If I Had A Heart...

Swaying movement would form a silvery crease upon the ghoul?s vision; the unfolding perfection of the marble wash seemingly tainted by the presence of a wavering figure, encompassed by the brilliant gold?s that surrounded him. Tragically bored, the former King?s nostrils would quiver, skull lifting as slender limbs would usher him forwards; it was Drashiel. The boy?s tongue had been foul at the meeting, maladroit and about as waste-infused as Isardis had ever heard one of his children speak, though he had spared the wrath of his disappointment, satisfied that the boys intentions had been high.

Oh how ill health had managed to splinter his bones and peg his toes, fever had stained his mind and caused brash decisions that would forever haunt Glaciem, whether Athena attempted to heal it or not. Though the people were thriving, Isardis couldn?t help but feel despair; a loss for the legacy he had created. The smog had left his intellect when the sickness faded, ruby gaze as highly defined as at were in his younger years, his physical vigour and his determination as immense as ever. So why was he not a King? Alas, within his critical boredom the monster sought the company of the boy without hesitation.

Though Isardis had never been one to bother with the emotions of others, it did not take a psychologist to feel the tension of the youth causing static within the atmosphere that encumbered him; the air that hovered his flesh was no longer a blessing, but a strangling suggestion of his emotional weight. Approaching the boy heedlessly from behind, Isardis would seek to waltz by his spawn?s side at a similar pace, lips flickering with the temptation of humour, ?Even the gods would hear the weight of that sigh, boy,? lungs shuddered as he chuckled weakly, ?What ails you??