11-06-2007, 03:50 PM
[html]Darkness lay thick over the beach, broken by the faint pinprick of stars that occasionally broke through the cloud-cover. He swayed faintly, body there but mind long gone into a rapturous state. He could see devils and angels, taking the form of shadows as they swept around him, speaking in hushed whispers that sounded like the soft rustle of wind through the trees. They laughed, they wept, and they hissed things that would sent a shiver down the spine of any mortal. But he wasn’t afraid. He spoke, his own voice mumbled and broken, uttering words in an ancient tongue that broke into the air like fire.
The shadows vanished, leaving the night lucid and clear; the tang of the ocean’s salt on the air and the crisp chill of the November night biting through his coat. Crimson eyes took in his surroundings, but there was no memory of the steps he’d taken to get here. A mark had appeared on the back of his hand, carved into his flesh, but it’s meaning and origin were lost. He moved toward the ocean, stepping into the shallows and allowing the water’s chill to wash over his limbs. The salt burned his hand, but it swept away the dried blood that had crusted there and returned his thoughts to the present.