T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
He stops his magic and binds it within him.
Tenebrae is naked now as he steps out amidst the throng of the festival goers. All that adorns him is a mask across his face. It is painted as Lyr’s once had been. It is crimson and gold; ichor and mortal blood mixed, woven, intertwined. It is an elaborate guise, it twists and twines and weaves its way down his jaw, across his nose, over his lips.
So few had seen him when his shadows were not adorning his body that it is in unveiling himself of his magic that the monk begins to conceal himself.
He is reckless this night, uncaring and wanton. Temptation sings out to him. Her voice is sweet, her game wicked, dangerous for men like him. Yet something is restless in his soul. It is a wild colt, a cooped up lion. This Disciple tests his chains. He dares to live not as a monk, for just a night. Maybe that is the problem with taking the Sons as children? The Stallions they become may only ever crave a life they were denied.
Tenebrae craves.
No longer does the crowd part before a man with shadows as weapons and eyes lit by the light of the sun he had defeated. No, now they find no fear in his winter-skinned body. They find no fear even in the eyes that still glow, wicked, wild, hungry. Untamed shadows watch him from the darkness, they reach with whispering fingers for his body and wonder where his magic slumbers. They can feel the way night is ink within his veins, the way pitch black pools within his soul.
~Anyone is welcome to join <3
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