| Tuesday: February 5, 2008 |
[19 Aug 2009|03:57pm] |
Who: Dante and (Open to many)
When: All day
Where: Dungeons
What: The crazed lycanthrope is finally behind bars
How had this happened? How had he ended up trapped behind silver-lined bars a prisoner instead of out in the wild a free man? How had he let that damn alchemist slip through his fingers alive, and well? The questions that plagued Dante's mind forced him into an almost fugue-like state of eerie silence. He no longer made any attempt to appear, or act normal. What was the point of it when everyone knew what he truly was? What they saw behind those bars was a stone cold killer. Someone who held human life in such small regard that he could squash it like a child squashed small bugs.
The look in his eyes revealed the emptiness of his soul - a dark abyss that could drown anyone who dared to look deep into them. His jaw was clenched tight, and his hands were balled into fists with his nails digging into his palms. Blood dripped onto the floor of his cell, and seeped in between the cracks in the stone. He sat on a chair in the corner of his cell partially hidden in darkness, and shadows. Dante's eyes glistened evilly even in his dim surroundings, and though he was behind fortified bars danger emanated throughout the dungeon as if he could reach beyond them to tear out your heart.
And so he sat in silence in the partial darkness. The guards and the rats were his only company, but at least he could catch the rats and snap their necks. It was the only release he had for his rage. There were at least a dozen on them on the floor - dead rats. Some were torn in half, others were lucky enough to just have broken necks. Some were missing their heads and limbs as if Dante plucked them off one by one. Like petals off a flower, Dante's victims were just as fragile, and just as expendable.
|
|
