10-16-2008, 10:58 PM
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He laughed aloud at the visual of such a small, child-like creature fighting a dragon. Of course, he could believe it. Whatever else she was, Poe was and forever would be a D’Angelo—the madness and the terrors that her family bred would always be there. On top of that, she had Eternity’s blood, and he was a monster almost beyond measure. Of course, these days, everyone seemed to be a monster. They lived in a more vicious world, and their children had begun to explore dangerous roads. Ahren was a prime example, but his generation was one too old for this new breed. He was a different kind of monster.
As soon as she fixed him with those eyes (eyes that were perhaps akin to those of a child in a Victorian painting, a girl who knows too much about her father) he knew what she had envisioned for him. Still, Poe was one of his closest friends and almost a younger sister, and he knew that indulging her was the least he owed her. One hand went down to support himself, and in the process was dipped into a pile of green paint he did not feel (or see, being he was so colorblind). Moving it and pushing a chunk of hair out of his face, he managed to streak it that same color before placing it back on the ground. “In the event some masked man comes out of the shadows,” he said, shaking his head slightly and leaning forward to allow her to reach his face more comfortably.
He laughed aloud at the visual of such a small, child-like creature fighting a dragon. Of course, he could believe it. Whatever else she was, Poe was and forever would be a D’Angelo—the madness and the terrors that her family bred would always be there. On top of that, she had Eternity’s blood, and he was a monster almost beyond measure. Of course, these days, everyone seemed to be a monster. They lived in a more vicious world, and their children had begun to explore dangerous roads. Ahren was a prime example, but his generation was one too old for this new breed. He was a different kind of monster.
As soon as she fixed him with those eyes (eyes that were perhaps akin to those of a child in a Victorian painting, a girl who knows too much about her father) he knew what she had envisioned for him. Still, Poe was one of his closest friends and almost a younger sister, and he knew that indulging her was the least he owed her. One hand went down to support himself, and in the process was dipped into a pile of green paint he did not feel (or see, being he was so colorblind). Moving it and pushing a chunk of hair out of his face, he managed to streak it that same color before placing it back on the ground. “In the event some masked man comes out of the shadows,” he said, shaking his head slightly and leaning forward to allow her to reach his face more comfortably.