i’ve been both a saint & a viper
It is not often he breaches out from beyond the solid depths of darkness and stone of his cavern; he has become sensitive to light with his days and nights spent down in the bottomless pits of dark and twisting catacombs, thus making it a true feat to push through the deep green of the vines that frame the mouth of the cave and out into air that does not hang heavy with must and rot. But there are some nights when the whispers push him towards the yawning mouth, where others roam, coaxing him away from the comfort of his choking shadows. Nights much like this: where the moon is new and hidden amongst the pitch blackness of sky, where the trees and their long branches weave together to even darken the stars from the mortal’s eye.
Like a shadow of a ghost he fumbles through the forest, blue mottled skin stretched thinly across bone with dark eyes sunken and nearly unseeing. He attempts to pick at the moss and fungi that grow sporadically through the forest floor, in between thick roots that trip him as he meanders. They only allow him enough to sustain himself, never enough to feel truly satisfied.
He is drinking from a murky puddle, slurping loudly while the chittering of his demons fill his ears, their whispers and shadows draping him in a hellish picture only he would see and hear, reminding him that night does not last forever and soon he would be forced to return to his cave. The wind against his dull skin makes the stallion shiver, wondering to himself if he were to just stay here in the forest and to wait until daylight takes him away. They are quick to remind him, as always, that this was not an option.
You’ll never die.
Their dastardly purrs are drowned out by the sound of a very real noise - branches snapping beneath the weight of a stranger, causing the stallion to pull his attention from the shadows only he can see. As his crystal gaze lifts upwards he realizes that he is the one that is moving and it was his hooves that he had heard. He does not know why he is suddenly drawn to a place before him that seems to glow with life and as he persists through the darkness of the thicket, they pull at his skin and champ at his ankles, set on discouraging him from moving forward.
The smell of cherry blossoms fill his dark nostrils, his eyes settling on her with little emotion on his jaunt face. The forest goddess, who knew him before insanity plagues him like it does now, stands before him with the same wide and curious eyes he remembers. She looks the same - beautiful, gentle, peaceful - and he is like a moth drawn to her proverbial flame. He creeps towards her with questioning eyes that come alive in her soft glow, a rattling breath leaving his dark mouth. Kill her. She isn’t safe here, but this time he cannot find the words to warn her.
“Do you remember me?” His voice is grating and rough against the gentleness of night, coming to halt and swaying uneasily before her as he feels the warm breath of one of the demons licking its jaws beside his head.
Kill her.
Balto
@[Nikoline]