Felltree Marsh catamite on a marble throne

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armand had met wolves and had moved on from them, unperturbed. in spite of his search for his own demise, his fur had thickened, and his body weight had stabilized. this chagrined armand, who wanted nothing more than to waste, and so he had stopped eating for the present. such actions brought clouded dreams, and these in turn allowed the boy the freedom of his mind's vast and tortured expanse. even now he sang small ditties in the palazzo to his fellows, uncaring of where he walked or how he stumbled.
he was not in this great place of destruction, and struck a pathetic vision as he staggered through the debris. some great hand had shaped this land, and the boy busied himself with idle contemplations of which deity it might have been, mumbling various names to himself as he walked. but not that one -- never that one. he closed his teeth around it, and swallowed the small empty syllables, and chuckled, a ringing, melodic sound that echoed into nothingness.[/tr][/td][/table]