Post by €l SonikkÜ on Dec 8, 2007 18:19:24 GMT -5
The sky above hailed a monochrome of gray. Snow clouds covered the blueness typical of this time of day, leeching the color from the earth below. Flurries and snowflakes drifted downward, caught on the ever-slightest air movement that was indetectable to anyone without a gift that would enable them to do so.
Along the old dirt road that split long pasture-lands in half, a road bordered by barbed wire fences and occasional leaf-bare trees, walked a dark figure who's size and form would tell any onlooker that he was a mobian hedgehog. His hands were stuffed in his black, unzipped coat's pockets and his stunning red eyes lowered as his shoes carried him silently down the cold, dusty road.
His soft-furred ears were limp on the tops of his head, moving slightly with each step and his brow furrowed just enough to make a curved wrinkle above his eye. The life of a wanderer. It was all he knew now. Staying in one place would mean destroying what was left of his sanity, especially in the city...among people. He couldn't bare to see the smiling faces, or hear the frustrated shouts of road rage, or the sight of a mother pushing a baby-stroller through the park. He was no longer one of their kind. Like a ghost that could never be accepted back into society because of the weight of his sins. No, he wasn't one of them, and never would be.
Tyrant Ashland. That was his name. He went by Tyran, Tyrant was too disruptive. It didn't fit him anyway. He was forever doomed to quest a seemingly endless journey to find the one d*mned fool who had done this to him. The idiot who stepped in and ruined everything, who destroyed and took from him until everything was gone. Tyran trusted him, hah, what a joke it had been. False pretence had been given a whole new meaning. It had given Tyran an endless supply of rage that would soon unleash Hell on that son of a b*tch who'd turned him into a monster. Soon....soon Tyran would have his revenge.
Or not?
Tyran drew in a breath. He'd been searching for years. It seemed like a sinseless journey, but Tyran's life had gone up in smoke quite litterally. There was nothing left to it, nothing left in it. Nothing but the ashes of what once was...
A breeze drifted by, redirecting the snow-flakes' coarse before it died down again. And Tyran shivered. But not from the cold.
Along the old dirt road that split long pasture-lands in half, a road bordered by barbed wire fences and occasional leaf-bare trees, walked a dark figure who's size and form would tell any onlooker that he was a mobian hedgehog. His hands were stuffed in his black, unzipped coat's pockets and his stunning red eyes lowered as his shoes carried him silently down the cold, dusty road.
His soft-furred ears were limp on the tops of his head, moving slightly with each step and his brow furrowed just enough to make a curved wrinkle above his eye. The life of a wanderer. It was all he knew now. Staying in one place would mean destroying what was left of his sanity, especially in the city...among people. He couldn't bare to see the smiling faces, or hear the frustrated shouts of road rage, or the sight of a mother pushing a baby-stroller through the park. He was no longer one of their kind. Like a ghost that could never be accepted back into society because of the weight of his sins. No, he wasn't one of them, and never would be.
Tyrant Ashland. That was his name. He went by Tyran, Tyrant was too disruptive. It didn't fit him anyway. He was forever doomed to quest a seemingly endless journey to find the one d*mned fool who had done this to him. The idiot who stepped in and ruined everything, who destroyed and took from him until everything was gone. Tyran trusted him, hah, what a joke it had been. False pretence had been given a whole new meaning. It had given Tyran an endless supply of rage that would soon unleash Hell on that son of a b*tch who'd turned him into a monster. Soon....soon Tyran would have his revenge.
Or not?
Tyran drew in a breath. He'd been searching for years. It seemed like a sinseless journey, but Tyran's life had gone up in smoke quite litterally. There was nothing left to it, nothing left in it. Nothing but the ashes of what once was...
A breeze drifted by, redirecting the snow-flakes' coarse before it died down again. And Tyran shivered. But not from the cold.
