[youtube]6HCQBt3NISc[/youtube]
Time had passed. Nights, days, round the world spun in the heavens as the celestial bodies danced their eternal dance.
His wounds were healing. The physical ones. He had been taken in and was being healed slowly over time.
The damage to his mind, however, was still being determined. Memories were lost. He could recall pictures but not the specifics, and sometimes the specifics and not the picture. He could not recall his mother's face but could recall her voice. He knew he had been a heir to a wealthy merchant and his company. Knew he had fallen in with the darker elements of trade and business.
He knew he could once play 'The Game' of business very well. His silver tongue had been skilled. But he had been beaten by his rivals. Sold into slavery. Made to learn humility.Â
The drugs were gone from his mind, but the damage remained. He could not recall all of his past. Gaps.
So many gaps.
The male slowly walked alone through the Goblet's streets as he thought.
He was free.Â
He owed Nahare a life debt. He would kill one person in exchange for his. But what then? What when his life debt was over?Â
He was in a strange land. He had few friends. No money. No influence. No power. And the male was unsure if he -wanted- those things again.
What had power and coin gotten him? Humility. Separation. They had lost him everything he had ever cared for.Â
Would it not be better to devote himself to his studies of blood? To devote himself to his self perfection and the art he had once used as a weapon?
Perhaps, in the purity of his cult's chants and its rituals he would find peace. Purpose. Happiness.
Perhaps.
A white raven cawed.Â
Khole lifted his head, black hair parting for his emerald eyes to see the same white bird from the night of his escape gazing back at him.
That bird. The herald of the angel in black.
He blinked as the avian creature took to the sky, dropping a single feather that danced on a sudden wind that guided the white thing down into an alley.
Like blood in the vein, Khole felt that he was free to move around but his path was set by the Navigator. Was this her sign now?
He followed the feather into the darkness of a tunnel, wind tugging at his raged attire.
The pupils grew in the dark as he followed. He smelt. He listened as his ears flicked.
Something close.
He drew further and further into the tunnel until he saw the feather, resting at a small side departure. He picked up the feather and, in the growing vision of his dilating eyes, saw it.
"Blood in the veins, guided to our fates."Â Khole said calmly as he looked and understood.
Time had passed. Nights, days, round the world spun in the heavens as the celestial bodies danced their eternal dance.
His wounds were healing. The physical ones. He had been taken in and was being healed slowly over time.
The damage to his mind, however, was still being determined. Memories were lost. He could recall pictures but not the specifics, and sometimes the specifics and not the picture. He could not recall his mother's face but could recall her voice. He knew he had been a heir to a wealthy merchant and his company. Knew he had fallen in with the darker elements of trade and business.
He knew he could once play 'The Game' of business very well. His silver tongue had been skilled. But he had been beaten by his rivals. Sold into slavery. Made to learn humility.Â
The drugs were gone from his mind, but the damage remained. He could not recall all of his past. Gaps.
So many gaps.
The male slowly walked alone through the Goblet's streets as he thought.
He was free.Â
He owed Nahare a life debt. He would kill one person in exchange for his. But what then? What when his life debt was over?Â
He was in a strange land. He had few friends. No money. No influence. No power. And the male was unsure if he -wanted- those things again.
What had power and coin gotten him? Humility. Separation. They had lost him everything he had ever cared for.Â
Would it not be better to devote himself to his studies of blood? To devote himself to his self perfection and the art he had once used as a weapon?
Perhaps, in the purity of his cult's chants and its rituals he would find peace. Purpose. Happiness.
Perhaps.
A white raven cawed.Â
Khole lifted his head, black hair parting for his emerald eyes to see the same white bird from the night of his escape gazing back at him.
That bird. The herald of the angel in black.
He blinked as the avian creature took to the sky, dropping a single feather that danced on a sudden wind that guided the white thing down into an alley.
Like blood in the vein, Khole felt that he was free to move around but his path was set by the Navigator. Was this her sign now?
He followed the feather into the darkness of a tunnel, wind tugging at his raged attire.
The pupils grew in the dark as he followed. He smelt. He listened as his ears flicked.
Something close.
He drew further and further into the tunnel until he saw the feather, resting at a small side departure. He picked up the feather and, in the growing vision of his dilating eyes, saw it.
"Blood in the veins, guided to our fates."Â Khole said calmly as he looked and understood.
