Slow, sturdy footsteps beat a steady rhythm against the rooftops, thump-thump-thump-thump.
A pause; a turn.
Far below, a man screamed in a pitch typically reserved for the fairer sex as an abomination bit into his hip; just meters away, a mauled and bloodied corpse drew a ragged breath for the first time since its unholy rebirth.
The streets were boiling over with chaos and carnage, the living and the dead clasped together in a warm and loving embrace.
The stranger wiped his lip on the sleeve of his old green coat and smiled softly; the smile of a man who has opened his front door to greet his lady.
Ah... what a lovely, perfect night this is!
It's only a pity Fane couldn't make it... perhaps next time?
He was curious as to the presence of so many chimaera; powerful fighters they were, but horribly out of place in Gier.
They'd cause a bit of trouble of their own-- even in the arms of death itself, they were too stubborn to surrender without a struggle.
He'd had an arm torn off by one once.
In return, he took one from it to use in exchange; it was only fair, after all.
Hidden deep within the roar of the frantic crowds and hungry beasts below, the stranger caught the faintest sound on the wind.
A sound like birdsong, like the steady approach of nimble feet through the woods, like a whispered promise of vengeance to come.
Kneeling carefully, he sat on the edge of the rooftop with his legs hanging down, folding his hands within his lap.
The wrinkles that decorated his weathered face told a tale of countless warm smiles through the years, perhaps unsuited for a fellow such as himself.
But Nigel, as he called himself these days, had never cared for the doom-and-gloom perspective so prized by his kith and kin.
He smiled once more.
Don't let me down, little god.
Don't let me down!
* * * * * * *
This scene is closed for RP.
The thread will remain open for commentary and discussion purposes.
This scene is closed for RP.
The thread will remain open for commentary and discussion purposes.
