01-14-2017, 08:22 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-17-2017, 08:02 AM by k i l t e r.)
Kilte
R
the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
T
here is life and there is death. There is Death and there is the Angel. There is choice, and there is coerce. There is so much, and so little, that the lupine telekinetic knows. There is Death before him, no longer giving him a path to choose - no longer is he a savior in the storm, but the creator. He is sharp, visceral, a force to be reckoned with. And his Angel - a light in the the storm, a blue blooded creature hell bent on saving, she remains the same. But Kilter is not sure - she is tense and tight when he moves to console her. She pulls back, as if his touch will elicit mortality. Her smile is like a thing of condolence - and Kilter takes it as an apology to his mortality. She can heal, her skin folding over itself, she does not need the tendings of a small child.
His head bows with shame- how could he not know that she possessed magic inside her? That she could dust herself off and carry on, her sails mended by the heavens. He was a fool. And still, she steadies herself and states she will walk. Her steps will fall next to Kilter’s, a guardian to death. As he steps back from his Angel, Death dictates his next move. Kilter is to go to Pangea - Death’s home. How strange, for Death to have a home, but we all must rest our head somewhere.
Kilter nods, almost monotonously - a machine following commands. And follow he does. His knowledge of Beqanna is miniscule - but there is a haunting in his head, Death’s voice echoes in his head, prodding his body along where Kilter falters. He is a puppet on strings, his feet placed before him one after the other to Pangea.
He routinely turns back, his eyes searching for his Angel - but she does not come. Death would not lie to him, would he? His Angel was safe, protected, an act from God. Death could not quell her, no matter their scraps of argument. She would come. She must come.
Time passes, slowly, a journey across the world - it seemed like. And finally, he arrives. Death’s voice resonates as Kilter crests the canyon - Pangea, boy. And Kilter begins the trek down into Death’s home.
eight and topsail’s timid telekinetic