The winter winds seem to twirl about the stallion, swiping at his scarred legs with their stinging caress. The frost clings to the ground around him, crunching under his hooves as he shifts his weight. It doesn’t seem to bother Belial. After all, the cold couldn’t hurt more than the heaviness of his own chest and the cracking of his own heart. Everything about this winter felt perfectly placed, as if the land has changed to meet his own state of mind. He wonders, briefly, if his own mood will ever change like the seasons do. He doubts it.
Belial sighs, a puff of air clinging to the cold air like a small cloud before him. Eye of molten red and orange watches the lake as his mind wanders back to his travels here. He can’t remember how long he had wandered or even what he had seen on his way. All he could remember was that the further he got from home the more pain seemed to lift from him. The images of the blood stained grass of his homeland seemed seared in his brain. No matter how far he travelled he couldn’t seem to shake those. Perhaps they would always be with him. Just like the voices of his children, forever echoing in the back of his mind. He would sell his soul for silence if he could.
Pulling his aching wings tight against himself he turned from the water’s edge. The land around him seemed almost empty. For that he was thankful. He had never been good at keeping company and he doubted time had changed that for the better. He walks along the edge of the lake, aimlessly moving through the silent land. He had no plans or idea of where he was going. All he knew was that he had to keep moving.
(eeek rough starter post and no pretty table yet)
