08-26-2015, 08:42 PM
In my mind, I'm running round a cold and empty space
One of Abaddon's favorite forms (and there had been many) was a horse, large like Belgarath was with hooves that were indeed good for all of those things. Abaddon had thought it amusing to shrink Zurry tiny, pretend as if he were going to stomp him to dead. Abaddon had been unlimited in his magical ability to cause terror. So many times it had been dreaming or something like this where he had found his family dead, or leaving him, bleeding and then he was dying, fighting against monsters he could not win against until his own blood was mixed with theirs. And failure swamped him, he had not been enough, never been enough, never been able to keep them safe.
He had failed. Over and over. Of course Master had never given him a sporting chance. And then when those dreams had stopped getting a response, when Zurry had started to shut down and blank out, dying without screaming or looking even towards the ground where Drowling and Dara was, Master had given him other things.
Dreams and visions of normalcy until Master had woken him up with a steely smile. 'Sleep well?' He had asked, until Zurry had wept and wept, the sobs curling him into a ball. Then he had been human.
So many different ways to torture Zurry's soul until he was broken, splintered into pieces he didn't even know how to put back to together again.
Intimidation didn't work at first on Arzhur, his legs might had wobbled but it was from the poor shape of his body, not from the fact that Belgarath would probably almost kill him. That he did not know this was real and Belgarath was really there, something alive that Master wouldn't heal him and start all over again. However, Belgarath was fooling himself if he thought that Arzhur would speak about this to anyone. No one would know what he had went through, what he continued to go through, even if the shadows in his eyes were the darkest that they had ever been.
Arzhur's eyes kept a wary glance on the stallion. "You already know my name." He says with a cold laugh, his hooves sliding backwards again even as the stallion continues to come closer. Arzhur knows he is at a disadvantage, knows that he won't be able to fight or run or anything that would provide him with something. In fact, Belgarath would be sorely disappointed in his ability to fight back. "Take your tree. I'll find another." He says, his limbs pausing, but he doesn't turn away from the larger stallion, knowing that to turn his back on him would certainly be his death.
He wonders how it will happen this time. Will he freeze to death? Will this ice demon freeze the blood in his veins, choke the air in his lungs as they freeze? Will he simply beat him, stomp him until there is nothing but body matter? Either way, Zurry knows that this will take another piece of his soul, take another piece of him that he won't be able to put back together. He didn't know how.
He had failed. Over and over. Of course Master had never given him a sporting chance. And then when those dreams had stopped getting a response, when Zurry had started to shut down and blank out, dying without screaming or looking even towards the ground where Drowling and Dara was, Master had given him other things.
Dreams and visions of normalcy until Master had woken him up with a steely smile. 'Sleep well?' He had asked, until Zurry had wept and wept, the sobs curling him into a ball. Then he had been human.
So many different ways to torture Zurry's soul until he was broken, splintered into pieces he didn't even know how to put back to together again.
Intimidation didn't work at first on Arzhur, his legs might had wobbled but it was from the poor shape of his body, not from the fact that Belgarath would probably almost kill him. That he did not know this was real and Belgarath was really there, something alive that Master wouldn't heal him and start all over again. However, Belgarath was fooling himself if he thought that Arzhur would speak about this to anyone. No one would know what he had went through, what he continued to go through, even if the shadows in his eyes were the darkest that they had ever been.
Arzhur's eyes kept a wary glance on the stallion. "You already know my name." He says with a cold laugh, his hooves sliding backwards again even as the stallion continues to come closer. Arzhur knows he is at a disadvantage, knows that he won't be able to fight or run or anything that would provide him with something. In fact, Belgarath would be sorely disappointed in his ability to fight back. "Take your tree. I'll find another." He says, his limbs pausing, but he doesn't turn away from the larger stallion, knowing that to turn his back on him would certainly be his death.
He wonders how it will happen this time. Will he freeze to death? Will this ice demon freeze the blood in his veins, choke the air in his lungs as they freeze? Will he simply beat him, stomp him until there is nothing but body matter? Either way, Zurry knows that this will take another piece of his soul, take another piece of him that he won't be able to put back together. He didn't know how.
Just put your arms around me, tell me everything's OK.
Arzhur