I'm a mouth that doesn't smile
I'm a word that no one ever wants to say
Freedom was a beautiful thing – a promise of unbent horizons and stretches of time where you answer to no one. Isn’t that what every curious child wanted? The possibility of everything, the possibility for more. Eight knew very little for wanting freedom – what he wanted, he took. But how interesting it must be to be so young again – so new to the world, where the tickle of wings is a delight to your soul, and the rush of wind through the swaying grass is like a harmony to your mind. What last tickled Eight’s little soul? (Well, perhaps a victory in battle – but even that was a bitter taste in his mouth.)
Eight watches from the high craggy rocks as you frolic throughout the lower field of the Valley – content to giggle and reveal in your momentary liberty. Your golden body compliments the autumnal colors perfectly – a champagne dash of life among the land’s dying foliage. Children were such interesting things – it was rare that he bothered to interact with them, and when he did – it was only to lead them to foolishness and pain. Not quite the man you may want to be stumbling into on this fine day.
He should have been content to withdraw back to the Valley forest in which he normally stayed – hunting the land like a predator for any threat or danger. But his victory over Yael had stirred some sort of life inside of him – and he thought that perhaps his decade of lurking should come to an end. Why not get to know the little things that he was guardian of?
While Eight would have enjoyed taking to the skies and soaring throughout the cool air – his bout with Yael had left him with a nasty fractured wing. And while a bit of magic could fix that right up – what’s the sense in battling if you only need to pansy your wounds? So instead – he eked some magic out of his bones and appeared silently, yards away from you.
“Won’t mummy and daddy be missing you, Despoine?”
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