Lethal Eloquence (Freya) Sept 21, 2012 2:51:31 GMT -4
Post by Tobias 'Hybris' Kipling on Sept 21, 2012 2:51:31 GMT -4
Upon approach to the Necropolis, lessers surrounding the dark, morbidly twisted building began to split like the waters of a great sea at the hands of some divine prophet. Nothing was divine about the stoic figure cutting between them, moving them aside with little ceremony, eyes trained solely on his home, his sanctuary. He had made it a point to visit the place more often, his satanic connection to his father strong always, but it never hurt to reacquaint with ones origins and pay his dues. Moans of the undead rose to the skies like the drone of bees in a hive, incessant, just as monotone as one would expect from a decayed throat, save for the occasional growl, a soft hiss from between rotted teeth and past broken lips. He laid a hand on the door, twisting his head around to see the devil’s cannon fodder roam around, quickly engulfing the path he had just cut into the horde. Unlike last time, where humans seemed this to be a play place of sorts to spread their ignorance, no god made creature would be able to come even remotely close. Just in case though, he asked a group of crows to keep their eyes open, the request met with a couple shrill shrieks translating to agreement, while the rest ignored him to peck at remains clinging to the bones of a corpse half heartedly.
When he entered, the ever-present silence enveloped him like the phantom arms of a lover he would never have, skin of marble and stained glass beautiful with the sheer otherworldly nature it possessed. The light that still remained was transformed into various colors, vibrant until the hues blended in with the many shadows nestled into the nooks and crannies. His expression softened, as if a great weight had been lifted from his muscles. Not warm or human by any means, next to none would ever elicit such a change in him but the one who created him. Though he came for a reprieve from the apocalyptic battle ground outside that had taken his attention for so long, he also came with another agenda. Shaken somewhat of the fact an old colleague managed to defect and turn from his rightful origins, Hybris felt the need to establish fully what he had set to do once he returned to Fort York as a Kakai. As the representation of pride, a demon of ambition, he thought it necessary to enforce that among his own kind.
“Is my fortune good enough to grace me with in the presence of kin?” His voice rang throughout the silence, and he moved forwards without waiting for an answer, head tilted upwards towards the shadowed eaves and higher balcony floors. He took a moment to survey the haldberd as well, laying it on one side along the rather uncomfortable black pews, before his gaze resumed peering around. It was a shame the necropolis was so scarce at times, but then again, this silence, a silence akin to the deepest depths of the ocean, was sweeter than any scream, any note of music or lilt of someone’s voice, and for this, he was thankful.