Rainforest Cliffs
My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul
Who knew the emptiness could be so cold?
I've lost the parts of me that make me whole
I am the darkness, I'm a monster
Who knew the emptiness could be so cold?
I've lost the parts of me that make me whole
I am the darkness, I'm a monster
He comes crashing through the dense verdure like a madman on a rampage, the only giveaway to his approach the rustling of the thick growth, the massive ferns and undergrowth bowing to the side as his sleek, catty form barreled forward, the cloak that whips and whirls behind him masking his footfalls.
The scent of the reclusive creature is what sets him off. He had heard countless stories of Walkers as a child, and he remembers vividly the way his mother would warn him from ever drawing close to them, should he ever be so unfortunate to encounter one for himself. For a long time, he had suspected his mother was doing nothing more than weaving lies in a futile attempt to frighten him, or simply to entertain him all those years ago, but that had been before he and Jaeger had come face-to-face with one themselves.
Ever since his birth, the sombre Prince has been capable of taking this form, but since returning to his homeland, he’s found it to be… well, different. No longer is he the low-lying predator capable of blending in with his surroundings, nor is he able to climb high into the trees above and simply watch the world around him in silence. No; now, he retains his normal size, and the transformation from eloquent equine to lanky feline is far more painful and torturously long than he remembers it to be.
Still, perhaps this abnormal change in his magic will aid him more than it will hinder. At least one fact remained the same; claws and incisors caused far more damage than hooves and blunt teeth ever could.
Plunging from the foliage, Kratos leapt towards the Walker in its pursuit, jaws held open wide as they sought to latch deep into the luminescent tendrils that sprouted from its back while his claws attempted to bury into the Walker’s opaque skin. A weak spot, he had hoped the tendrils to be, or at the very least, a short distraction to allow the crimson-stained draft a small advantage to escape. ”Go quickly,” he wishes to tell her, but doing so would be foolish when his focus needed to be entirely upon himself and his quarry.
’Just stay away from its teeth,’ he repeats to himself like a ritualistic chant, but the voice in his head is not that of his own - it's Jaeger's. ’Just stay away from its teeth!’
"Talking talk here."
