12-04-2008, 02:17 AM
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Ahren had a curious ache in his blood, a desire that had been with him for years. There was no purpose in these fires as there had been for the Khalif, for his step-mother and her kin. All that belonged to him was brush-fire, madness, red-eyed laughter and drowning black holes. Just after sunset was his time, in the autumn where the leaves burned and everything died.
He heard the boy over the talking flame, heard it over the voice he alone understood. The taste of smoke and fire was long since familiar to his throat, long burnt into his very being. A question made his mind flip, made him switch back to a time long ago, another child, another fire.
“Wer sie sind,” he half asked, half stated. Shaking his head slightly, he broke his gaze with the fire and eyed his son quietly.
“To wrought the ghosts from the floors,” he offered, black-blonde hair falling around his face.
Ahren had a curious ache in his blood, a desire that had been with him for years. There was no purpose in these fires as there had been for the Khalif, for his step-mother and her kin. All that belonged to him was brush-fire, madness, red-eyed laughter and drowning black holes. Just after sunset was his time, in the autumn where the leaves burned and everything died.
He heard the boy over the talking flame, heard it over the voice he alone understood. The taste of smoke and fire was long since familiar to his throat, long burnt into his very being. A question made his mind flip, made him switch back to a time long ago, another child, another fire.
“Wer sie sind,” he half asked, half stated. Shaking his head slightly, he broke his gaze with the fire and eyed his son quietly.
“To wrought the ghosts from the floors,” he offered, black-blonde hair falling around his face.