Riptide Isles
They were gifted, blessed, and consecrated with the art of avoidance. They could paint oeuvres, masterpieces, on the subject of evading and escaping from merciless edges, from topics threatening to wound, to barb, to hurt, even when the other had experienced much of the same. The pair could’ve shared their melancholy, their doubts, their muddled, mottled thoughts, commiserated on the state of hellholes and the chaos crumbling, threatening, to consume them. They would’ve understood one another, living mirrored lives, father’s dying, empires disappearing, savage, nefarious acts coursing through their veins. But they didn’t – because it was easier to lie, to hide, and to conceal how many times they’d been pierced from inward swords. It was easier to beckon the truth away from their souls, to twist and turn and fall apart with no one watching, no one staring, no one believing, seeing the weaknesses clawing from within – but Erebos knew he had enough buried so much that it threatened to bubble and froth over, to split him down from seam to seam, from rubble to ruin, and there’d be nothing left of him. He was consumed and devoured and swallowed by the chaos, by the conflicts, by everything he’d left behind – even the momentary contentment, satisfaction, of destroying an enemy (but not being able to say, not being able to be proud of the colossal achievement of destroying an enemy). He was certain Rikyn could view it all too, read him like an open book, stare and stare until he saw just how much he’d coiled and curled away, stuck between destruction, mayhem, and calamity, no longer the scion, the youth emboldened with promise. There was too much damage, too many scars, too many horrors and afflictions murmuring with abhorrence and persecution, and he glanced out to the sea again and again, wondering if that would be the only way to rid himself of the pain, the melancholy, the roughened edges and the tarnished soul.
It never stops raining earned the slightest of smiles, the vague, small indentation of his smile, because he’d always enjoyed the rain – the very image of his mother – and then allowed it to falter when he thought of his father, caught in his last moments in the drowning deluge. As if by mere coincidence, or perhaps summoned by the sheer notion of its existence, a few droplets descended onto his coat, crossing over his skull marking (heritage and legacy; something they both comprehended well, strived to outlast shadows and demons), not noticing the miniscule sparks glowering in its wake. He responded instead, muted, tucked away, barely there, mind embossed and embedded in the sphere of soullessness dragging him down, down, down. “All this place seems to do is take.” The grin died there, ears turning in the briefest of Rikyn’s revelations, like a little scrap of information, delivered simply because they were friends and the once King could unleash his frustrations (but never the innermost sentiments; those were reserved to wither and decay for years to come) towards a boyhood companion.
He didn’t have any advice though. His experience with Enna’s moods and his inability to read situations didn’t bear well for counsel or guidance (and he couldn’t tell her what he’d done for her). “Did you do something again?” His brow arched, vague, presuming Rikyn had come to fault and blemish at some point, for while the beast had his virtues, he also had his flaws (usually whatever spewed from his mouth; hostile, blunt, curt). Then he glanced against the horizon, pondering if he should reveal something too, if this was an opportunity to take part, share, give in to proclamations (but not into the deepest of fathoms, where his heart lay broken and disheveled, in shards, in slivers, in fragments). “Enyo disappeared,” was all he had, and even then, his voice sounded corroded, shaken, and blistered. “I keep looking for her, but-” The emptiness, the gaping hole beside him, was enough to know he hadn’t been successful, one more pledge, one more oath, going unanswered.
It never stops raining earned the slightest of smiles, the vague, small indentation of his smile, because he’d always enjoyed the rain – the very image of his mother – and then allowed it to falter when he thought of his father, caught in his last moments in the drowning deluge. As if by mere coincidence, or perhaps summoned by the sheer notion of its existence, a few droplets descended onto his coat, crossing over his skull marking (heritage and legacy; something they both comprehended well, strived to outlast shadows and demons), not noticing the miniscule sparks glowering in its wake. He responded instead, muted, tucked away, barely there, mind embossed and embedded in the sphere of soullessness dragging him down, down, down. “All this place seems to do is take.” The grin died there, ears turning in the briefest of Rikyn’s revelations, like a little scrap of information, delivered simply because they were friends and the once King could unleash his frustrations (but never the innermost sentiments; those were reserved to wither and decay for years to come) towards a boyhood companion.
He didn’t have any advice though. His experience with Enna’s moods and his inability to read situations didn’t bear well for counsel or guidance (and he couldn’t tell her what he’d done for her). “Did you do something again?” His brow arched, vague, presuming Rikyn had come to fault and blemish at some point, for while the beast had his virtues, he also had his flaws (usually whatever spewed from his mouth; hostile, blunt, curt). Then he glanced against the horizon, pondering if he should reveal something too, if this was an opportunity to take part, share, give in to proclamations (but not into the deepest of fathoms, where his heart lay broken and disheveled, in shards, in slivers, in fragments). “Enyo disappeared,” was all he had, and even then, his voice sounded corroded, shaken, and blistered. “I keep looking for her, but-” The emptiness, the gaping hole beside him, was enough to know he hadn’t been successful, one more pledge, one more oath, going unanswered.
Erebos
clever got me this far - - then tricky got me in
@Rikyn
