Catalyst, 300+
Slowly the man made his way through the territory. He still felt rather miserable overall, but the gentle echo that seemed to so easily pulse through him as a light warning was slowly, ever so slowly fading away. His appearance still spoke insistently of war, but he was quickly recovering. Most of the cuts were shallow, and the fatal bite mark on his neck was perhaps horrid to behold, but it was healing very nicely. There was pain, but the Lilium of Dahlia did not experience pain as one should, so it was all a gentle wave that brought satisfaction because it reminded him of why the injuries were there and how it had happened. It was beautiful. Beneath the ground floor in cabin where the brute lived, lay a piece of Svara’s tail, a trophy that could not be disposed of. It belonged to him and the memories would forever stay fresh. If she had survived, he would want to do the same thing against her all over again. Such a low life creature deserved nothing more than to suffer until it died.
The secui finally reached the gentle stream a bit east of his cabin. He drank slowly, brilliant blue pondering over the light tint of blue in the clear water. When he was done he casually shook his fur, although it was only his muzzle that had been in contact with the cold and refreshing water. As the sun broke through the scattered and white clouds, he parked under a tree, only glimpses of the sun’s rays reaching through to him through the light green leaves. The man presented a great yawn, a salmon-tongue curling automatically as he breathed in the air of late spring. The man did not often feel at peace because of his forever burning heart and soul, but today the voices were silent, and the exhaustion within him that still lingered made this acceptable, as he had to regain his strength quickly so that he could continue what he had started and find the black wonder that given him the injuries. |
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