go to hell for heaven's sake
He is a message.
A message from the very fiery, depths of hell itself.
He is carved and manipulated by the very essence of darkness. Fed by the lies of the devil himself to whisper into the innocent ears. A wickedness is planted within the very black, hollowed heart of his. He is a servant to his master, bent to serve to his will alone, and driven to bring anarchy and devastation.
“Go,” he had told him, down into the world. A purpose already driven into the blank slate of his mind. It grew like a wildfire in him already, driven by his internal instinct wholeheartedly. He drives forward into the world, brand new and already tainted by sin itself, with already a purpose.
Sinner is what they call him.
He is an omen, a force that should not be reckon with. The message had been clear when he was born into the world that is torn by good and evil. His earthly father already knew exactly what the message was. It read it off Sinner, born in the form of a hellhound: The darkness was coming. It had not forgotten the poor old, Rodrik.
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He roams, instantly on the hunt for someone or something. It does not matter because he is not bonded by earthly duties and moral codes. There is no moral code that he upholds to in this earthly world. He is simply a beast and follows the order—his purpose—he was given from the day he was forged from the fiery flames of hell.
These lands are foreign and new to him. Yet, he reaps and sows within them already. Learning of this and that as he goes. Pangea is already in the background days ago. He does not feed upon milk—not when mother nature twisted and turned him to feed upon flesh. When he is hungry you will know.
Her high pitched cry is heard.
He answers her call.
No matter if she had wanted him or not, he comes regardless of being received by her or anyone else. He will not be turned away, not so easily by the likes of earthly fools. Sinner comes to her in earthly form. He is simply a young colt, also born nearly days ago. His dark bay coloring glistens like he is made of pure and good things in this world—like love and caring—on this warm, sunny spring day.
“What are you crying about,” he bashes her with a tone that is mocking and ruthless. A sinister smile curls up on his dark lips. His eyes glisten with amusement and mischief.
@[Sapphire] @[Jia]