[[I like this mood quite a bit. -posts-]]

Crack.

A shadow swiftly moved through the undergrowth of the forest, branches whipping back as the low shape passed beneath them. It was tracking something, moving in a fairly straight line. For a moment, the shape paused in a small clearing, head raised to the dark gray clouds above with its eyes closed. Ahh, another cold dawn. Rain would likely come soon. Light golden eyes opened with a flash.

The shape was a fairly normal-looking mountain lion the color of dust. However, upon close inspection, one could see that something about the mountain lion's eyes were...off. They didn't quite look animal, but it would be hard to pin down exactly what was wrong with them. Perhaps they were too flat, perhaps too deep. Suddenly, the shape was in motion again, transitioning into a light trot. He paused only when he reached the edge of the trees, stopping smoothly in the deep shadows they cast.

The mountain lion's tail whipped back and forth once as he lowered his head, staring into the clearing before him. Tall stone spires rose above the treetops, which intrigued the curious creature. He padded around the clearing, looking at the stone far above his own head. It fascinated him, though it worried him as well; where carved stone was meant humans lived as well. In fact, several of them seemed to be carved and laying within the temple. The big cat's eyes narrowed. All of a sudden, the scent came to him: a human was somewhere quite nearby. Scouting around more, he found it was just within the temple. It looked blind. Of course there was a human within the stones. When had he ever found a human-made place without a human lurking in it?

With a deep chuckle, the mountain lion's skin fell from his back as he began to walk upright. It turned into a mountain-lion cloak with the head of it, snarling, over his own. He had no other clothes save for a small cloth tied around his waist, which he adjusted as he moved slowly from the shadows of the forest, watching the other. The man decided not to walk too fast, but at a slow, easy pace. While still a good few yards away, he called out.

"Is strange place for man to lurk in. Is very beautiful, yes, but is very strange." His cool brown eyes studied the other man, without hostility, but rather with curiosity. He had followed the scent to the top of the mountain, thinking it strange, perhaps lucky. This man might not be like the others, perhaps he wouldn't know. Unconsciously, he smoothed one hand over numerous small scars on his tan-colored skin.

"Is say hello, man. Is lurk on high mountaintop why, mm?" The man idly drew his cloak closer around him; it was rather cold up here and the wind was blowing straight under his cloak.

I'll totally be using this in the future! Thanks for making it!! (8

[[It's fine. ^^]]

The man crossed his arms in front of him, tilting his head in a rather bird-like manner. When considered, his voice was harsh too, somewhat like a caw. However, his open expression seemed to contrast directly with his rough voice. He didn't look like a man who could hide very much.

Of course, looks could be deceiving.

Uncrossing his arms, the man took another step forward, looking nonchalant. He remained silent for awhile, studying. He didn't seem to be very afraid of the other. Perhaps he was naive or perhaps just confident in the power of the skin lying on his back. He brought the hand to his face again, considering something and looking over the much taller figure.

The man himself was not exactly strong, but sturdy enough. He judged he could get away in time should the stranger decide he didn't care for his company. This one was strange, certainly, but the man could read expressions well, and judged he wasn't too hostile at this point. No danger yet. Best to keep it that way.

The man didn't answer the question directly either. Instead, he glanced off to the side while speaking, looking back at the surrounding forest he had come from. Should he have to run, he could certainly escape an old, blind man--no matter his condition.

"Is very beautiful up here, yes. Is perhaps not lurker, this one does not say phrases very well." The man shrugged, lips pulling up just a touch at the corners. Straight to the point, this one was. Eh, well, manners hardly mattered. At least he was talking and not hitting him with that stick or driving him off.

"Is perhaps come up here for same reason as Blind Seer. Is like desolation sometimes. Is perhaps come here for different reason. Is perhaps come to see who is here." A hand gesture indicated that he was brushing off the topic as unimportant. His head turned back to face the man standing in the archway, eyes still tinged with curiosity, perhaps even more so now.

"Is have name, Blind Seer?" He looked directly at him, pulling the cloak tighter once more.

For Ocean and Parler:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared at the scent returning as the breeze carried to him; the odor obviously that of a human or at least a humanoid of some kind and yet is was laced with something else, something underlying that smelled so much more… primal. Much more feral. Feline? He couldn’t quite tell but his nose cringed. Not an entirely unpleasant smell, but rather unknown to him, strong. And an unknown smell like this made him apprehensive, somewhat. Suspicious and cautious to say the least, wary of the other.

But there had been no hostility until now; even if it was impossible for him to read body and facial language, feeling how his almost echolocation-like waves still bounced off the other and feeling no vibrations of rapid movement it seemed like that wouldn’t happen very soon, either. And even if it did, he would show that he wasn’t exactly helpless; his large, bony fist clenching the large thin pole that could serve both as a walking aid and most of all, a weapon and one he could wield with lethal results at that. He was old, but not vulnerable. Oh, he was far, far from that. An old soul in a young body.

Not that he cared when others thought that, but he did not need their pity. Never did he ask for their sympathy or their pity; he did not need it. His life wasn’t miserable; his mind and heart merely were that way. It's only after you've lost everything, that your free to do anything. He was capable of being somewhat happy, feeling a bit of bliss, around the right persons… yet that would only last a moment before the cruel brutality would return.

Rigidity was a parasite that never let go of its victims without a struggle.

The sound of the voice came from the same place and he realized he’d been looking slightly tilted away from this new arrival and he turned his empty, nothing seeing gaze a bit to the side, succeeding in somewhat facing the other. That voice somewhat reminded him of how a bird would sound once turned into a humanoid; sharp, harsh. Rough. His own sounded older, heavy and deep, somewhat abrasive.

The man explained his reasons for being here although he seemed to turn around the subject, brush it off, turning to a point that the stranger found more important. The Childless didn’t mind; for whatever reason the other had come here, the things he would do once arrived were much more significant to him.

"Is have name, Blind Seer?"

Even if the way of talking was… peculiar, to say the least, he could understand him just fine and he straightened his back from a tensed pose to a calm, confident one; standing with the outlandish regality of a bizarre fallen king within the ruins.
Blind Seer… that was a title he hadn’t heard in a while. Lately it’d been mainly ‘Old fool’ or anything that went along those lines.

”I carry many names.” he began, realizing he heard something else in the distance, but he did not let his attention waver from the other. ”Blind seer is one of them. What might be yours…?” he answered it indirectly. His true name was long forgotten into oblivion, by everyone but him. He didn’t want it to return. He would carry the titles, the blames upon his shoulders, for he deserved them. They were one of the reminders of all his mistakes, and in his ancient, long life had made many; quite a few he regretted deeply, but could never make up for.

The noise that he had heard before, very gentle, graceful vibrations accompanied by the sound of hooves. Whatever was approaching them so swiftly, it wasn’t exactly small nor was it too big but it carried itself with a certain kind of grace that seemed awkwardly… familiar. The gentle breeze that had been making the canopy rustle now turned; and Childless his nostrils flared at a soft feral smell rather familiar to him.

A raspy voice reached his ears and he turned to the place where he’d heard the soft sound coming from; the large man backing off a little, now having to concentrate on two persons; finding the shelter of the ruins behind him soothing in a way… but he recognized that voice instantly. Dmitri. His mouth twitched into a very brief smile. He couldn’t see the rather terrifying way the young buck looked; Childless only being used to the soft voice, the scent, the interactions with the youngster, and thus he didn’t fear him, no; far from that. Quite the opposite, really.

"Are you the Childless Father?"

The corners of his lips slowly turned into a faint smile, one barely visible because of the skull markings that were etched into his face, creating this intimidating façade of death that many feared; his empty eyes not exactly making his appearance any more flattering either.
But, as said before, appearances were something he did not care for.

”You are correct… That would be me.” He moved a bit towards him, glancing at the stranger with the bird-like voice sometimes; even if he could not see, it was as if to warn him that he was still keeping an eye on him… or, well, so to speak. ”Can’t say I am not surprised to see you here… alone, it appears.”

-------------------------------------------
For Celticmystress for our one on one;

-------------------------------------------
The crisp of the wind was clear; cold. And Childless shut his eyes again, standing firmly with the pole in his hand. And he listened. Listened quietly to the sounds of the world. Those distant echoes of the old that seemed to echo in this vast mountain range, seemed to linger within this forest like an ominous song remaining and refusing to stop, a song that demanded to be heard. An old, ancient cry of the fallen ones, haunting and unforgettable, making ones skin crawl and blood run cold. Their morbid cries fainted far into the distance again, merging with the painfully familiar drumming of the quiet as his eyes slowly opened; empty eye sockets filling with the swirling, shimmering mist again. Those murmuring moans that could only lead to silence.

Now the breeze turned; and Childless had to be damned or he could smell something unfamiliar, something new with all the other scents that the breeze brought. Almost like a feral, tribal old King he rose to a majestic, rather hostile but regal pose; and without too much of a problem he used his pole to support him as walked over a piece of fallen statue, rising high above the surface of the ruins; making him visible for everyone around. He was able to catch the scent much better hear, hear much better and he could feel the vibrations in the sensitive soles of his bare feet that so delicately balanced on the rough, rugged stone without a problem. His appearance may have dwindled over all those years, but his body was young whereas his soul was not, for he had aged with acrimony and wrath. A man without hope is a man without fear.

The wind became a little stronger, made his hair wave slightly in the breeze, the rings of his dreadlocks making soft noises as he stood there on this statue, this overlook. Scents were carried to him and as his eyes shut, his heightened senses were able to make out many kinds of smells, many familiar, but some… uncommon to him. Recognized, yes, but unusual. His thick brows turned into a scowl as his nose cringed.

He smelled smoke; he was certain of it. Not the kind of smoke that would come from a fire… no, this was a contained kind of smoke. The smoke of a pipe…? No, that was not quite it. He recognized it from his past, dug in his memory.

Cigarette smoke.

The odor of the cigarette dwindled before diminishing entirely into the breeze as if someone had put it out and perhaps that was exactly like happened, and with a surprising pace he walked from the statue again, feet on the sturdy solid ground that always felt comfortingly safe for him when the second scent reached his nostrils.

Unlike the other, this one was much more pleasant. It smelled of the past. It pulled him back into a painful nostalgia for a moment, the invisible yet powerful strings of what went before pulling on his heart, eyes widening slightly as he remembered things he had fought to forget before he snapped out of it. It smelled of roses. Of sophistication. Now what sophisticated humanoid, wearing perfume, would wander this far into these unwelcoming hostile mountain woods?

His markings began to glow fiercely; eyes narrowing, the smoke in his eyes increasing as he could feel her being close; very close. And from where he stood now, she probably could see him, too.

—

_{Home of the Childless.}

_{I'm glad, Munkel! Thank you. c:}

_{Thank you. <3}

The man shuddered slightly as the other's eyes turned on him. Strange eyes...Not normal blind eyes. In fact, they fascinated him as well. He took one step forward before seeming to think twice and stepping away again.

Noting the man's change in position, he relaxed as well. Good, he hasn't come off as a threat this time. Again, his hand unconsciously ran down the small scars, then back up to his face. He noted the way the man was clutching that thin pole, noting that he himself carried no weapon save for the skin on his back and the others hidden somewhere safe. Weapons worried him and he shuffled nervously for a moment before realizing what he was doing and stopping himself. Not good to show nervousness.

Hearing the man speak, he nodded once, quickly realizing the man of the ruins probably could not see him.

"Is good name, Blind Seer." Again, he caught himself nodding. It seemed to be an unconscious habit and he mentally cursed himself. "Is called...Bartholomew."

Bartholomew was not a good liar. In fact, every time he chose to lie, it was painted all across his face. Certainly this was his name; but he seemed to be hiding something about it, which he hastened to cover. He found his excuse in the sound of hoofbeats coming closer and he turned around in surprise.

"Is Forest deer! Is so far away from Forest...Is strange," he murmured to himself. His voice seemed to hold a slight tone of worry, quavering softly under his breath. The man made an elegant bow from the waist, smiling at the new arrival. If anything, he respected Forest deer far above most else. Bartholomew figured out quickly that it might not be best to reveal that his origins lay in the Forest as well.

"Is say hello, Little Black," spoke Bartholomew, still smiling at the stranger and glancing at the one he'd called Childless Father. He held no fear of this new one either, being more in awe of forest deer than most else.

PREPARE FOR
A WALL OF TEXT.

Why on earth are all these posts suddenly with such a small font.
PROBABLY MY FAULT.

To parler and Ocean:

-----

“Bartholomew…”
The Childless repeated the name in the hush of a whisper that barely slipped past his lips, barely anything more as a deep rumble within his chest. It was an old name; he may have heard it before for it seemed familiar, but it’d most likely simply belonged to someone from the far, far past that he had left long behind, left to rot. To wither, disintegrate and to forget. Honestly; he was at a point where he was so old, so ancient that every so often, he simply was not aware of the day slipping by every time again and again and again; like whirling mist slipping through his fingers, impossible for him to grasp it and hold onto it, to stop it from fading; from vanishing and evaporating into the chasm of oblivion never to return.

Days that went by entirely unnoticed as his mind was somewhere else, his heart pulled away by the invisible strings of the past that always somehow managed to drag him right back into what he tried, fought, so desperately to forget. As if the world warped and roared around him, where as he stood perfectly still only to let it all take place.
And thus he could only feel the world pass by; feeling like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He stood there, an air of disconnection around him as he quietly and subconsciously repeated the name over and over, barely comprehensible, cut off from everything around him.

Revolving, rotating. Spinning.

The sound of a crow.

A harsh caw breaking the silence.

The man snapped out of the reverie that had captivated him as he heard it; realizing his thoughts once again had drifted off and he turned his attention back to the man called Bartholomew, giving him a somewhat hesitating nod as if he was not used to common greetings and acknowledging manners like this… and to be honest, he wasn’t. It was not that he was particularly discourteous and rude… he simply reacted and acted in the very way he deemed fit, over the years losing all consideration of other people their feelings and reactions to his rather… eccentric reactions from time to time. He could not help it, but over the years, he also had long stopped with giving the least of a damn about that all. Superfluous, petty.
Like many things.
“A fine name… uncommon. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bartholomew.” he nodded slowly, not failing to hear the sound of a shuffle across the ground. The sound of feet. Nervous movement. Fear?
A slight smile distorted his face to a rather terrifying one, the expression almost unfit to the chiseled features, but it faded just as fast.

It was a tiny little sign of acknowledgement of the slight movements of the other man. Nor did he fail to hear how the man very swiftly turned to another subject as if to be rid of the name, as if there was more to it as that he currently told him. Something significant; else there’d be no reason for nervousness after all. even if the Childless was intimidating, when he was as docile as now, there was no reason to fear… more as the usual amount, that is.
Eyes narrowed and his fist clenched the pole a bit tighter, the markings on his long clawed hands glowing a bit fiercer but he managed to hold his tongue, curious why Bartholomew seemed to be… anxious. Tensed, at unease. Surely it couldn’t just be his presence, could it? He was unapproachable, yes, threatening, maybe. But he hadn’t given him any reason to fear. Not yet. Not quite. His thoughts milled but he remained in silence as the man now courteously greeted Dmitri.

Perhaps he would find out later.

His expression had been a determined and rather powerful glare before, staring at Bartholomew intensely, but now he turned his attention to Dmitri again. The perpetually scowling expression on his face softened, turning into a genuine and amused smile as the young buck pressed his side against him as a form of a cuddle; rubbing against his long body as he circled him before slinking away, the Childless answering. “Many deer fear this form… fear the humanoids in general. I prefer not to show it unless by accident like now; or knowing if they’re okay with it.” Else it could result in a couple of antlers goring him again; he wouldn’t forget the tine that had once penetrated him deep in between his ribs anytime soon- scaring a deer was a bad, bad idea. Learned it the hard way indeed. The deer in particular had also learned not to fight a blind man that towered high above him, but that was a whole other story. This pole didn’t just have to serve as a walking stick; that summed it up.

Dmitri however was nothing to be scared of. Even if he could feel the strength of the youngsters body and feel the tines of the antlers scratch a little against his skin, confirming the fact he was very well capable and equipped to fight, the etiquette and courtesy of the buck had always pleasantly surprised him. Although he hadn’t met his ‘mother’ and teacher, his big example, personally; he had heard of her, and from what he’d managed to gather she was quite the well-mannered, polite doe. Dmitri admired her greatly, it seemed; Childless could only guess. No, for Dmitri, he had no fear. Only respect and a, what he deemed to be, a mutual feeling of friendship.

Even if he was such an old being, the interaction with this so, so much younger buck went surprisingly natural; the way Dmitri had grown into the polite but if needed fierce deer having to do with that, no doubt. The youth of the other was refreshing.
"Why are you not surprised?” The ancient man tilted his head a little, raising one of his eyebrows as he attempted to look at the buck; glancing just a bit past him. ”Oh, but I am. I said I couldn’t say I was not surprised to see you.” he smiled just a bit, very faint, the markings on his face barely showing this change in his features that turned his terrifying, rather masculine features to one that displayed actual emotion. “You’ve wandered so far from the forest; alone… hence my surprise.” he was curious why, but he doubted that Dmitri would not tell it to him himself.

The Childless turned around and listened to their interaction quietly as he calmly used his pole to navigate himself making sure not to step into a sudden hole in the ground or anything alike; hearing and feeling how the weather was changing from a calm but chilly one to a storm. He could feel it. Felt his element. Felt where he was supposed to be, where he was supposed to roam.
The skies churned and ripped open; blasting lightning across the heavens with a roar, the wrath of a fallen deity gathering amongst the clouds. Fallen indeed. Fallen to ruins.

Fallen like /these/ ruins.

Thank goodness the canopy protected them in this case; they were safe, low.
He turned his attention back from the skies where he’d been looking at with eyes that saw nothing to the ruins again, dangerously long claws tracing and stroking the inscriptions upon a stone slab that was still attached to one of the pillars; long ragged fabric of his clothing dragging across the ground with each careful step he hesitatingly took.
By feeling, he could see. He felt the texture, the temperature. Knew what it was made of. Smelled the dampness of the moss; felt the inscriptions, recognized their shapes. Reflected the beauty of the past back to unseeing eyes. He was not all that blind.

"These ruins must be gorgeous under this horrid vegetation."Dmitri’s voice made him tilt his head a little, turning just a bit over his shoulder to hear him better, and he slowly nodded, more to himself as to anyone else. “They are… well, they were. I’m not too sure now.” He saw the past for a moment again. Long ago; when he walked amongst mortals as they were oblivions to who he was. This temple had bustled with life. Now, ruins. No people. Barely anyone that came by anymore to appreciate the broken beauty.

This temple reflected himself, almost.

"Are they still in inhabitable?" The Childless shook his head; turning his body to the buck. “No… these ruins are long, long abandoned.” He looked around, imagining what they had to look like, what they should’ve looked like. “Abandoned and forgotten by the people… not by the God it was devoted to. Not quite… not yet. Now these ruins just offer shelter for small animals and allow the growth of plants, it appears.” he let out a snort as he continued with a mumble, “And blind old fools, obviously. Hah. But these ruins have been glorious. I just like to pay my respect to its remains.” not... entirely true.
There was more to it as that.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
To celticmystress.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eternal. Ancient. Like a primordial primal creature that had risen from the water of the prehistoric seas where life began; where the Abiogenesis first began, the start of it all, the beginning. The dawn of time and the waking of life. The hand of time had never quite managed to get a proper grasp of this man and he stood apart from it, disconnected. The world twisting and turning with a roar; and he himself in the eye of the storm where nothing happened, watching how the chaos around him developed. Never pulling him in. Ever attempting, but always failing. A phantom amongst life, untouchable, unaffected.

He stood there; merely waiting, listening patiently, expectant of a reaction for his sudden emergence from his shelter.

After all… he had the time.

And thus he observed.

He breathed in deep, his large broad chest rising before lowering again; the muscles rolling under his dark black skin. Searing hot breath evaporated into smoke as it touched the cold air, seeping from his nostrils like an angry bull would; Childless his expression adamant as if it was carved out of the very stone of his environment. He stood out and yet he blended in perfectly.

His simple clothing diminished nothing from his primal display of pure ancient power; his upper body covered a ragged cloth mantle, black embroidered with white thread , the rest of his chest under garments of the same material. The simple clothing almost clashed with his elaborate tattoos. What he wore was nothing special, it was ragged, weather-beaten. It fit. Blended.

Appearance was not exactly something he paid attention to, after all.

His tattoos simply glowed through the fabric as the cold did not seem to touch him at all; not shivering, nothing. Not the tiniest bit of discomfort. Around broad, strong hips were several thick buckled belts; covering some of his muscled abdomen. Tinny little ornaments were attached to them; wooden black beads, small metal totems, a couple of metal rings… all of them with runes to match with those of his upper body. Although his feet were completely bare, allowing the best navigation and feel of his environment he could get his just as black trousers were very long, some parts bound in with bandages to keep it from dragging across the ground.

What he wore was nothing special. It was the way that the man carried himself, the pure dominating power he pulsated, the vibe of eternity lingering with him. The mist that seemed to accompany him one way or another. That was why others often feared him; why they steered far from him. His primal, majestic regality. Bizarre and yet impressive, ominous.

His head tilted just a tad as he heard her voice. It was a strong one; powerful, beautiful. He heard her clearly through the quiet that’d played for those few intense seconds just now.

"I was admiring your temple. It speaks for itself..."

Slowly but surely, a smile played just a bit around his lips; the dominating pose not changing, but his hand relaxing, now holding the pole instead of clenching it with crushing strength. Her voice was confident; there was no fear. That surprised him.

It were often the women that truly feared him.

He nodded slowly; taking a step forward. And another. And another. Very slowly he walked through the ruins towards her, fingers tracing a statue when he stopped, feeling the moss over the face. Feeling the silent scream of this stone embodiment of the fallen guardian. Broken.
He recalled the past, briefly. How the words of the peasants and nobles filled these rooms with breath. Once this temple sheltered the most powerful one of the gods.

That was long ago.

His voice was like the sound of a stone grave slowly being opened; a mausoleum letting in air from the outside. Not used to talking. It was deep, heavy… raspy. “I hear the footsteps echo loudly in the darkness of these remains.” he continued his stride; speaking loud enough for her to hear even if she could not face him. Fingers traced the large stone slab in the middle of the temple, examining the texture. “I am an intruder on the past and I can hear them… It feeds my soul with memories that are no longer mine. But they know me here.” His voice was strangely melodic. Beautiful, in some way. Not entirely unpleasant.

He turned his body, facing her now. This beautiful temple was not nothing more as bared columns of stone, cracked bricks, ruined rooms. He heard them faintly echoing with the prayers and hymns ghostly scented with a musky incense. Stone visages of guardians, of men and women, of the people now stood cracked and crumbled.
Lack of faith. Lack of remembrance.
“From dust we came, to dust we become. Welcome.”

"I enjoy your human form," Dmitri simply stated, uninterested in the aspects of phobias that some deer carried with them. Those fears were useless, unneeded. Most deer he knew resided in the forest, and there were no humans there. At least, none with guns that he knew of. He was surprised that these humans next to him did not display any fear from his appearance; specifically, his mask. It was roughly carved, giving it a battle-worn appearance, although Dmitri had encountered no fights or brawls in his lifetime. There was the faint coloration of dried blood on the elongated pincers of his spidery mask, the remnants of a peculiar and considerably awful diet. These stains might have given off the presence of somebody who had been in a fight, but those assumptions were wrong. Morbidly, Dmitri would kill a bird or other small animal with the pincers, stabbing and slicing until it was dead and its guts were rolling out of the creature's stomach. He would eat them then, unaffected by his predecessors' habit of munching on leaves and grass. Fawns and dead deer were not spared, either.

What a horrible creature he could be, when alone and hungry.

Dmitri's head turned back to glance at Childless at the explained misinterpretation. "I understand," he simply stated. "The forest is not the only beautiful thing on Earth, Childless. I was wishing to find these other beauties, and I have done so," he explained. It was unfortunate that he was so hung up on beauty, on the appearance of things. It would prevent friendships in the future, no doubt. As it seemed now, however, Dmitri was able to find some sort of beauty in the ugly, often finding something morbid about it. But the ugly who were just boring with simple colors... Those deer didn't seem to have a chance. But, as of late, it was becoming harder and harder for him to find an ugly deer. This infuriated him to a degree, as not everybody could be on par or above his standard of beauty. The black stag made a mental note of asking the Geisha about this; if she was finding the same problem.

"Not too sure?" he repeated, a frown appearing under his mask. He was disappointed by this. If it was true, the buck would be in need of finding a new place for him and the Geisha to inhabit. Since he had conjured up the idea, Dmitri was intent on doing so. Perhaps, if it was safe, the Childless Father would allow them to live there whenever they were tired of the forest. Or, perhaps, maybe he would just allow Dmitri to reside there with him. It would all depend on his mood, Dmitri thought. His ears perked at the statement that the civilization's god had not yet abandoned his people and their city, their homes. "How, may I ask, Childless, do you know that their god has not yet moved on to a different culture, tired of watching over the animals that pass through these devastated remains?" he asked, curious now if his friend lived there, now that he had mentioned it sheltered "old blind fools." "You are not old," he said, obviously ignorant of the Father's true age.

Nodding, Dmitri's frown was replaced by a content smile. Only the corners of his mouth twitched, not exceedingly happy that his apology had been accepted. It was just something he should be thankful for, that was all. "Hello, Bartholomew. What an old fashioned name you have; I'm jealous," he said, complimenting him. It wasn't a lie that he was jealous, as Dmitri enjoyed old fashioned things, but it was also said in order to get on the others good side. He did not want, nor need, any enemies. Supposing, being the Geisha's "child," her enemies were passed down onto him, as well. Dmitri doubted he had met any of these deer, however.

The rain drop that plopped onto Bartholomew's face went unnoticed, as he had closed his eyes to better listen to the roaring thunder above. No, the storms would not come for a while. "It is a very nice place, yes. I wish it was uncovered by the leaves," the buck said in agreement with Bartholomew.

There! <3

For Parler and Ocean:
--------------------------------------------

The rustle of the leaves of the vegetation and canopy above grew louder; the sound indicating that the fresh morning breeze that’d blown so gently before had turned into a much more forceful, harsh gust of wind. Even if the weather was changing, here these ruins were cradled in the embrace of the forest around them, protecting them from the wind, the rain. Most of it, that is; some drops always managed to slip through the cracks, even if the rain was nothing more as a barely noticeable drizzle hardly worth mentioning. It didn’t surprise the Childless that the weather was slowly turning around; it always did around this place. It’d been a long time since the sun had truly kissed these ruins to bathe them in warmth… instead, the melancholic and almost grieving atmosphere seemed to linger here eternally.

Curtains of dark clouds were draped across the skies, still. Like a spider web lightning cracked across so now and then yet never coming near them; as if the upcoming storm avoided the place.

Perhaps it did.

The man who carried the name Bartholomew, someone who had been nothing more as a stranger to him before, seemed to be pulled away by his problems so now and then to a place where Dmitri and the Father could not tread, but the blind man did not fail to notice the lingering and delay of the man’s words, nor did he miss the slight step back at the increase of the Childless his glow and hostility, even if he was laid back and calm now. It did not have to do with anger, nor intimidation. It was merely his natural distrust to those he did not know.

Through all these years, centuries that he had walked like a phantom amongst life, leaving no footprints embedded in the earth like a ghost that was supposed to fade away a long time ago, he had learned that monsters were everywhere, and that hardly anything or anyone could be trusted these days. In the end, everything could and would turn against you if it would work in their favor. It would not be the first time that when everything was at stake, he would see his closest friends, his companions and those who he had trusted and protected with his life, under the banner of the enemy.

These days he could see through those people without trouble. See through their lies. It was one of the things where his lack of sight greatly benefit him; for their masquerades of beauty and smiles were invisible and nonexistent to him.

And besides… what being would lie to a man of time without end?

His brow furrowed. A fool. That’s who.

The bloody, guttural wheezing of a man whom he’d taught a brutal lesson of honestly would never fail to sound like a delightful pained rhapsody to him. A sunshine melody pouring from their lips.

The sinister expression on his face made his eyes glow viciously; a cruelty that faded as he heard the raspy voice thankfully pull him away from his spiteful malice again.

"I enjoy your human form."

That statement of young Dmitri made him smile. The reason why he trusted this youth was simply that the things he said and answered were always sincere and straightforward, never laced with a false air of sweetness or deception. No, they were honest, true. That also meant that anything the youngster did not like or appreciated would not be swallowed by a tongue held back and the Childless had a feeling that just that relentless honesty would bring the velvet deer into a huge bunch of trouble one day, and thus he kept a watchful protective eye on him.

Well; so to speak.

“I’m glad.” He answered simply, a slight smile pulling on his lips, but he didn’t turn himself to the deer; attention at the stone slab as he kneeled, touching the runes. They were engraved deep and had never quite faded away, but no one but him was left to be able to read it, a language long forgotten, long left unspoken. Those who had carved it had long come to a violent end. When their days had counted and their granted days of grace passed, standing before the Gods, they were denied access to the heavens, were they not?
The Childless cringed as he heard a mournful screech of grief and destruction. A screech the other two could most likely not hear; and if they did, it’d most likely sound like a violent gust of wind, laced with the cries of the fallen that could be mistaken for the howling of the storm. Their voices sounded fractured.

The shiver faded; the pulsating of his tattoos however increased.

Strange how it was that Dmitri’s voice calmed the man down surprisingly fast; the sound of it pleasantly soothing as he used the pole to sturdy himself when he stood up. The sound of someone familiar to him, one considered as a friend, never failed to calm him. "The forest is not the only beautiful thing on Earth, Childless. I was wishing to find these other beauties, and I have done so." It was incredibly ironic how beauty mattered so much to the young buck while the Father could not see, unable to witness the beauty worth so much to Dmitri. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He mused softly, smiling at him, before continuing to trace the runes around the ruins; dangerously sharp claws caressing the dark stone. "Not too sure?" “Well;” he started, mumbling a bit before speaking up, “I can’t see how it looks, now. But there lies beauty in ruin… beauty comes in many forms. Even something broken can be beautiful.” For him, beauty could be a voice; a sound, a soft scent carried by a breeze, the feeling of a structure, the feeling of someone else near him. Beauty, for him, always laid in words and personality.

The next question surprised him. His eyebrows raised and he turned a bit to the buck; surprised he was, but pleased. Dmitri had always been a sharp fellow during the time he knew him, sharp and inquisitive, intelligent. Even if the beauty of the outside was important to him, he had always been willing to learn from him, the Father answering any question he had for him even if he sometimes replied with half a riddle.
"How, may I ask, Childless, do you know that their god has not yet moved on to a different culture, tired of watching over the animals that pass through these devastated remains?" his features, dark almost like they were carved out of the stone these ruins were made of, changed as a smile feathered across them. It was a very faint one, but it was there before fading, making his face as stern as always. “Because this place was, and is, devoted to him and him alone. No one visits these ruins anymore. No more prayers or confessions are whispered; no more sacrifices upon the stone slab. Those devoted to him stayed faithful to him until the very end.” he shook his head slowly, turning to the direction of the stone slab. “Even when he abandoned them… and when he returned it was too late. He owes them this much. I suppose it’s a mixed feeling of guilt and lingering melancholy… for his devoted are no more. And what is a god without those dedicated and faithful to him? ” an old fool, that’s what. "You are not old.” Dmitri protested and the Father let out a snort, a harsh amused chuckle. “But I am a blind fool.” He snickered, the man’s strange sense of humor never failing amuse no one but, well, him. He was rarely vociferous when amused, so this was rare; the faint amusement of the man almost out of place.

"Is what God devoted to? Is very nice place...Is very quiet here, yes. Is this one wonder why abandon such nice place. Is this one not abandon."
He turned his head slightly to Bartholomew as he traced the stained stone slab of the center of this temple. “This place is not abandoned… not quite. The God lingers, the mournful screeches of his followers linger.” He could smell the incense they burned here in the past. A smell just for him, making his nostrils flare. “It was devoted to one of the strongest, most wrathful Gods who was probably the most difficult Deity to keep pleased… he who reigned the skies and clouds, walked amongst lightning, his ear-splitting voice like thunder.” His eyes narrowed just a bit, the mist flaring. “His static still shoots across the breaking skies once in a while; hunting the heavens, ripping apart the clouds, saturating the earth with rain like the heavens cry because of his anger. The God of Storms.” He concluded his short story, nodding slowly. Perhaps the most wrathful deity of all indeed. “The fact there are still storms hardly says anything… these storms feel different.” He whispered, voice lost in the sound of the rustling leaves.

“Dmitri;” he suddenly began, turning his head to face him somewhat, “the scent of blood lingers with you. Is it yours?” he could very well smell it wasn’t, but the Childless as merely sinisterly curious of what the youngster would say. Of course he would do nothing to him if he lied, he wouldn’t even point it out, he merely wanted to know the bucks reaction; even if he lied, his opinion on the buck would hardly change. He’d caught the smell from the moment his young friend came to meet them; and he could not help but wonder.

------------------------------------------------------------------
For Celticmystress;
------------------------------------------------------------------

The man’s voice seemed held back with every word that passed his lips; like he could speak with the power of a choir echoing in a cathedral, a deep ancient voice that was laced with the strength of roaring thunder. It rumbled within his chest, a rumble no different as that of the brewing storm that loomed above them. Quelled. Yet as he said nothing, he seemed the strongest; of all the weapons, silence was the sharpest sword. He did by no means want to intimidate her, this new arrival, this new presence that brought a delicate air of sophistication with her, one that really did quite intrigue the man, the wandering being that looked like he had been carved out of the very stone of these ruins, a living remain, a flickering reminiscence of the past.

Yet this lady… she was something else. The Father did not need his eyes to see, to feel that; her voice, her scent. A humanoid she was. Not necessarily a human. It piqued his interest, his desire to learn and to gather more knowledge. To get to know.

"Honored to have stumbled upon this dwelling, and yourself. And even more honored to be welcomed... forgive my intrusion-- my name is Bones; to most.” The Childless smiled faintly at her, a tilted sightless gaze that seemed to bend around her despite resting straight at her, had he been able to see. “There is nothing to forgive you for.” He mused, his voice melodic, hollow, almost.
"Lady Bones, more specifically to more formal acquaintances .. but you may call me by either."
Like a true being of sophistication she’d told him her title; his lips turning slightly to a bit of a smile, faint, expressions seemingly never very strong on his face as if carved from stone. “Lady Bones…” he whispered after her, tasting her scent in the air; one frail and pleasant, that of roses, laced with strong feminine splinters, cigarette smoke upon her breath laying underneath. Now that was one he hadn’t smelled in a while indeed, nothing quite like it. One he could get used to. “…it is an honor to make your acquaintance.” The way she spoke was sharp, very formal, beautiful. Clashing with his own almost primal way of speaking, as if he was not used to talk a lot. Frankly; he wasn’t. “One as courteous as yourself is hardly an intruder.”

A wish of four lifetimes… that indeed had confirmed his thoughts, his suspicions, if she meant what he thought she did. A lady that had walked the earth for a long time, gathering knowledge on her long way, losing and gaining people, losing friends, losing love, losing so many things and yet she walked and spoke strong, no fear or grief in her voice; even if it was there, he was unable to pick it up.

Admirable, for he knew what it was like to lose someone dear.

He was blinded but he yearned for them, their flesh silver in his memory, finding nothing but their absence in the imprint they left etched into his skin. But no longer did his bones rack in his grief for them, was his face ravaged with sorrow. The war had raged on, soldiers had fallen and withered, the fire had burned, Death had claimed, and he had remained all that time. One day he would fall, and flowers would grow from his rotting body, from his dying essence that had granted life. And that, that would be eternity.

The Father’s fingers caressed the dainty petals of a small white flowers; the delicate gentle scent flaring his nostrils. A flower that grew on a statue forever carved in a moment, like the rest of this temple, once part of something so much bigger.
Now, for most, it was nothing more as a heap of crumbling rocks, broken statues. For him, something much more. He breathed in the chilly air that had cradled him for sleeping centuries, cradled this withering city in a scorched embrace. Infinite existence, but in a finite world, that meant nothing.


He turned; pacing to the center of the temple, giving her a look first, as if inviting her, allowing her to come along; something only enforced by the fact that he spoke again after the few seconds of silence that’d played between them. “Call me the Childless. The Father. The blind old fool.” A chuckle. “Call me which ever you may prefer, I am not picky. If I may ask; what brings a lady to ruins such as these?”

Bartholomew laughed quietly, looking up into the darkened sky now. Eyes closed and a strange smile upon his lips, perhaps he looked a bit frightening. He continued chuckling for a few minutes, only opening his eyes when he had finished. His smile, however, was quite warm and friendly when he turned it on the others, though something sad seemed to flicker behind his eyes.

"Is powerful storm coming. Is perhaps coming too quickly for this one's wishes."

Perhaps Childless would catch the meaning behind his words. Perhaps not. Bartholomew knew it would come sooner or later; sooner or later, both of them would know exactly what he was.
He was ready for a fight when that happened. His kind was not well liked. The smile upon his face twisted slightly. Barty himself knew that there was good reason behind that.

Self-consciously, he wiped his face once more, spreading the dirt there around.
Did he care if they knew? Maybe not so much anymore. One small kernel of hope rested within him, that perhaps these two would be different, that maybe they wouldn't know.
Maybe they wouldn't know what he'd done to get this way either.

When the other deer spoke, Bartholomew smiled. "Is never liked name." He shrugged, tilting his head at the deer. "Is say old fashioned. Is not know old fashioned." He placed a finger to his chin, tapping it once.

"Is say thank you for compliment, Dmitri." Names to him were different than they were to most, in constant flux and easily changed. Names meant nothing when it came down to it; everybody could get a new one. But true names...There was where the problem lay.
One could only have one true name. His was guarded with a passion. Very few knew it and very few would ever know it. True names meant power.

And without at least a tiny bit of power, he would have nothing.

"Is forest Heaven. Is not only place on Earth that is beautiful, but is Heav--" Suddenly realizing that he had revealed himself as another deer of the forest, Barty fell quiet. The forest or the Gods always seemed to pull his secrets from him. He couldn't resist defending them, not after what had happened. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair.

How to cover this mistake? Maybe a small lie wouldn't give him away.

"Is seen before. Is walk into once. Is think very beautiful." It wasn't a full lie, but it still fell just a tiny bit too flat. He tried to compound it with a smile, brushing it off as Childless Father began to speak again.

Barty was no expert, but Childless Father seemed to be hiding something. He knew quite a bit about this temple and their origins; seemed like he'd seen it firsthand. The man wouldn't push the subject, though. He respected secrets. He did, however, look the Childless Father over once, having seen the increasing glow of the markings.

Something was wrong.

That worried Bartholomew. Not for his own safety this time, but for the Childless Father's. Seeing the man like this bothered him immensely. Whatever it was, the man seemed somewhat pained by something. The thoughts of his own secret were washed from his head as he stepped forward, coming close enough to a pillar to nearly touch it. The man listened quietly to the description of the God who had ruled here.

"Is sound very powerful. Is not mess with one like that. Is sound very wild. Is sound free." A note in his voice seemed sour at the last word and he stepped forward once more. His gaze turned on the stone slab as he wondered quietly what exactly was sacrificed there.

"Is okay, Blind Seer? Is seem..." What did he seem? Barty couldn't put a finger on it. "...distant." He shook his head once, turning to Dmitri. He hadn't really noticed the scent of blood, maybe too preoccupied with his own issues. He, too, was curious.

Maybe they were all hiding something.

_{[ You guys are amazing and I try my best to write something somewhat equal, but I'm going to have to do some stuff for school first, and there's some stress that makes me unable to write. Sorry guys; reply will come tomorrow. Hope you understand. I'll edit this post. ]}

[ Aaargh sorry for the late reply, guys! Been busy ;__; and it's okay, Ocean! You guys are awesome for putting up with me and your writing is marvelous. ]

For celticmystress:
-----------------------------------------
Beautiful…
Yes, these ruins were beautiful. Upon this great mountain slope, if one dared to tread far from the paths set out for one to follow without risk; if one ascended this elevation, they would reach the gutted skeleton of the temple.
What most would miss was how they’d have treaded along the remains of the civilization already, walking past fallen statues, walls, the foundations of houses, buildings, piles of rubble.
All of them were overgrown by the thick, lush vegetation; lichen, moss, ivy, ferns, all sorts of trees. The stone was covered, hidden; turning the once glorious city now in a biome for animals alone, who witnessed their beauty for what it was now, rather for what it once was.

The Childless could only wish he had that ability; but his unseeing eyes could only see what once was, rather what it was now. The word ‘beauty’ meant little to him… visual beauty, that was.
The sturdy remains of a masonry still stood; some walls, some statues that’d stayed out of nature’s grasp. If enough time passed, this too would have fallen to the hand of nature, to the fist of Time, claiming back what was theirs.

Clawed hands perused the inscriptions upon the slab; stained so much in the past that not even the weather managed to wash it off. A small remain of the past. He’d read this time after time after time; he remembered them word by word, each letter, each inscription, and yet he’d read them every day again.

It had something soothing feeling at least they were still there. Lingering like he did.
Her voice made him tilt his head a little more in her direction to make sure he would not miss any of her words; rising to his feet again. “Such unforgiving names, it is a shame you must bear their titles... they seem unfitting for you, my friend.” He could not help but smile faintly. It was a shame; not that he had to bear them, it was a shame what he’d done to earn them in the first place. He deserved them; he’d have to carry them upon his shoulders along every step he took.

It was his own fault.

His true name could not even be pronounced by human vocal cords; his spoken name was one he kept secret. His titles were what he would be called for now.

“I have sought out the ancient remains of the fabled, and found many. For some reasons I am not so proud of. To make my fortune, and perhaps to find...” she piqued his interest with her words, words with the voice that sound like the wisdom of a woman who had seen so much, who had been so much. Who had done so much. Reasons she was not proud of; but he did not fail to hear she did not say she actually regretted them. A woman who’d accepted she’d done things that were better left unspoken, but was not afraid to look back at them.
Now that was strength.

”I suppose it is safe to say I was hunting for meaning within their walls, more than treasure. Maybe an answer whispered to me through the ages. No such luck. Hah, it all seems a bit too fantastic... but one may hope.”

The Childless smiled. She was the very first he’d ever spoken to that was not hunting for long lost treasure in the form of materialism; the sought knowledge. Answers. And they were here; they were everywhere, for those who knew where to look. And looking without eyes made the searching a lot easier in this case. Seeing without sight made one able to look right through everything superfluous; piercing into the answer. Piercing into truth.

Material could fade. Cities could crumble. People died and rot away; plants withered. But knowledge would not fade… as long as people were left to remember. “One will never find if one stops seeking. Even if you look subconsciously… one still seeks.” Never stop looking for knowledge. Never stop looking for someone if you really wish to find them.
That was one of the last things that enabled him to still walk the surface of this earth.
He wasn’t done searching for someone.
Once he would get proof that person was truly gone; that was when he would be ready and would let the wrath of the Great one take him away. But not yet.

Not… quite.

“No, Father, I do believe I have come across a temple where its god still dwells, merely by chance. The honor is all mine."
She hit the nail on the head.
He didn’t answer to that, merely gave her a nod; wondering quietly if she knew.
Perhaps she was aiming at the ambience of this place; but he had a feeling that an intelligent woman who had lived and survived a, what he presumed a dangerous life, could figure it out soon enough.

And that’s when her words hit him like an arrow. He knew she did not mean it in a suspicious way; she yearned for knowledge, the temple having captivated her. "What happened to them?"
He did not turn; his back to her, but his voice loud enough for her to hear, eyes staring into nothingness.

“They died.” He answered simply; a moment of silence before he elaborated. “They were abandoned, more precisely. Abandoned by the god they revered; who left them for selfish reasons. When he came back it was too late… he had not been there to protect his followers. They are gone; yet their faith lingers.”

Their songs echoed. Hymns of the dead.

Their incense could still be smelled.

Sometimes it felt like one brushed by when you lingered here long enough.

“And that’s why their god can’t leave. A fallen deity staying with guilt in his heart.”
-----------------------------------
for parler and ocean:
-----------------------------------

"Is forest Heaven. Is not only place on Earth that is beautiful, but is Heav--"

Bartholomew paused.

An unlucky pause.

A pause that took just a bit too long.

"Is seen before. Is walk into once. Is think very beautiful."

Childless his eyes narrowed. Even with the awkward sentence construction of the other man, the blind Father could pick out lies without fail, and that pause took too long, voice laced with deceit. One who had walked the earth for as long as he had, seeing nothing and relying on voice when communicating, it was a very, very unwise idea to lie.
Whatever this man was, it was likely that the Childless did not mind nor care; but lying… that was a whole other story. Lying meant he was hiding something. Bartholomew was not the only one with secrets; but the Childless did not lie. He simply did not spill anything; never saying yes or no, always answering in a riddle. He didn’t feel like telling.

But he certainly did not lie.

And if there was one thing he did not like; it’d have to be liars.

He wanted to provoke for a moment, but he said nothing, turning attention to Dmitri for now. He’d get to the other man; all in due time. He was not in a rush. When people hid something he never really put any effort into it to find out what it was simply because he couldn’t care less. Everyone had something they did not want to tell. But lying meant hiding something dangerous. And he’d be damned if he’d be caught by surprise.

His hand clenched the pole tighter.

He was not once to attack and lash out without a proper reason, not at all. but he had lived long enough to stop trusting anyone, and even those close to him could feel his wrath when he deemed that it was necessary. The pole that seemed innocent like some kind of walking stick could turn around to become a lethal weapon if needed.

He was blind; not helpless, and not some kind of handicapped old fool despite what he called himself which he honestly did merely because of the tiny bit of awkward humor he had left.

"A god without worshipers is a forgotten deity.” Dmitri spoke and Childless nodded. “Correct. However this God is not quite forgotten; it is his own fault he lost his followers, his status. He is fallen.” He was rambling; telling Dmitri more as that he had initially intended. For some reason without too much prying the young man managed to get him to talk; although he obviously did not spill enough for Dmitri’s liking, the young man frustrated with the Father’s secrecy, concealing so many mysteries. Maybe it was cruel; but he couldn’t help but to be amused.

"Just because you are blind does not mean you are a fool." “I know.” He answered shortly; not in a harsh way, but simply answering without elaborating one bit as always; that was the very thing that had frustrated Dmitri quite often before. How the Childless never said a word more as he deemed necessary and frankly, that really was not much.

Claws tapped the slab with a sigh and he stood up; leaving the inscriptions he’d been reading for what they were for now. "Is sound very powerful. Is not mess with one like that. Is sound very wild. Is sound free." “Oh, he was dangerous. He was wild; ruthless, full of wrath who brought destruction in his furious wake, yet life when content. He was free. He really was.” He mumbled. Yes, that god had been free, long ago. Now the god of Storms was nothing more as a fallen deity. Fallen and long forgotten by many. Forgotten but not quite lost.

Eyes narrowed at Dmitri as he waited for a demanded answer; as Bartholomew stated, the smell of blood was distant, but the fact that there was a scent like that present at all worried him quite enough. "Noo; It's the blood of a parrot I killed and ate; I was hungry and it was fluttering around my head like a fly. Why do you ask?"

He’d killed a parrot and ate it?

What on earth?

The amusement laid thick in the youth’s voice; and although the Father was glad enough that he had not killed anything like a child or eaten a corpse like some kind of cannibal, this shocked him, somewhat. His slightly crooked nose cringed at the idea. Disgusting. “…that’s awfully sinister.” He mumbled; leaning slightly against the blood-stained stone slab. “I asked because I wanted to know where the scent came from. That is all.” and I wanted to know if you’d speak the truth; considering I could tell it was not your blood. I was wondering how that scent stained your breath. I wanted to know if you were a killer.
Well; at least Dmitri did not lie.
The youth was delightfully honest.

“…I would’ve never quite expected that from you.”

Birds? Fine.

But that better be as far as it’d go. Kicking a bird right from the sky, to kill it, simply because it was annoying…

…that was macabre.

"They died. They were abandoned, more precisely. Abandoned by the god they revered; who left them for selfish reasons. When he came back it was too late… he had not been there to protect his followers. They are gone; yet their faith lingers. And that’s why their god can’t leave. A fallen deity staying with guilt in his heart.” She could hear the rain coming, as it hit the leaves on the trees some distance away, it didn't take long to reach the skeletal remains of the temple. Bones watched as two raindrops trickled down the sculpted cheekbones of a statue, eerie.

There was a pull here, these stones held a power of their own; the memories of those gone held a weight over this place-- and it seemed as if the very skies above rotated around the ruins. Not well-versed in the spiritual, Bones was hesitant to speak of such things, and nearly scolded herself for thinking them. But, what more proof could one want? Everything she'd ever denied-- that which she could not see for her own eyes-- was standing before her. For once, she did not have an opinion, judgement had never entered her mind; sarcasm had never crossed her lips. She felt like a shell, like a mute observer, watching listening to learn; and not speak.

She watched as his long black claws felt the surface of the symbols, her eyes caught faint whiskers of red embedded in the stone cracks... her breath caught in her throat briefly. Bones furrowed her brow and took a step toward the altar, as the rain washed over her white hair. "Your people loved you very much." she stated, observing him. "And to that they hold."

Bones wondered how such a seemingly advanced civilization could be wiped out without the aid of a deity, had he been gone for long? Didn't they have the means to defend themselves...? Did some escape? The rain came harder now and she moved in closer to the altar, where there was some shelter from the rain. It would appear that she would have to linger here for awhile, so long as he didn't mind the company. She took a seat on the stone floor of the temple and looked up at him, "I can't relate to having followers but, I can say remorse for things I have done follows me as well-- one without regret, is lifeless." from the way she spoke, one might doubt the clever woman ever felt the sting of guilt or regret at all; but somewhere hidden beneath the surface, she was tortured as well.

His words hit something inside her she didn't often think of, the times she had been wrong. The times she observed terrible things, and did nothing to stop them. The times she herself did horrors. Regret followed her like a black cloud, but she did not dwell on it, those days are long gone. She faced the shadows and skeletons that followed her through her existence, instead of avoiding them. The things she did not speak of, and were non-existant to anyone but herself and the ghosts that followed her. But they could not speak... lucky enough for them.

What good would it do to speak of her regrets? She might garner sympathy, and what could she do with that? Except pity herself and wallow in her own self hatred...again. Yes, she had spent decades in the darkest depression life could give, but the only way out for the immortal, was to rise above it. Years it had taken her to realise that if she loathed regret, she loathed pity for herself even more. Though the woman was known for giving sympathy, taking it was another matter entirely. Now, it appeared to everyone around her that she hadn't encountered a scrap of guilt in the four centuries she walked the earth... because she had long ago come to terms with it. It isn't so frightening anymore, looking back.

Bones closed her eyes for a moment, listening... trying to see without sight, like the blind god beside her. Searching.

_{(No stress! I am sure we can wait. If you just want to leave the roleplay, just say so. It's all good. <3 )}

(I agree with everybody. 8D I can wait. ^^)

_{asjkdf sorry I've been so busy with artwork and school. OTL
I'll go on with ours soon, Celtic.}