diseased
09-21-2013, 02:12 AM
Oh the torment the man had faced, the appalling events that had done so effortlessly to mar his once handsome form. He was but a mangled and torn parchment, scattered by the hungry spills of countless beverages and torn by the actions of clumsy fingers. He had been scrunched and tossed away, his body having faced such extremities it was a total wonder the creature were still breathing, functioning. His mind tainted only by injury, his lack of memory due to heavy concussions, and yet his sanity still managed to linger; barely hanging on by a frayed thread, dangling aimlessly in the breath of a toying wind. The silver would appear, and her scent would reach scarred nostrils; crawling his pipes and wandering about his troubled mind. He knew her; it would only take him a few moments to rediscover her name. Erani. She had been the woman he had sought revenge for, the silver queen he had found sprawled in a bloody mess before the confronting events that would occur barely hours later. But he wouldn?t bother them with her, no desire to cloud the beauties mind with guilt unless she so asked. She was aged now, though perhaps not as aged as he, still her femininity and regality would be apparent. And what of his brother? Had Cairo passed, or did he still wander the borders of his children?s land? He could expect no less. She would mutter his name and he would pause, wobbling slightly, a few metres before her twisting form, ?Yes, Miss Erani; if my wounded memory does not falter me,? he would gaze upon her with an empty void, and the relief he felt upon her discovery would be forced to contain itself behind closed windows. Next to arrive would be a girl, no, a woman. And a woman he would recognize. Though his memory were cluttered with missing pictures, darkened spaces, his brothers royal litter would be one he couldn?t forget. Though he did not know her name, he knew her face all too well, and oh how striking had she grown to be. She would ask his reasoning and tender him a seat, complying with the apparent queen he would thump awkwardly to his haunches, scarred features gazing upon her with his usual emotionlessness, twisted forelimb repositioning awkwardly beneath him. He had plenty to say, but respectfully he would answer her enquiry first, ?I know exactly who you are, Chrysanthe, though dare I say you have much changed since the last time I saw you,? his voice would rattle forth, rasped against his voice box, eerie, ?I am the brother of your father, Cairo. I had long ago promised him the protection and guidance of his children, ever dutiful to him as a great king, and as one not to forget such a commitment? I am unsure as to how long it has been precisely, but as you may have distinguished, I have seen great brutality upon my search for the new Valhalla, hence my apologetic delay to your family. I have come to fulfil the duty I had promised your father long ago, until my death.? A death that would be over-due, and very much welcomed. He had found his purpose once again, his requirements satisfied. |