endless shadows

I carried my own ashes to the mountains

If the Sword was in his right mind, he’d know what he was doing was very stupid. Something a child would come up with, contemplate on a rainy day in absolute boredom, with restless limbs and a chaotic, foolish motive.

Perhaps that was where he was now – in a juvenile sense, like the boy from the sea, racing the tides, before everything starting falling apart.

But his warped, sickened, deluded decisions aired on the side of rambling through portals, brandishing swords in his hellhound mouth, and racing against the void. A whirlwind of movement and motion, with no end in sight, ignoring the dreaded heat in his lungs, the multitudes of howls and figments along his ears, embedded and embossed in Stygian fur upon the stretch of morning.

To go and battle the ocean, to go and conquer the world, to bring something down around their heads, make it bleed, make it choke, make it diminished.

Zuriel raced behind his sprinting form, snorting and chiding all the way, but he wouldn’t budge, he wouldn’t balk, the blade lodged in his teeth, along his jaws, to eventually stab and mutilate, massive paws making indents into the sand –

Until he came upon the water, and stopped.

DEIMOS

// tonight my demons come out to play, all my anger goes away, i'm ready for it //

He’s already there, feeling like a nightmare unleashed. A sleek black form along pale sands while the sun rages down overhead. He’s back at the ocean, back where it had all gone wrong and it had nearly suffocated him as well as that smaller panther – turned someone familiar, though he can’t remember who at the moment.

But the panther form is made for the attack, his hair standing on end as he walks along the edge of the ocean, hissing and snarling at it every time the waves crash back toward him. He calms down the moment they wash away, and when they return his teeth are bared yet again. Fuck off. He snarls mentally as if the ocean might be able to hear him.

SUNJATA