a home away

angel, wrestle me
crack my sides to let me see

Eyes followed him, even when he left the forests behind. They should be gone, they should stay in the trees, yet still they follow. There are, it seems, no bodies to those eyes. They simply watch him, follow him, stalk him until his heart is racing and the great beast's nerves are so on edge he jumps at every snap of a twig. Did they want only to torment him? No, there must be something else, must be something he could do. There had to be a way to rid himself of the eyes that would not leave and earn the Rift's help. As he walked the notions  must… Attempt to steal something from someone.

That was absurd! Never in his life had he tried to take from another. He hadn't the faintest idea how to go about committing such an act. Nor was he sure he could pull it off even if he did. But the thought continued to haunt him, as relentless as the eyes that never left. His body shivered, unused to being unprotected from the cold that hung in the air. Even on a warmer day such as today, the icy reaches of the freeze reached him. Caressed his tender nose with its painful touch before plunging into his lungs and filling them with pain. It was a sensation he had not known ever since he had discovered his dragon's blood. Now, stripped of his magic, it returned with furious vengeance. Even with his thickened coat, he was certain he would perish if he did not find shelter from its bite.  Keeping his large wings tucked close, as much to keep them safe from scrapping against the walls of the tight ally he found himself in, as to keep himself warm, the behemoth pushed his way deeper into the unknown ruins as twisted and tumults as his gut. He could feel the eyes watching him. Following him like a predator. Worse. For they had no distinguishable form for him to fight against.

His claws could not rip, his fangs could not pierce that which did not have a body. His only magical defense had been stolen by those horrible eyes. Had they not taken enough from him? He had nothing more to give, save his own life. That was one thing he would not relinquish. The faint sun barely pierce through the thick canopy of clouds, proving pockets of dim light that danced upon his scales and horns as he walked. Ducking his head to a low hanging arch, his eyes caught movement. Not far ahead, he could make out the form of another horse. Now is your chance... The ghostly voice whispered in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to chase the terrible voice away with an inward snarl. How could he try to steal from another? Surely they were struggling to survive within this world just as he. But those eyes bore into his soul, eating away at his sanity. He had to at least try. If he failed would the voices and eyes leave him? Or would he be forced to try and steal from another? He crept closer to the unknown victim. He had to at least try. He could give the thing back to them later. For a creature of his mass, he moved surprisingly silent. That was until he stepped on a dried bone hidden beneath the dust and rumble. A resounding SNAP, filled the air causing his heart to stop. Crap. There was no way they would not have heard that. Well, his life as a thief had been short lived. He could feel the ghostly voice laughing scornfully at him.




TALK HERE"

that if the end will set me free
or send me down below

Roscarro

image credit to jonathon_brandt at flickr

@Kaida