12-07-2016, 11:56 PM
When he had first taken his gift back from the faeries, he had grand plans of using the power to use them to manipulate politics in his father’s favor. He had intended to use them to bribe, to threaten, to lure others into supporting his father in his ascent to power over Pangea. That had, however, turned out to be unnecessary. The cosmic god who had dipped his hand down into the murk to carve out the wasteland had seen in his father’s heart and deemed it worthy of his own merit. He had handed it over without protest.
So Bruise had, instead, turned toward culling favors among those who would seem useful in the future. Some, like Violence, were grateful, if not wary; he felt he could know what to expect from her, although there was nothing predictable about the way she lifted bone from earth and ravaged his mind. On the other hand, there were those like Nier who had, of all things, tried to harm him after he had gifted his powers back to him. Bruise still burned with anger when he thought of the close call that kick had been.
Regardless, there were now three horses drifting around Beqanna who owed him a favor.
Now, he just needed to find the last one.
Personally, he detested the meadow. It was ripe with filth and overrun with the stench of too many commoners, but it served its purpose. If he was going to find the fifth and final piece of his puzzle, this would be where he would do it. Swinging his heavy horned head around, he watched with boredom as the horses milled about him. It was then that he saw her and his expression grew dark, mischievous.
Uprooting himself from his spot of rest, he made his way toward her, cloven hooves picking his way through the crowd with unnatural grace. “You look like something has been stolen from you,” he whispered when he was close enough for his voice to carry.
“What would you do to get it back?”
Bruise
head like a hole; as black as your soul.
@[Karsi]