08-28-2008, 10:29 PM
[html]mall-caps;color:#660000;">there's no one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead
A long time ago, somewhere around his first birthday Samael had wandered away from Inferni's grasp and Kaena's shadow. He had traveled for a few weeks, moving wherever his legs would take him in the general outskirts of Bleeding Souls. Curiosity had taken hold of the child, yet loyalty to his mother had kept him close. Yet, now she was gone, vanished off into the wilderness and he still stayed like a loyal dog. Perhaps one day he would again depart to travel the world, but for the time being Inferni held a certain level of loyalty. "How lovely," he said with a faint smile. Corona had probably seen more and done more then he had. Was there envy in the boy's heart for his wasted existence, longing to break away and fulfill his own destiny, destroying the world like the hand of God? He was sick, held back by his own affliction, lurking in the shadows like a worthless dog, picking off the occasional rodent. That was not the fate for the Prince of Fear.
"It has been rather dull, for the most part," he mused. Dahlia's war had shown promise, but somehow Samael had hardly been involved in the murder. He was bored. He was dead. A walking corpse without a purpose. How fucking melodramatic.
A long time ago, somewhere around his first birthday Samael had wandered away from Inferni's grasp and Kaena's shadow. He had traveled for a few weeks, moving wherever his legs would take him in the general outskirts of Bleeding Souls. Curiosity had taken hold of the child, yet loyalty to his mother had kept him close. Yet, now she was gone, vanished off into the wilderness and he still stayed like a loyal dog. Perhaps one day he would again depart to travel the world, but for the time being Inferni held a certain level of loyalty. "How lovely," he said with a faint smile. Corona had probably seen more and done more then he had. Was there envy in the boy's heart for his wasted existence, longing to break away and fulfill his own destiny, destroying the world like the hand of God? He was sick, held back by his own affliction, lurking in the shadows like a worthless dog, picking off the occasional rodent. That was not the fate for the Prince of Fear.
"It has been rather dull, for the most part," he mused. Dahlia's war had shown promise, but somehow Samael had hardly been involved in the murder. He was bored. He was dead. A walking corpse without a purpose. How fucking melodramatic.