05-22-2018, 02:20 PM
Khaedrik has dreams; dreams of destruction and bright-eyed death.
His vision fade to red. Her body is mangled. Her eyes are sightless. He watches as the blood pool around her congeals. The Dreamwalker is dead. It is his fault. The mighty wave has fallen. The shadows call a mournful note, no longer laughing, no longer joyous. Even they respect this. Khaedrik’s khol-black eyes throb and close. He will lock his emotions away. The Brother is no more. Love cannot be worth this.
All is dead. All is gone. Khaedrik rises. Khaedrik moves on.
Khaedrik stirs. He feels light. His bitter-black eyes open. All he knows is gone – but he will not forget. He will never forget. Even the sucking blackness of sleep did not let him forget. He is still deranged; he is still the son of shadows and ruin. His golden forelock falls over his black, black eyes in an impossible way and he is still impassive. His emotions remained leashed. He remembers what they taught him.
The breeze on his face; the soft pad of earth beneath his hooves; the blaze of sun in the sky at noontime; the cool shadows all sing purpose to his bones.
He forces the shadows from the dark – and they, crude and nebulous pool at his feet – looking to their Master for guidance.
”To Hyaline” he commands – though he doesn’t know why. Khaedrik, self-proclaimed misanthrope has no business there among the rabble of horses – too much time has passed since he called Hyaline home. But something begs him to go today; and his eyes open wide to the sky – but he does not speak. The shadows will know. They always do.
He comes to her in a swirl of darkness – and it is not a ghost his shadows find but a memory. There is pain – wild and relentless in the boys’ eyes – and he swallows, swallows, swallows until he chokes on it.
"How are you alive?" his voice; shadow-smooth and coated in darkness is a lash in the silence.
@[Kagerus]