chest: CLOSED — Thoughts — "Speech" — Bonded
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In the time since Raum had nearly toppled the Day Court's empire, the ex-warden made himself scarce. The day the rumors had started - Seraphina is dead - he had quietly slipped away in the dead of the night.. shouldering his armor and silently shedding the title that had long since left a sour taste in his mouth.
But much like a poltergeist, he was never fully gone.. just merely toying at the edge of one's vision. During key times he would steal back to the Court in various areas, the guards never thinking much of his passing in and out since no one was the wiser that he had shed his title. He spoke no ill of Raum and no positive of Seraphina, forever towing the line of neutral impassiveness.
After all, if the quicksilver — the mole he should have crushed all those years ago when he was first discovered at Caligo's alter — had known where his allegiance lie, he would surely become a target. And even though it was an odd change of heart - for him to consider himself loyal to the downed sand queen - he certainly didn't feel like he held much (if any) fealty to anyone else.
Instead, he only returned to the Court to quietly pick up snippets of intel and to "show face" to avoid being suspect. He was never a cruel face to those suffering within the walls under Raum's rule, although he was careful to hide any notations of kindness. But tonight? His return was for no reason other than to visit the oasis. The water sang to his old, exhausted bones.
His body was tired, the shadows falling under his features seeming to deepen by the day. His hips and joints ached, and the lack of food was taking a toll - even for one who never showed disallegiance. The quicksilver was a selfish, disgusting ruler no better than Zolin of old. There was never a second guess that all he wanted was to watch Solterra burn... what was surprising was how he had amassed anyone to be loyal to him.
The guards were steadfast in their patrols at the Oasis, refusing to let most common citizens in.... but they stepped aside when they were met with his silent, impassive gaze and the frantic, unsettling one of his Triennial eye. The eye that saw their hesitation at his towering shadow, the gnashing teeth upon his chest, and eyes the color of blood. The blood that ran through the streets, that baked onto the Canyon's bedrock, that soaked into the fine Mors sand and congealed in a rancid mess.. the very blood that wept from the dying bodies, tossed into mass graves amid the desert and canyon.
How long had those traitors wanted to watch their own Court be turned to ash? As he moved between the two sentinels, he passively wondered how many of them he could torture and burn at the stake once Raum was dead. He wondered how many only served him to save themselves.
But for now, his thoughts were only his own. His armor was shed at the edge of the oasis, the teeth on his chest tightening their closed grip as he descended into the water. The snake — one so dark he might mistake it for the void of space or the deepest part of the ocean — had long since slithered away by the time he found himself at the Oasis.
And for a moment, when the water enveloped him, the beat of his heart stilled. The ex-warden's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment the world went quiet. The bugs quieted their hum, the birds song ceased to exist... even the roaring sound of the waterfall seemed to fade into nothingness.
Immortality.. the Eye hissed.
His bones no longer felt old, but oh how tired did he still feel.
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I have three eyes
TWO TO LOOK ONE TO SEE
