05-11-2018, 08:43 PM
He had retreated into the darkness. Without any semblance of light to be seen, or anyone to remind him of what once was (of what was possible), the cave dweller finds himself more at home with the darkness than ever before. The darkness did not lie, the darkness did not abandon, the darkness accepts him. At one point, he had wanted the darkness to consume him entirely, but there is part of of him - however small the sliver - that clings to life. Perhaps it is mere selfishness that keeps him breathing, though. The demons still come like animals to his body to feast each night, awakening the blue stallion in a sea of sweat and hallucinations. When he awakes, fear no longer finds the blue of his eyes but anger - languid and pulsing beneath his quick and rapid breaths. He wonders, at times, if he is not fighting the demons but slowly becoming one of them as he prowls beneath silver moonlight, exploring the world just outside the familiar cave mouth. He has given up on her returning to him, but again there is that tiny part of him - just a tiny piece, that clings to the hope that she might find him again, that he could perhaps be saved. A trill of sound crackles through the dead and dying forest, capturing Balto’s attention. It is a sound that has grown familiar, and calls him back to the twisting shadows of their cave. His dark muzzle pushes the many brittle vines that have died in the winter’s cold, entering the cavern with a huff of vapor leaving his nostrils. “Faulkor,” he says evenly in greeting, his eyes darting quickly to the raven that sits guarding the cave, meeting its black and gleaming eyes with the blue of his own. once the king of beasts but now they feast on thoughts beneath his vacant crown |
@[Faulkor]