epochai

  Cheydinhal provided many good things; beautiful houses, serene surroundings, the quiet atmosphere and, for those that desired it, a certain building with a certain family dwelling within. The house itself had been long since abandoned, as was evidenced by the crudely boarded up door and windows and the mass of cobwebs within the dark and dreary rooms; the gate leading up to the building wasn't even on it's hinges. For an otherwise beautiful city, the building provided quite the eyesore - but that didn't bother the family that lived there. The basement of the house held in it a specific door: the blotched painting of a skull with a hand pri

Some hours ago, Talon had been out hunting. It had felt good to put his obnoxious knife count to use, something a saner person would probably count him strange for - not that it mattered. He turned a few fangs over in his palm as he pondered how best to 'draw' the head of a sabre with string. If Talon were to say he wasn't worried sick about Balkus, he'd be lying. He'd barely slept the past few night because of it. It had been during these moments that Talon wondered how Balkus actually survived when he had so many lives under his protection, all with such drastically different personalities. He hadn't really given much thought to it until g

 Brothers. Relatives. Family. None of these worked in a sentence with the name of the man on the ground before him unless the phrase "He has killed your" came before them. Even so, the thought made Rui'vanil pause in his tracks. A moment ago he would have been all too happy to bring his blade down on Mar'cien's body and destroy the threat there and then, but now he found himself... not. It bothered him. The prospect of himself and Mar'cien being brothers hardly excused him from all that he had done, so why was he stopping now? Here was the chance he had been preparing for ever since he had been blinded, and yet there was... nothing. Neither

today you asked me, "how are you?" i could've lied but i told you the truth i told you about all the pains in my chest i told you at night how i couldn't rest explaining to you how my head spins all day when i think of the words that i'm too scared to say i'll tell you about how i've lost so much sleep i imagine things that aren't there that in the night creep the voice in my head screams, "you don't mean a thing!" and i believe every word despite how they sting i'm worthless and menial and there's no one to care often times it just feels like there's no one else there i'm alone all the time even when i'm with friends because i'm convinced ev