Anti-Hero
Reflections of Lighted Shadow
"I am a warrior, not a saint. I am not sinless, for I have met Justice in its inadequate forms. I am the Justice none like to see."
He walked through the night to familiar ground.
It was mere sand, stone and dock wood but he was glad for the modified shoes that had been made for him. He knew what this ground was but half-thought it might burn his feet for their trespasses -- for fleeing. For his tenets held so highly in the relative depravity of the place called Rhy'Din.
He reflected as he stood in the place where a building once resided, on things of the past. On things too ephemeral for him to hold.
It served as a reminder, one he couldn't be away from for too long.
The sea roared to him.
Where I have gone. What changes come over me, that I am here? What I have met and endured. What price I paid for the iniquities of the human kind. Still. The dark is gone yet no light stands.
I am who I am.
The wind howled in his ear.
Things were done here. Words said here. This is not escaped but they are shadows. They will not be left to the ages. Look after what humans fail to guard. Hold up what humans fail to embrace and do what is sworn to do. Dark, yes, but dark is not evil.
Dark is not evil.
He walked on ground he knew well enough to not need a cane for and smiled quietly at the fond memories, comparatively few that they were. He circled the boundaries of what once was, traced their ghosted hallways and imagined it was still there. It wasn't; he knew. But it was forever immortal in his mind, like so many other places.
Dark, not evil.
He liked the sound of that and as he came upon the statue he'd erected so long ago, he smiled again. His mask never came off. His hair never came unshrouded this night, but he was dark. And in the dark, one was concealed. Thus, he remained in his steel blue clothes trimmed in gold. He was a mariner, an explorer, a tavern cook and guard. He was a nomad and a warrior.
He was Anti-Hero and that was all right.
Reflections of Lighted Shadow
"I am a warrior, not a saint. I am not sinless, for I have met Justice in its inadequate forms. I am the Justice none like to see."
He walked through the night to familiar ground.
It was mere sand, stone and dock wood but he was glad for the modified shoes that had been made for him. He knew what this ground was but half-thought it might burn his feet for their trespasses -- for fleeing. For his tenets held so highly in the relative depravity of the place called Rhy'Din.
He reflected as he stood in the place where a building once resided, on things of the past. On things too ephemeral for him to hold.
It served as a reminder, one he couldn't be away from for too long.
The sea roared to him.
Where I have gone. What changes come over me, that I am here? What I have met and endured. What price I paid for the iniquities of the human kind. Still. The dark is gone yet no light stands.
I am who I am.
The wind howled in his ear.
Things were done here. Words said here. This is not escaped but they are shadows. They will not be left to the ages. Look after what humans fail to guard. Hold up what humans fail to embrace and do what is sworn to do. Dark, yes, but dark is not evil.
Dark is not evil.
He walked on ground he knew well enough to not need a cane for and smiled quietly at the fond memories, comparatively few that they were. He circled the boundaries of what once was, traced their ghosted hallways and imagined it was still there. It wasn't; he knew. But it was forever immortal in his mind, like so many other places.
Dark, not evil.
He liked the sound of that and as he came upon the statue he'd erected so long ago, he smiled again. His mask never came off. His hair never came unshrouded this night, but he was dark. And in the dark, one was concealed. Thus, he remained in his steel blue clothes trimmed in gold. He was a mariner, an explorer, a tavern cook and guard. He was a nomad and a warrior.
He was Anti-Hero and that was all right.