07-29-2010, 12:46 PM
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Itachi. It wouldn’t be surprising if the name again faded from his memory only moments later. The child was nothing more than a boy, and yet worthless in his eyes. He could understand the potential of the young, but they held no other purpose, so dependant and so frail. He and his siblings had been hidden away from the world until they’d grown, finally meeting Inferni with their heads held high and sickening pride permeating from every inch of their flesh. They were princes and holy damned—vessels birthed to wreck havoc and destroy the world. He said nothing. He’d never been adept at anything outside of destruction, for that was his sole purpose and nothing more. The others may have faded from their origins, taking on a mortal life, but not Samael. He lived and breathed murder, and he spoke only to wraiths that lurked beyond the normal range of vision. The angel was all that he lived for now, along with Kaena. But the angel hadn’t spoken in a long, long time. The silence was overbearing. The angel was he, and he was the devil dressed in the mutilated garb of a being of light. He was split into many fracture pieces, each more horrible than the last. Only darkness remained. |