12-06-2007, 03:29 PM
[html]private for lith. :]
The wind ripped through the city, howling like a lost soul as it swept between the buildings. Steel and concrete creaked and moaned as structures swayed, weakened by the passage of time and lack of regular maintenance. The snow had stopped, but what lay across the blacktop and rooftops was blown into the air, swirling and falling again and again in an endless rhythm.
Perched on the ornate ledge of some pseudo-Gothic building, Samael peered out across the city-scape, leaning back and allowing his gold and black streaked hair to whip repeatedly into his face. Voices intertwined with the ghostly sound of the wind, whispering things as he quietly listened, attention only half on them, and half on what actually existed around him.
He turned, reaching out and plucking a feather from the dark shape that lay prone and still on the ledge beside him. Dusted in snow, the crow hardly resembled the glorious creature it once was, but rather a dark mass discarded and forgotten here above the city. Turning the feather around and around between his fingers, he released it into the air, allowing it to slowly spiral down into nothingness, before being swept up into the wind.
The wind ripped through the city, howling like a lost soul as it swept between the buildings. Steel and concrete creaked and moaned as structures swayed, weakened by the passage of time and lack of regular maintenance. The snow had stopped, but what lay across the blacktop and rooftops was blown into the air, swirling and falling again and again in an endless rhythm.
Perched on the ornate ledge of some pseudo-Gothic building, Samael peered out across the city-scape, leaning back and allowing his gold and black streaked hair to whip repeatedly into his face. Voices intertwined with the ghostly sound of the wind, whispering things as he quietly listened, attention only half on them, and half on what actually existed around him.
He turned, reaching out and plucking a feather from the dark shape that lay prone and still on the ledge beside him. Dusted in snow, the crow hardly resembled the glorious creature it once was, but rather a dark mass discarded and forgotten here above the city. Turning the feather around and around between his fingers, he released it into the air, allowing it to slowly spiral down into nothingness, before being swept up into the wind.