battlerocket
“ My past is like my logic, straight and true. Nothing's changed. All I did was point the finger of justice in the proper direction.
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Post by battlerocket on Jan 20, 2015 23:24:07 GMT -5
Birth. The beginning of a story, a legend, he's a golden page in an endless book of misery and failures. His mother cradles him like a god while father whispers incantations that speak of a brighter future. This is not a beginning of his story - rather, a new start, a brighter beginning that lies immersed in the darkest of shadows. He is the hope that will guide the family and future generations to come, will claw his way up to be someone both renowned and feared; it's only a preamble to his story, they say, the rest of the illuminated pages he must write himself, and through those illuminated pages they miss the shadows that lurk in the center of his eyes -
(What are authors if not the masters of their own creations?)
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battlerocket
“ My past is like my logic, straight and true. Nothing's changed. All I did was point the finger of justice in the proper direction.
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Post by battlerocket on Jan 25, 2015 22:56:19 GMT -5
They'd convinced him to go outside, those siblings of his. He's always had some sort of inexplainable trust towards them, and they use that to their advantage - and that's good, he supposes, it proves that the while the Zaqar bloodline has given way to a generation of mundanes, they at least still possess the mind that their family is reknowned for. Except while they're smart, they're also gullible, human in the way they expose themselves for the world to see, weaknesses and strengths that would make any potential competitor giddy with delight. Cael smiles at the humans(his people, he supposes he should call them, but do they deserve it?) as he strolls through the streets, waving his hands while the apathy churns inside of him like a slow drug - this, among others, is the reason why house zaqar will do nothing but crumble under one of his siblings' rule. Of that much, he's certain. He locks himself in one of the upper rooms when he gets back, ignores anyone that knocks until they go away. In a way, they're all the same, the rest of his family - the only one that he even wants to contemplate having a discussion with is mother, and she busies herself with so much outside affairs that he only catches glimpses of her throughout the day. Books of magic spells and lore of the family's past are all that can keep him occupied, these days, and even that starts to get dull when it becomes nothing more than another routine. There's a large stack of paperwork on the desk. Cael stares at it, stifles the yawn that leaks through the cracks in his lips as he sits down to finish up the book lying beside it. It's one of the more interesting ones that speak of betrayals within the house itself, the work of servants and traitors in a time when witches were regarded as simply gifted, not gods. Their names don't matter much, not really - what interests him is what drove them to turn against the family in tge first place. Many are already dead, and the ones still alive aren't interesting enough to warrant searching for. After all, they could very well be human, and the effort of taking such a ridk makes his insides curl and twist with a sickening sense of premature disappointment. It's so much easier with the servants. Cael traces over one of the summoning circles written on the page and hums idly, gesturing lazily with one hand like a king passing divine judgement. He's studied summoning enough to know that the seal isn't necessary, in this case. " Come forth." And as the seal underneath his finger begins to glow he leans forward, ever so slightly, the gleam in his eyes the only indication that he's even curious at all.
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