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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Touching Minds; for Alyth | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 12 2009, 08:31 PM (102 Views) | |
| Andromalius | Sep 12 2009, 08:31 PM Post #1 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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Night. The moon was high in the clear desert sky, and the gales of cold northern winds kept the weather coat-worthy. It was that time of the night when all day-walkers slept, and when those who lingered to watch the sky unfold its ebon wings were beginning to slide between the blankets. For the mage, such a clockwork schedule was impossible. He'd spent the last three days holed up in his tent, undisturbed as he regained his strength. However, now that he'd recovered, there wasn't really anything to do. His plans for world domination were laid out, everyone following their orders to the letter, and it would be a while before he would have to think about anything else. If only his men hadn't utterly destroyed the city. Why they did what they did, he could only chalk up to their reckless thirst for destruction, and that was why he was their Emperor. No other man could have the patience to launch an all-out campaign against the world. That was also the reason Sphynx remained along his side... The Banshee had to wonder. If he didn't have these plans, if he wasn't a great power, would she still linger with him? He knew the answer already, and it was a big fat 'no'. Sphynx didn't actually care about him, he knew. While it would be nice, he couldn't quite say he'd undoubtedly be able to return such affections. He would certainly try, but failure would be almost immanent. The Wicked peeked out from his tent at the surrounding area. Cold, indeed, and well-guarded... "Can I get something for you, My Lord?" one of the guards outside of his tent asked politely. Andromalius shook his head, "Orion is camping out at the brothel house, correct?" "Yes, Sir." "Hmm..." the Banshee's head disappeared back inside the temporary bedroom, where he flopped carelessly onto the expensive bed and buried his face in the mountain of pillows. He'd have likely done the same as Orion were he not already promised to his queen. Not that he didn't enjoy her company more than he would a whore, but he doubted Sphynx would be into cuddles like he knew he was. People didn't really like touching him, or being touched by him, which made any kind of act of physical affection difficult to come by. He didn't get relaxing hair-petting as much as he would like to. Oh hell, he'd probably have to stop by the brothel anyway before he left. How much would they charge for cuddles...? Andromalius rolled onto his back, folding his arms behind his head. All this thinking of sweet things made a particularly delicious candy enter his mind. Long locks, similar to his own, and a somewhat deceivingly frail, pale body, draped in white and red last he saw her. Little Alyth. Sammeln really thinks he can tease the Dark Lord with her like that? He was warned. Several times. Every warning went ignored, and he'd have to suffer the repercussions. Closing his eyes, his breath softened and grew shallow as he prepared his body for the spell. Ten minutes later, his body had grown numb and was fully prepared to enter its stasis. "Hello, Dear..." |
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| Alyth | Sep 12 2009, 09:04 PM Post #2 |
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Alyth lay along the comfortable window ledge in her room at Sammeln's palace. The sky was clear and heralded a moon that was large and bright. If only she could feel the wind on her face and smell the crispness of the evening she might be at peace. Yet the window was thick and could not open for her, no matter what she tried. There was no claw or chair that could break it so far, and she was not yet close enough for Sammeln to trust her with this, her one real vice. A book lay half open in her paw and several more scattered along the ledge. Still others lay about the room. If she could not leave physically at least she still had the sanctuary of her mind. Still...her mind had been a place of unrest. She was a prisoner, privy to details of war and destruction. It wasn't in her nature to seek battle, but she disliked watching it form beneath her nose. There was little she could do beyond sucking up to Sammeln in the hopes of escaping. Yet she abhorred the idea. Every time she touched his scaly hide it made her skin crawl. Sure he was dignified in his way, and powerful...but power had never had a large draw for her. There was something more to life than having dominion over others and other things. All the fine jewelry, dresses and perfume he lavished her with remained shut up in the bureau. Alyth couldn't help being attracted by the books and the paintings though. She had never seen so much magic before, captured in things so fragile and small. It gave her hope and appreciation for the people that created them. Each one spoke to her as poignantly as if she were present when they were created. How can he be so vile when he is appreciative of so many great things...how can he throw away the lives of those that built the empire he builds? Slowly she sat up and leaned back against some soft cushions in the corner. It was her favorite place in the palace, save for the library which she frequented. In a way it was lucky she was prisoner to such a person because it opened many opportunities. Unfortunately, most she was too stubborn to enjoy. With a small sigh she closed her eyes, thinking about all the things that troubled her. After a good restless hour she managed to slip into blissful sleep. Alyth dreamed she was sitting atop Sammeln's palace, staring out over his vast estate. The wind ruffled her black toga and her long hair. Both were stained red, as they had been in Ashoka, or as they would if she had died. The woods nearby were beckoning her, the night alive in her spirit. Her feet were dangling over the edge, almost as if ready to leap down and be free. Yet something held her back. It was as if she was waiting in Sammeln's place for a reason. The same reason she'd been sold there instead of the other fate that had awaited her. As the reason eluded her, Alyth's attention transferred to what could have happened. She could picture Andromalius standing over her, beautiful and ethereal in the light of the moon. His face was the last thing she'd seen before falling through the roof of a tavern in Ashoka. Something she would likely never forget...one of those things that has a strange way of staying with you no matter where you are. |
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| Andromalius | Sep 12 2009, 09:55 PM Post #3 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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He found himself walking through tall, jungle grass, and though one could not exactly feel dreams, the breeze here could have easily fooled him into thinking it was all real, right down to the dew collecting on his boots. Gazing up, in the distance, the moon hung on the other side of a girl in white, giving her a dreamy glow. She was wearing what he'd last pictured her in. Could it be that it was her subconscious alone dressing her that way? Or was it his influence... Andromalius reached up, clutching his hand over the girl and the moon she was blocking. From the top, a single drop of blood began to roll down the moon's pale and placid face. Then the blood consumed it, turning its cast red, as well as the glow around the girl. Soon, he was at her side, standing at staring at what she was seemingly so interested in before lowering his face to watch her. True enough, he seemed as beautiful and ethereal as ever, long white wisps flowing freely with not a tangle, save for the single braid plaited carelessly and tucked behind an ear. "Hello, Dear..." he cooed with a smile. Andromalius himself wore a sleeveless asian-style shirt, buttoned up the side all the way to a high collar. It was made of white silk, trimmed with black, and designed into it was a murder of black crows taking flight over a dead tree. His pants were plan, black cotton, tucked into leather, shin-high boots laced up. His arms were covered up just past the elbow by a pair of fingerless gloves, talons painted a shade of dark red at the tips. "This is a lovely night you have dreamed." |
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| Alyth | Sep 23 2009, 08:40 PM Post #4 |
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Alyth's gaze was arrested as the stone about her was cast in a red glow. Her vision turned upward to peer at the moon-- the red heart of the night pulsing gently with her own. She sighed softly and a cold breath emerged from her lips as if the air was cold. This could be a figment of the time of year or perhaps the presence of death in her mind. As with her thoughts, snow began to fall slowly and softly from the sky. It was pure and completely at odds with the warm presence of the jungle. Still, she did not shiver or move but to brush a strand of hair from her eyes, as she often did. "Yes...I suppose it is," she replied in acceptance of his compliment. She was never easy around him, and the scene was one of barely arrested tranquility. She crossed her legs and pressed her hands against the stone roof to keep her body supported. "I was just thinking about you, oddly enough." Her head tilted to the side so she could view him a bit better. She patted the space next to her in invitation, though not necessarily expecting or wishing him to comply. His proximity to her was already putting her on edge, even in a place such as this. Absentmindedly her fingers fiddled with her baldric, wearing at a strap that was a particular favorite. It was normally soft to the touch from countless other anxieties and gave her a small sense of comfort. The familiar movement was accompanied by a glance or two at the moon. The curious change had not gone unnoticed. That it matched her companion's desires did not occur to her, for it also matched her own perception of the moment. It was not long before the sky began to cloud over in manifestations far swifter than common, and a light rain fell-- red as pure as fresh blood. The first few drops she could not feel, but the movement inspired her to look up. As a child tasting it's first snow she opened her mouth to experience them. The drops disappeared as they approached her barbed tongue and she closed her mouth in interested satisfaction. She could taste nothing. In truth the only thing she could feel was a wide array of emotions brought on by the curious circumstances of their meeting. This prompted her to steal a glance at him again, and finally, dare to gaze openly on the face that had plagued her for so long. For the moment it was enough to stare. With a quickened pulse Alyth peered at his handsome face. Her attention to him was prolonged and unnatural for a human to casually do. There was so much beauty and danger showing so openly there that it robbed her of the necessity of speech. Outside of the dream her body was unnaturally rigid, and she frowned as if unsure of something unknown to the night. |
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| Andromalius | Sep 24 2009, 03:53 PM Post #5 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The drifting snow drew his face up-wards once again. He knew he hadn’t done this, though pure white snow tended to be his calling card in the dreams he has influenced in the past. The mage smiled subtly at himself after acknowledging the similarities between Alyth’s and his subconscious. “Were you?” he perked, shifting to slide into a sitting position beside her, crossing his legs with the ankle of the left casually hanging off his knee. His arms mimicked her’s, finding foundation with the roof under the palms of his hands. “Why? Curiosity?” A drop of bloody rain fell onto his nose, staining his porcelain skin. He seemed quite shocked by the precipitation, reaching up to wipe the red away, playing with the thick liquid between his thumb and forefinger before allowing his hand to drop back down to its previous position. He certainly hadn’t done that. Dark eyes shifted towards her, blinking slowly, dwelling on how peculiar it was that the scenery of her mind was so strikingly similar. All she needed was a few dead bodies for decoration beneath them on the ground, but he would not supply them. Even though the dead don’t speak, he would much rather be with her now as the only two people in this world, particularly considering he didn’t imagine he’d get a real chance to speak with her without Sammeln’s presence. A light, airy chuckle came from the ghost as he witnessed her attempt to drink the red rain. He held his hand out instead to collect the drops in a pool in his palm. The hue of it, falling and landing on him from above, was also gradually beginning to stain his white locks. It was starting to appear as if he were bleeding all over. The precipitation seemed to want to touch this blank canvas of a creature, even though the one beside him was still as pristine as the dream’s beginning. By the time she turned to shamelessly drink in his visage, Andromalius was already watching her. He tilted his head some, attempting to figure out what she was doing, then upon the realization, simply allowed her to stare as long as she liked. It wasn’t as if such an insignificant thing could make him uncomfortable. “What’s your fascination with me?” the warlord finally asked out-right. |
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| Alyth | Oct 7 2009, 02:18 PM Post #6 |
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Her gaze followed each curve and movement of his face, confused temporarily by how vivid it was. His question was one she asked herself often in the past few days. What was the fascination? Was it the circumstances of their original meeting? Was it his cool arrogance, or the way he commanded a room? Was it the fact that he was slowly devouring the continent with a seemingly insatiable appetite for conquest? Even Sammeln appeared uncomfortable around him, which also drew her attention. Their styles were quite different but their goals were not far apart. It was his felicity that intrigued her at the moment, and she said so. "I believe you fascinate me because you are so well bred. You have a very pleasing manner that seems to aid you well. It's a stark contrast to Sammeln, who appears well bred, but in reality has a temper to curdle milk." She wrinkled her nose and turned away from him, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged. "What's your fascination? Is it merely because you can't have me that I interest you?" She felt this was a large part of their recent history, but that something more might be present. It was a small nod to their encounter at the bar where she'd fallen through the roof. The circumstances were similar, except they were alone, and free to be more open. As her thoughts turned to that fateful day shadowy forms appeared about them, encroaching on the rooftop. They seemed to be ready to fight, if an invisible barrier was not keeping them out. A hole appeared in the roof just behind them, and Alyth turned with interest. "Maybe you should follow me this time." It was not a command, just a suggestion to catch his attention. Standing up she walked to the hole, cut into the roof like a puzzle piece. With a small smile and a questioning shrug at Andromalius she turned and stepped through. The fall was slow through a tunnel of blackness. The sky above disappeared but the light was replaced with floating candelabras. The change was more warming than disturbing. She fell through it and landed lightly on the floor of her room, where the figure of her body was sleeping awkwardly in the window. The body rose and fell softly with each breath, and the standing figure's breath matched her pace. Alyth took a couple steps forward, making room for Andromalius if he chose to follow her. She viewed her sleeping self with a small amount of sorrow. It was hard to see something even she couldn't technically know. It weighed heavily on her mind, that even asleep she could not escape her prison. "It seems my prison is in my own mind." Alyth was aware that something was unnatural about seeing herself laying down while also standing on the floor. Yet she wasn't entirely aware that she was dreaming, or that Andromalius was anything more than a figment of her tortured imagination. |
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| Andromalius | Oct 10 2009, 01:43 PM Post #7 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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To hear her compliments made her smile. He couldn't remember last time he'd gotten one that wasn't rooted in fear. Her's was far more genuine. Come to think of it, her mannerisms reminded him of someone, like that girl he'd met in the valley months ago, similar in the way that she, too, sounded much older than she appeared. It was her calm demeanor that set her apart, though. She seemed not at all threatened by him. "Yes, for the most part," he nodded in affirmation of her assumption that his curiosity stemmed from the fact that she was untouchable. "But you also never seemed to make any assumptions about my character. You haven't judged me to the point of never wanting to be near me, which is what most people do within five minutes. Because of that, I feel I can be more casual with you. It's nice." The mage perked, witnessing the figures growing around them, reminiscent of the day they'd met. When Alyth stood, he followed per her suggestion. Technically, this was her dream, therefor if he wasn't near her, he wasn't here. So, without hesitation, he jumped in after her and the rooftop, the night, disappeared. Floating down the hole, he watched the candle light flicker around him until he landed behind her, taking in the new surroundings she had to offer. Andromalius stared at her sleeping form, there in the window, before taking a few steps towards her unconscious self. There, as she explained to him her predicament, he gently placed his cold hand on her forehead and brushed her bangs back away from her face, where he then stooped to kiss her head. The body didn't respond. He returned to the conscious Alyth, but his attention lingered on the sleeping one still. She looked so peaceful. "We only restrain ourselves, it's true. Regardless of who or what keeps you, you shape your own life. It is within your own power to free yourself... You're gorgeous in the moonlight, you know. Your skin plays very well off the blue hues." He tilted his head slightly and gave her a side-glance. "If you do manage to escape Sammeln, I will happily take you in and give you a nice place to stay. I could use your wisdom." |
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| Alyth | Nov 2 2009, 07:49 PM Post #8 |
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Her conscious form shivered slightly at his kiss, as if a draft had blown across the room. She raised a paw gently to her forehead then slowly lowered it. When he turned to her again her smile faltered. "Wisdom...I believe I would have a different kind than what you are looking for. You have my thanks, though, for offering me a place to stay. However, it would be as another prison to me." Alyth took a few steps forward to stand beside him, facing the window. The moon passed from behind a cloud illuminating her living form and casting the rest in a dark gray pallor. "Escape is an interesting word. In a way I am trapped in his palace...but there is something more. I feel as though I am looking for something." Alyth looked down at her sleeping form then turned to look about the room. Dark drapes hung about her bed that she'd pulled from the windows. The floor was rare because it was carpeted, something she'd never experienced first hand before. A dresser doubled as a desk for her, and was strewn with books and papers. A wardrobe in the corner contained all the perfumes and jewelry Sammeln had graciously provided her. They had originally been on the dresser, but she had stuffed them away the first time she'd entered the room. She frowned, as if unsatisfied with her own efforts. "Or perhaps something is searching for me." The way she spoke was slightly ethereal, as if she was speaking to someone else. It was clear she didn't mean that the banshee was the seeker she meant. As if remembering him she turned to face him again. "Well, my troubles are of no concern of yours. You have a world to take over, am I right? I suppose you see me as already belonging to you, whatever your case in acquisition. Let me make myself clear to you this once, that any reminder might be reinforced. I am nobody's property but my own. I may be toyed with, and a victim of circumstance, but in the end my soul belongs to me." Eyes like molten gold burned with emotion. She began to pace the room in measured strides, restless. Outside the clouds moved quickly, passing over the moon an onward out of her dreams. Like a swift passing of time brilliant flowers grew in the garden outside. Animals appeared among them to enjoy the bounty and fertility. They alighted from the air and burrowed from the ground, all moving in and out of the palace walls with ease. The plants continued to grow until they became bent over with age. They withered to brown stalks and their petals dried up and fell. The animals, seeing the land was wasted, left the garden in peace once more. "What do you create?" She halted abruptly, tail swirling about her to a fanciful halt. She observed him with a new curiosity, and examined him like a hostler would a potential prize horse. "You are willing to waste so much to own something, to take over. What do you create? Not an empire, that is too easy. Really you do not create an empire you shape one. What is it that sets you apart, or are you just as trivial as the next barbaric conqueror, dressed up out of vanity?" |
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| Andromalius | Nov 3 2009, 04:21 PM Post #9 |
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He'd remained respectfully silent, listening but not talking, though he had a great many things to say. Her wisdom may indeed not be what he needed, though it is seldom for him to pass up any chance to learn something new. He could make this notion on the basis that she seemed to think she already knew everything, particularly about him. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part. He was a celebrity now, after all. Who wouldn't want to say something like 'yeah, I know the Emperor. He's real nice once you get to know him.' People loved feeling special. It gave them a reason to go on with their empty existences. He nodded subtly when she mentioned his lack of time. It was true, he didn't have a whole lot of time to run around freely. Even now, being with her in her dreams was taking place of his chance to sleep, though Gods know why he would want to willingly go back to that nightmare realm. It was when she accused him of already feeling ownership over her that he had to speak up. He did so with the clearing of his throat. "No, you're wrong. I wouldn't mind owning you, but you've made it quite clear, long before now, that is something no one can do, and I'm not angered or saddened by it. Most of all, I just want to know you," he smiled at her, dark eyes softening a fraction. "Much in the same way, I think, you wouldn't mind knowing me. I want to pick your brain, and when all is said and done, maybe be in a position to call you my friend." Andromalius turned towards the back of the room, beginning to wander away, "Why would I want to change a will or tame a spirit like yours?" His back was turned towards the window which displayed the passing of time. He watched her pace from the corner of his eyes, and when she turned to begin again, a black brow rose inquisitively. An odd question was presented to him. To answer her, he placed his hand on the wall of the room. His presence there seemed to send out a swiftly-growing infection, infinitely deep cracks across the room which grew to eventually consume everything, including her other self, until he and Alyth were left standing in a world of black nothingness. "In the beginning..." he said softly as his hand lowered and he, himself, took a few steps back until the darkness swallowed him as well. "...There was nothing. Nothing but an urge." As if it had been there all along, a freshly dug grave sat at the lady's feet without a marker of any sort, as if no one should know who lay below. A drop of water landed on her shoulder, and then it was raining. If she were to look up, she would see that the blackness around her had swirled into large, low-hanging nimbus clouds. The dirt of the burial began to be disrupted. A stark, white hand exploded from its confines, then another, a figure feverishly digging its way out. When the figure's head rose, black eyes were wide with terror, face twisted into an expression as if to say that no one could prepare one's self for what he'd just been through. Coughing and gasping, he rolled onto his back in the rain and allowed the falling moisture to run the dirt off of his face. "I couldn't remember anything about who I was or why I was there, but I knew it was unnatural. I searched desperately for a reason for my return, and in doing so found this urge I speak of. It kept me alive in my state of un-dead, and soon it was my driving force for everything." The man who had just risen from the dead at Alyth's feet sat up slowly, shifting to sit onto his knees before looking up at the cat-eared one. Sure enough, it was Andromalius, but he was far from the visual perfection he was today. His hair was ratted and caked with dirt, just as the rest of him was, and there had yet to be a mask of emotionlessness erected upon his face. "It wasn't just an urge to kill, though," the filthy corpse before her said, taking over in narration as he rose to stand before her. He wore peasant's clothing, a loose-hanging tea stained shirt and faded brown pants with bare feet. A mysterious line of thin, black leather string was wrapped and tied around his left bicep. "It was much more vague, which offered little to no comfort. It was as if my mission from the very beginning, all that I had retained from my past life, was this desire to take the lives of the world and mangle them to imitate my own. I orchestrate destruction to feed this beast, yet pieces of my insist on creating new lives, to spare a soul in order to tell them to cherish what they have forgotten, because I don't have the luxury of remembering." His arm flew out and waved across the landscape, changing it entirely. The red moon was back, hanging low over the Black Tower that he called his home. Around it was nothing but death and a cold, snowy winter. The rain gradually changed to fresh, falling snowflakes. "To answer your question, Alyth, I create peace." His dark eyes passed to her to see if she held any reaction. "When my mission is complete, when my urge is satiated, I will return to the ground, and I will obtain the peace and rest that is my true desire. The world I have left will be desolate and quiet, and those people who have remained upon it will work together to rebuild. They will not quarrel with each other, at least for a little while, because I will have reminded them what it's like to cherish their lives, their loved ones, and their homelands." The same soft smile returned to his dirty, smudged face, "I will give them meanings to their lives as they praise the day I fell, a reason to fight harder for what they truly love. Does that... answer your question?" |
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| Alyth | Nov 21 2009, 06:58 PM Post #10 |
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The darkness was not welcoming, but she felt empowered. There was something about the change of scenery that helped her forget herself for a time. Those dark cracks formed by the banshee covered her sleeping form like creeping vines. Smooth flesh was now rendered cracked, like that of a cobble on the road of a major city. It was easier to leave behind something that appeared so broken and fragile. Clarity fell like rain down her pale skin, teasing her attention away from the grave at her feet. The open pit was not as interesting as the dark mass of clouds above. Alyth had a long fascination with the sky and the glory of the clouds called to her. Only the flying of dirt and the wriggling of a nubile hand caused her attention to revert, and she took a cautious step backward. His words drifted through her mind so that she saw visions of grand destruction. Peace came in the form of extra corpses which her mind felt the need to provide. A young girl's body lay near them, her heart's blood spilled to fill some of the cracks in the ground. She looked at peace, but what peace can there be, but for the dead? The living would go on, and if anyone knew the girl, they would be the one's to carry the sorrow. There would be no appreciation for the thing they lost that could not be outweighed by guilt, confusion, anger, or a plethora of other emotions. "Her eyes are open, forever they remember the last moment of her life, or until the crawlers get to them. A peaceful sight, perhaps. Her family would remember and they would cherish her all the more for missing her. I can see that point of view." She paused to take a few steps closer to Andromalius. She likened the blood of the sky to the blood on the ground and the blood that would not touch the pure white of the snow. "What about her relatives? There would be no peace there. For generations they would remember, if spared. Those left to rebuild would not be at peace. They would quarrel...and not over simple matters, no, but the weight of the world. Measure it by peace or death, fill the cracks with blood and tears...but eventually it will overflow. The human condition..." Alyth's thoughts trailed off. She contented herself with watching the snow falling on the dead and burying them in pure intentions. "How do you decide? Does chance determine who should stay and who should go? For every one you save, would they be saved? Maybe they would desire peace but not at the expense of their families' lives. Still, that is war, is it not? There are many reasons for war...and I think this might be the best I have heard. You fight not for land or spoils alone, but for a greater change. I disagree with it, but I like the way your mind works." As they spoke she rubbed her paws together as if slowly scratching an itch. It was difficult to concentrate on any particular idea when her mind was so full of ideas. Plans of escape and memories of the past, which were temporarily shut out of her dreams, longed to push their way into importance. Her eyebrows narrowed, almost as if she was trying to remember something that did not fit with their present situation. |
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| Andromalius | Nov 22 2009, 02:15 PM Post #11 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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"It's the human condition I intend to use to unite them," he responded casually, taking interest in the corpse of a girl as well. He tilted his head curiously at her. "Ultimately, each individual will choose their own fate, much like my soldiers choose to ride into battle as opposed to running away to save themselves and start a new life. It's a decision everyone makes. I'm just going to present them with the more obvious question. Some need it to be spelled out for them." With the wave of his hand, the snow rose up in an upside-down tornado, swallowing the girl's body up into the ground to disappear. "When the sorrow of loss arrives, people will look around to see what they might have left, because people are generally selfish creatures who crave, they take loss with difficulty. When that happens, they will cherish more what they have instead of what they wish they had, and their neighbors will do the same. One man will look at another, understand their loss, and won't feel urged to kill one another because of the loss they share. In addition, I plan to assume the role of a symbol of hatred. If all turn their attention to my evil, then, for a little while, after I'm gone, they will have no need to bicker because they will all think 'At least we got rid of Andromalius'. It will be an age of unification and trust." He turned to look at her, smiling gently. "Nothing lasts forever, but it will last long enough. All I want in the end, for myself, is to sleep for eternity and maybe be immortalized in some bard's tale, to serve as a reminder to the world to open their eyes and see beyond their noses in order to achieve happiness." As he reached around to pull his hair back, his appearance gradually changed. Tying it all up into a high tail, the dirt caked onto his face faded and fell. His ragged clothing grew dark and long, re-forming into his previous pristine robes. Once again, the well-groomed version of the Banshee appeared. He cast his eyes into the distance for a moment in thought. "I don't know for sure why I was brought back, but I believe I'm on the right path for what the cosmos have planned for us all." He looked down on her, turning his body to face Alyth completely before leaning forward to place an affectionate kiss on her head. "And I'm glad you like the way my mind works. Now, at least someone will know the true purpose of it all. You cannot share this information with anyone, else it will fail. If I'm not seen as a terrible monster, then the world will not change and we will never progress." A few steps took him away. He glanced over his shoulder at her, "I need to get back to work, and you need to get some better sleep." |
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