- Joined
- Dec 15, 2012
- Messages
- 1,478
- Reaction score
- 0
His eyes burned, glaring deep into space; searing a hole into the miserable nothingness that torments his sleep. Brooding, he dwells on the dark circles that are undoubtedly marring his features of perfection even as he forbids himself from checking a mirror. Legs folded in the image of the Jedi, he waits for some revelation to whisk him away into freedom. But he cannot survive it. Every time it comes he feels it escape his grasp like a whiff of smoke. But the scent is upon him. He vows to devour it, day and night. Night and day are his tormentors. He sits in utter truancy.
Lucifer's eyes refocus upon a spec of dust, falling from the shimmer of dimmed light within the dark of night. It trails and sways, committing to inconsistency and the demands of a whimsical fancy. He is enamored by it, low in the grim face of insomnia.
It hits him. Somehow, as inexplicably interpreted millennia passes before it finally touches the floor, its meaning touches his heart. His neck pulses, a twitch of the head, and he painfully unfolds his legs to get off of the bed. In the dead of night, he is ill prepared yet the heart beat calls. His bare feet innocently clap upon the hall floors, stark in absence of his reflection with simple white pants loosely kicking upon each step, as he makes towards the training rooms down through the catacombs of this castle's maze. Indifferently shirtless and untamed, Lucifer treads with a casual purpose. His soft breath whispering like the flicker of candle light under aching scrutiny, this Initiated wanders towards his calling. For the call of the night has awoken him from his deathly slumber.
Lucifer's eyes refocus upon a spec of dust, falling from the shimmer of dimmed light within the dark of night. It trails and sways, committing to inconsistency and the demands of a whimsical fancy. He is enamored by it, low in the grim face of insomnia.
It hits him. Somehow, as inexplicably interpreted millennia passes before it finally touches the floor, its meaning touches his heart. His neck pulses, a twitch of the head, and he painfully unfolds his legs to get off of the bed. In the dead of night, he is ill prepared yet the heart beat calls. His bare feet innocently clap upon the hall floors, stark in absence of his reflection with simple white pants loosely kicking upon each step, as he makes towards the training rooms down through the catacombs of this castle's maze. Indifferently shirtless and untamed, Lucifer treads with a casual purpose. His soft breath whispering like the flicker of candle light under aching scrutiny, this Initiated wanders towards his calling. For the call of the night has awoken him from his deathly slumber.