M - She asked me what it was I want, I said that I

Itachi Lykoi · 02-13-2011, 03:21 AM

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WARNING This thread contains: drug usage content starting with the 2nd post. Reader discretion is advised.

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The elderly shed had not survived the rough weather this year, and though his silent mourning was shallow as the crust of ice on the nearby stream where he had filled a small beholder with cool water. Today was the first day after the blizzard that he had found his way back here, and he had been met with the absent contours. Perhaps it was a silent sign that nothing could change—that these two creatures of shared flesh and blood could not change. He had betrayed the blood once before, and her eyes had told him what he too knew to be possible; that it could happen again. Itachi did not want it to happen, but her words were traps where he could fall and fail. She was wonderful at her moves; shifting between hard and soft with merciless beat.

There were traces of the floor, but there were no memories he could draw from it. This place was not special, though his thoughts had insisted that it was. Anathema’s claim ran deep into the soil, but the pale blonde male was not content with watching a low, black ceiling. A strange child of the dark, for he sought the natural light from a pleasant sun. He adored the blue canvas on the sky, for he associated it with pleasant memories, fictive and real alike. Alas, this place held nothing but the whisper of a foolish boy’s imagination. Perhaps the black pelted man had been right, that there was nothing in the stars. Regardless the youth had collected sad, remaining pieces of what most likely had been part of roof and walls of the executed building, and the pile of dry, unlit wood had been neatly arranged before him.

The gray headband rested against the swept wooden floor, carefully folded to perfection. Fingers were careful and precise as he poured the black powder into the little beholder of water he had filled up earlier. Holding the little bowl, he used a dark clawed finger to mix dry with wet until it became a thicker mass of pitch black. It was a silly thing, what he did right now, but he needed to move on and find exactly what he wanted from his surroundings. Mostly he felt indecisive, but not everything was shrouded in the mist of unknown.

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