Kuja (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silvermists) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castle_perrault2017-01-05 04:17 pm
silvermists) wrote in castle_perrault2017-01-05 04:17 pm
Entry tags:
drama king
He's waited too long this cycle.
It's his third or fourth go-around. He's far too tired to think in numbers, right now. One of the most reclusive of the castle's prisoners has emerged from wherever he was holed up, because he's on a mission. There's blood on his sleeves. He discarded his armor and original outfit months ago, deciding to try and fit in better, as much as anyone can 'fit in' here. At least a clothing change served to not attract attention. He's wearing a light blue silk shirt and black pants, one of the few things that fits him and looks nice.
Really. It doesn't matter how good his clothing looks today. Blood. On the sleeves. Hair matted and unwashed. He's all skin and bone and he looks like he might collapse any second. (And yet, even now he's hiding his monkey's tail. Some things still matter even as he wastes away.)
He's leaning on the wall, making his way with frequent stops to catch his breath, trying not to cough. He simply has to make it to the Edge, and reset painlessly to the beginning of all this. Like he's managed to do each time before. It would never do to leave a corpse behind. That would raise questions and some of the children around here are so odd. Odd and nosy.
It's his third or fourth go-around. He's far too tired to think in numbers, right now. One of the most reclusive of the castle's prisoners has emerged from wherever he was holed up, because he's on a mission. There's blood on his sleeves. He discarded his armor and original outfit months ago, deciding to try and fit in better, as much as anyone can 'fit in' here. At least a clothing change served to not attract attention. He's wearing a light blue silk shirt and black pants, one of the few things that fits him and looks nice.
Really. It doesn't matter how good his clothing looks today. Blood. On the sleeves. Hair matted and unwashed. He's all skin and bone and he looks like he might collapse any second. (And yet, even now he's hiding his monkey's tail. Some things still matter even as he wastes away.)
He's leaning on the wall, making his way with frequent stops to catch his breath, trying not to cough. He simply has to make it to the Edge, and reset painlessly to the beginning of all this. Like he's managed to do each time before. It would never do to leave a corpse behind. That would raise questions and some of the children around here are so odd. Odd and nosy.
no subject
...But no. That is not right.
"I have already met the Angel of Death," she tells him. "You are not he."
no subject
"Yes, I was. For people. For cities. For countries. For an entire world. I was their Angel of Death."