March 05, 2017, 12:53 AM
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Oftentimes had he been left alone with the others, each of which filled his stomach with unease. The beast with a streak of black down his seam was the worst, something about him always having made the boy’s hair stand on end. Next came the darkest of the gathering, whose words occasionally sounded peculiar and weren’t the least bit comprehensible; perhaps because they were spoken in a tongue that was not the wraith’s own. Even the silent one irked him, for his appearance confused the child whilst his inability to act of his own free will frustrated him. To spend even a second too long with them had Eros contemplating an escape, and so the trip away from that lot was welcomed with opened arms. Not even a query pertaining to their destination had been uttered, as was the result of his gratitude for being taken away.
Little verbal exchanges were made but always had the boy listened when Bane spoke. When there was knowledge to be obtained, he lunged for it, fully intending to fill his mind with anything that might someday be of use. Still was the memory of Vixen’s death hazy, and yet, it was decided that the pallid warrior could not have been the one to have slain her. He was a true brute—one look at his physique and anyone could declare this to be factual—but lacked naught within the realms of emotion. Next to him, the masked phantasm felt safe—or as safe as a lamb could be whilst surrounded by a pride of lions. With that came trust, or the beginning threads of such, and so no arguments had come from the boy when commanded to stay back. It was as if he’d been caught in Medousa’s stare, his body having grown so still that upon him moss could have flourished. And forward he watched, gazing intently at the man whose lead he followed.
From overhead a voice descended, the words able to do what the eagle’s cry had not: drag away from Bane the attention of the boy. Lifting his chin, golden eyes climbed the ridges of the mountain so that they could rest upon the stranger; curious was he, of where the man had come from and what his intentions were. On him, the stare had remained, not yet ready to return to the body of his guardian.
Little verbal exchanges were made but always had the boy listened when Bane spoke. When there was knowledge to be obtained, he lunged for it, fully intending to fill his mind with anything that might someday be of use. Still was the memory of Vixen’s death hazy, and yet, it was decided that the pallid warrior could not have been the one to have slain her. He was a true brute—one look at his physique and anyone could declare this to be factual—but lacked naught within the realms of emotion. Next to him, the masked phantasm felt safe—or as safe as a lamb could be whilst surrounded by a pride of lions. With that came trust, or the beginning threads of such, and so no arguments had come from the boy when commanded to stay back. It was as if he’d been caught in Medousa’s stare, his body having grown so still that upon him moss could have flourished. And forward he watched, gazing intently at the man whose lead he followed.
From overhead a voice descended, the words able to do what the eagle’s cry had not: drag away from Bane the attention of the boy. Lifting his chin, golden eyes climbed the ridges of the mountain so that they could rest upon the stranger; curious was he, of where the man had come from and what his intentions were. On him, the stare had remained, not yet ready to return to the body of his guardian.
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Messages In This Thread
A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone - by Darcia - March 03, 2017, 10:28 PM
RE: A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone - by Bane - March 04, 2017, 11:30 AM
RE: A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone - by Darcia - March 04, 2017, 05:33 PM
RE: A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone - by Eros - March 05, 2017, 12:53 AM
RE: A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone - by Bane - March 18, 2017, 10:25 PM