Oh, it felt like heaven

Itachi Lykoi · 01-01-2012, 06:06 AM

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Itachi was not fond of change when it was enforced without his definite approval. Wild things did not bow to mortal wills, however, and therefore there would never be a spoken word of complaint from the man of spun gold and pale, clean ivory. This change in his monotone life was a rather pleasant one, he would insist, though no one had stepped up to ask such a specific question. A pack wolf, Itachi might be, but his habits seemed slightly similar to those who wandered the lands in solitude. It was likely that he would one day pack up his few possessions and walk away from everything and everyone, one day. But that day seemed far from today, and so his mind was far away from distant lands and the possibilities they could offer him. He considered himself a relatively free spirit, but as long as he found enough contentment in Salsola, he saw no reason to ruffle feathers and reach for more. As every creature, he was driven by greed, but he had enough insight to know the right amounts to digest at a time.

The day today was dwindling, falling into slumber that soon would be draped with the darkness of the night. Eyes of similar hues would watch the explosion of colours as the day met its end and died. The harmonic yet chaotic display of blood and toxic wasn’t beautiful to him as it was to those of more romantic views, but the flawed prince was able to appreciate the slightly varied display of colours. Pale, almost white palms rested against his knees as the dishonoured Protégé sat cross legged against one of the many crumbling stone walls making up the larger ruin in the heart of the Kingdom of thistles. Around him, plants of dirty variations of green coiled into odd and hard shapes, adorned with sharp thorns that would promise to draw blood if one decided to physically interact. It was a long time since the fallen Prince of Inferni had seen his own, royal blood drip to the ground. It clouded his opinion of himself, and he could risk considering himself more than mere normal. But his pride would not be his downfall.

No man with the right sense of pride and self-importance would embrace a lesser being in the manner this one had. But there would never be regret in Itachi’s cracked stone heart. He didn’t have to search for reasons, only accepted reality for what it was. Was use was there to fight if it was a losing battle? To fight to one’s own very end was one thing, but no man was master of his own existence. Itachi had chosen to watch the sunset, but he was not in the position to decide the exact spray of colours that were on display, nor did he have the liberty to dictate the weather. But perhaps he was in luck. Only a few, vacant puffs of clouds drifted in the horizon, and so the blushing sky seemed pure tonight. Perhaps he wondered if his crippled silver bird would return to her cage. She might be chained to the earth as he, but she wasn’t his possession. Still, he had discovered—with a certain amount of strange wonder—that he was not completely comfortable with a prolonged absence. Twice, he had found her live skeleton form on the ground, on her way to the world beyond, and it made it easy to anticipate grave outcomes of her day.

But never would he chase after her, unless that was something she wished. But the songbird’s voice had been clipped at some point since the warmth abandoned these lands and she couldn’t tell him to follow her through fire and ice. She had once asked if he loved her, but his kind did not know this love that she spoke of. His perception of his environment was simple, and that was how he preferred his reality to be. Simplicity before complexity, and his mind would remain unclouded like a clear blue sky, still with the frost of the season. Perhaps today was the day when the girl of silver, red and powder blue would disappear from his life forever.

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