He liked decrepit things. He liked death and decay most of all, for he was so destroyed internally. For years now, it seemed, he’d been wandering the face of the earth in solitude—well, physical solitude, for within his head resided hundreds, if not thousands of spectral shapes that accompanied him and ensured that he never remembered his true state of loneliness. He came from a long, extended family. He shouldn’t be so alone, and yet he was. He rebelled against even them—outsiders in the normal scheme of things—casting himself as the antihero—the villain—in even his own self-made tragedy. He was one pathetic piece of work. The swampland was wretched, and thus lovely to him. The burned, poisoned land within brought glee to his damaged soul, eliciting a wicked expression as he slogged through the mess as slowly and tentatively as one wading through molasses. He was bathed in mud and green slime, yet uncaring. Once he’d cared. Once he’d been as vain and arrogant as any prince should be, but he’d since fallen away, straight into apathy. He was better off there, rotting in the dark recesses of some internal pit he’d dug with his own bloody claws. He’d always been a worthless prince anyway.
Crawling onto a solid path of ground he detected a scent beneath the overpowering odor of rot and swamp. Slinking toward the distant figure, he clawed his way up onto the exposed roots of some tree where he perched, crouched like some spectral bird of prey silently observing with blood-red eyes. Long, dank hair hanging down across his features, masking him and his scars behind an unkempt veil, he spoke out once his thoughts had slowly gathered within his head. “Sepirah,” he croaked in a jagged tone, for he had briefly known them in the short time before they’d departed into the distance and before he’d destroyed their mother. It wasn’t as though there were any ideal dynamics between any of them. Nails sinking into the wood, his gaze narrowed. It had been some time since he’d last seen any of them. He’d given them to Kaena, and that was the extent of his fatherly duties. Kaena would love them, and Kaena would adore them. He was nothing more then a sperm donor in essence and purpose. He’d only have shaped them toward his own wicked purposes anyway had he spent the time.
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