[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by Severus on November 9, 2008, 5:07 pm, in reply to "FIXING UP THE MESS SOME DIPSH!T MADE" “What we need is hatred. “Other rogues? I have seen them wandering about,” the pale beast remarked noncommittally. Imagine if all of the rogues actually became well-acquainted with one another; then they’d have to be called a herd, much to the chagrin of the three kingdoms. How amusing that would be. He led Simon deep into the heart of the forest, effortlessly finding the way despite the enveloping fog. Severus had been this way at least twice now, and the forest was quite familiar after months of wandering about beneath the canopy. Severus gradually fell into step with the young Jaeger, their sides almost brushing with each stride. “Over here is my favorite place in the entire forest.” Before them a small clearing opened up – the clearing where Requiem had confronted him, and where he had later discovered the water shard in its icy tomb. The tomb persisted even in the absence of its charge. A small patch of earth in the center of the clearing, frozen solid, still bore the mark of the water shard’s forceful exit, and the leaves in the immediate vicinity still shimmered within an unnatural dusting of frost. Though it had all begun to crumble and erode, its mystique didn’t fail to draw Severus’ eye. He dropped back until his head was even with Simon’s shoulder and indicated the icy patch with a sweep of his muzzle. “This is where I met my closest companion…” And, with the young stallion thus occupied and the shard still whispering quiet reassurances through the quickly-fading mental link, Severus delicately bent his head sideways to quench his thirst on the thin trickle of blood that rolled down his shoulder from a stealthily-made wound. To Simon, it might feel like a grooming; to Severus, the bitter metallic taste was the world and more. The pale beast took only what he needed and then pulled his lips away, letting the cut seal itself into a perfect white scar. Dreamily, he asked, “What do you think?” Simon’s mind was once again his own.
71.170.123.38
From it, our ideas are born.”
- the wraith.
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