04-13-2011, 05:33 AM
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Table by Requiem
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Dawn’s swift approach teased his senses, for while the world around him kept their hues of fresh spring, he could only perceive the darkness, approaching with hurried and final steps. Eyelids trembled slightly as he resisted the urge to close his eyes; feeling the tight pull of a wicked sleep. But the pain was great and he was no more ready than any other mortal creature to let go of his presence in this world. But he knew what was coming for him. Would he soon turn to meet a pair of burning blue embers in the face of the underground king? Would he forever be unable to reach salvation? Conor had tried to make this world a better place, but his voice had not been heard; he had not received absolution. Perhaps there was only one ending to foul creatures like him. But it wasn’t fair, for there was so much left for him of life.
Dawn’s swift approach teased his senses, for while the world around him kept their hues of fresh spring, he could only perceive the darkness, approaching with hurried and final steps. Eyelids trembled slightly as he resisted the urge to close his eyes; feeling the tight pull of a wicked sleep. But the pain was great and he was no more ready than any other mortal creature to let go of his presence in this world. But he knew what was coming for him. Would he soon turn to meet a pair of burning blue embers in the face of the underground king? Would he forever be unable to reach salvation? Conor had tried to make this world a better place, but his voice had not been heard; he had not received absolution. Perhaps there was only one ending to foul creatures like him. But it wasn’t fair, for there was so much left for him of life.
Pitch black moved before him, but it was not the darkness of his ending world, but a creature of flesh and blood with yellow eyes. He recognized a different taint in the soul peering out from those hues, and could feel an impulsive response settle in the pale lines of his warm painted face when she touched him. Darkspawns would always crawl out from the rifts of the earth. The man’s heart ached for the lost son that had doomed him, but the organ within his chest was running low on maroon. With a face consorted with plain disgust, the dying man spat at the wicked demon before him, and barely registered the taste of his own blood on his tongue before the world was destroyed by soft currents of black. Finally, he could rest.