09-05-2018, 05:02 AM
The day has grown a humid moth: whimsy and fluttering against the stark morrow-light. And there lays Hyaline, sprawling at the whim of twilight and ambiguity; swathed in sterling and birdsong. Khaedrik tastes this, indifferent and khol-eyed as he comes - - a monster, a revelation of the twisted.
He weaves through the worlds like some sickly worm, bone-pale and aimless, not belonging anywhere. Dead-hearted, with shadow and smoke tendrils wound about his legs, like parasite vines. Hyaline´s bright-hot sun stings against fevered eyes. Burns prickly hot against his matted flesh, swathed in shadow and ruin. Hyaline was as becoming as ever, wrapped in the mystery of a new day and shrouded with the secrecy of its timeless passion. But Khaedrik is not astonished by this subtle beauty; adorning the back of every leaf and bated in the eyes of every soul that inhabits these lands. No, his eyes are set on the path he threads, and in his wake the shadows follow – yellow-eyed and terrible, as if every step he takes makes the world a darker place.
He is void-dust and stale apathy, but he is homeward bound and that is enough to smooth the edges of the void in his chest. He sends the wolf to find her; his queen of dreams, his unbending, unwavering sister. It does not move like a wolf would – but like a ghost of liquid smoke, blending in and out of the darkness. He trusts her to know who has come home for a visit as the monster finds her. There is a throb of guilt in his chest – a child’s mellow voice telling him that he should visit his other Hyalinian friends. How long since you spoke to Ilma, Solace, your nephew? But then he remembers her with asphyxiating clarity. He remembers, and the world falls apart.
Oh, part of him wishes for nothing more than to recoil into the tender gloom. Wrap himself in darkness and regret – but the other part, the greater part longs for the motley face of his sister.
But when she comes it is not the face he remembers so well and loves, but something twisted. His cold eternity-eyes trail across the scar that disfigures her beautiful face. It seems as though his sister has been maimed. For the most fleeting of seconds – his eyes dart to his own creature; a monster of shadow and sharp-claws. But the thought is instantly shed, his creations would never hurt her, she is his blood, and the wound is not fresh. His tormented eyes soften as they meet hers but his voice is steel and ice as he speaks
”Who should I kill for this?”
@[Kagerus] I thought they should have a new thread <3 since I am a shameless stalker I read about her scar, but let me know if you want me to change anything <33