease down the spine of anyone that would happen upon the boy alone.
Perhaps that is why he comes – swathed in some shadow-mystery, one minute they are alone and the next he is there, to stand next to his sister. He is the splotches of musky earth on her skin – the dark to balance out the ivory-white. His shadows pool around their feet – wisps of smoky, ominous darkness. Khaedriks turgid eyes turn from father to son to bright-colored lover. So this is the family. A motley group – thrown together only by circumstance, he thinks, and there is the shadow of a smile on his lips. Perhaps here he is not so out of place.
Khaedrik’s breathes a husky hello - perhaps he is an unwelcome sight in this misnomer of family reunion, but he ignores it. ”I am Khaedrik” he offers, stiffly, and then to the boy that shares his blood ”your uncle.”
Better to speak before that lion’s maw of insecurities swallow him whole.