I want to have faith to put away the dagger

Ezekiel de le Poer · 04-08-2012, 03:44 AM

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Some concepts failed Ezekiel. He did not understand art, nor did he know how to admire pretty things. Like this, he too did not understand honor as it applied to his half-brother. There was no room for honor in his world. There was only room for blood, and for faith, and this served as his true religion. Deep in his psyche there was a place for brave deeds and stories of myth, but he was too primitive, too feral in his nature to truly exist with this lie. To live was to struggle, to fight and survive, and to hunt and kill. Above all else, he was a wild creature who often spoke like a philosopher king and whose world struggled to bear the weight of these nightmarish dreams.

“It might ease you,” he began again, and paused to breathe in smoke. “To speak with our grandmother. My—our—father once followed her as you follow me. You did not get to know him as I did,” he added, though there was no mercy in his tone. “But his blood runs strong.” With that cryptic appraisal, Ezekiel turned towards where his horse was grazing. A single motion summoned the attentive stallion. The staff was used to help boost him up where his leg failed, and once atop the massive horses’ back he shifted the stick across his lap. “And tell Halo I will speak with her soon,” the Aquila added, and then urged his horse off at a trot.

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