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You stir my natural emotions, Cary.
IP: 165.247.1.121
Posted on June 8, 2010 at 01:22:40 AM by Simon



Simon is a contradiction at its best.

A fervent mixture of potent sarcasm and dazzling smiles wrapped in a simple brown package. There is nothing special about the fairy, he has no extraordinary abilities or beautiful wings to set him apart from the mundane brood. He will eternally be lost in the million other faces which roam Shaman, such a pity.

Carefully he lifts his head from the stone floor and feels his muscles ache in protest. He had found himself sleeping on the floor again, not even caring to find himself a bed; this was the third time in a week he had passed out in the hall. Simon got onto his feet, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stiffly moved toward the stone window frame. The sun has finally found Shaman again, full and bright as it once was before. It makes his eyes hurt and he squints them before turning away from the window completely.

He still couldn’t bring himself to find the Core his home, it was just a place for pompous snots to carry about putting everyone under their control. But, he would never say it out loud because it would probably land him in a heap of trouble that he couldn’t afford right now. He had already been sat down and given a stern talking to when he told some lady she was quite obnoxious and stupid. Simon claims she kept trying to talk to him and even though he ignored her to his fullest, the woman found it important to pursue a conversation.

Yeah, whatever.

Simon moves quietly down the hall, his shirt is partially untucked from his black trousers and his hair is in shambles. He uses a hand to try and tame the waves but it does no good, the brunette locks just won’t cooperate with him this morning. There is something unmistakably handsome about the wiry build, the solid arms and yet he still is reminiscent to a child. His face still clings to the baby fat, giving him a very soft look even though his eyes are so very harsh.

He bites at the black metal ball in his lip, his thoughts continually rearranging themselves. He knows in the back of his mind he does not belong here with them, he is not truly a fairy in all reality. Simon is not his name, this is not his skin.

No, this fairy belongs to the restless spirit in all animals. A feral and wild thing untouched by the withering hands of weapon induced war. Simon was once a sleek, black stallion who dared that anyone challenge him. He had bested some of the bravest in the land, he had sought to supplant the entire world all for his own childish amusement.

A smile is now on his cold lips, those brooding eyes the same as they had always been before. Simon pushes back his hair from his face, something he had never done before until three weeks prior, and comes out onto a terrace. There is sunlight against his face, warming him from the sharp coldness of the floor and he stands there beneath it.



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