a king walks among us
He was meant to be in hiding. The sand clung to him like a shroud, driving him home. The land of his mother turned land of his crimes. All this world offered was gore and suffering and Juniper. Hard tawny grains whipped against his legs in a fierce wind and he wondered if this was the place of his birth. Cursed be the day.
Cursed be the day that a figure would rise on the horizon, glittering in the sun more than even the black bull-king. Exiled, condemned, and sought for execution, he watched the stranger crest a dune and thought, Perhaps today it will end for me.
Perhaps that would be alright.
@Orestes | Search and Destroy
”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,
