KENSHIN
if I knew you were going to survive
I WOULD HAVE NEVER LET YOU FALL
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COLORS. THIS WORLD HAS MANY COLORS. NEW COLORS ARE CREATED WHEN THE OLD STAIN, DYE AND BLEND. SOME COLORS OVERLAP AND MELT TOGETHER. SOME COLORS CONTINUE TO SINK DEEP.
Kenshin. T'was a name fit for a king. It was the promise that inheritance would bring the first born son riches and power beyond his wildest imagination. He need only wait for it. But power, while left alone, rots. It lets off a stench powerful enough to bring mongrels in. Mongrels scavenge amongst the ruins left over from chaos and disorder. Power draws them in, as a flame does to a moth. And one mongrel managed to grab hold of that power at the weilders weakest time. Families were slaughtered, bloodlines ended and in the midst of that darkness, titles and rights were forgotten. Now, he must be careful... or he would cut himself on a shard of glass left over in the wreckage. Kenshin. A name fit for a king, as many would say. But its owner only viewed it as claim to a shattered promise.
The soldier had been demoted to the exact position as the dog who took over rule. But he knew that it was not the male’s fault. It was the power he had yearned for… that was the true criminal that Kenshin so desperately wanted to annihilate. But one cannot annihilate power. It would be the death of all that is living. Choas and destruction would follow soon after power’s funeral… and the dead man would be lifted from the ground and used as a puppet once more. Life works like that, doesn't it? Life is no game, but there are rules to it. Strange... there's no such thing as rules if there is no game. Rain pelted the immense monster's cloak, soaking him thoroughly to the bone. August was the month of rain. It always came, no matter where Kenshin moved. Rain always came and managed to wash the sins away. At least, for a time it would seem. But the past always came back and haunted the fighter. It stroked him in his sleep, pleasuring him with pain so immense that when he woke, he believed himself to have passed on. However, every rude awakening was the same. He would not see daylight, as Kenshin only moved in darkness. Be that darkness night or rain. But he could smell the promise of tomorrow on the gales tickling his spine with chills. Bones would ache to remind him that he was still flesh. He was still living. And that was something he would never forgive himself for. Living was a curse and Kenshin had been under it for too long. Even at three falls, the young lord was sick of it. There was no gain in it. If one just ends up dying, why keep pretending that trivial matters are important? Those who tolerated this 'living' made the demon sick. Utterly and totally sick.
Rain had hollowed out the bones of which kept the stranger on his way. Crystalline fluid plastered his colors to his cracking bones and warm tendons. Kenshin had been demoted to nothing but a dog and here he was, as one, along the sidelines of some family he didn't even care to know the name of. But, as trained to do, the mutt didn't show anything on his palette. Some kind of looks he must have, for many had mentioned that he would be better off if he wiped the challenging glare out of his narrowed eyes. But Kenshin was no challenger, and his narrowed eyes were but natural for him. Challenging eyes... were a burden that the young adult wanderer had been forced to bear. But those eyes were the only window into the world that the timekeeper lived in. Drugged with some sort of unutterable vengeance he was. And those eyes kept toll on just how many hours clocked by before that seething malice could be released. For now, however, he was kept on a leash he'd crafted himself. Titanium, strong enough to hold him back, strong enough to numb those desires. And now, he was being controlled by someone he would not even acknowledge as a master. Dogs, it is said, choose who their master is. And Kenshin was no exception. But for now, he heeled when he was told to. He spat on the ground, wondering if that was his pride, falling away from him at the speed of sound. Lightning bolted through the dark skies, illuminating that which did not take lightly to having light shed on, and Kenshin turned away from it. Light was not a friend of his.
And here he would wait, patiently (or so it would seem so) until someone was brought to his line of vision. So… Why was he here? Because Saw Tooth was not meant for him. He could not soil their pure hearts with his own blood stained background. He would end them. Corrupt them until their breath was black and smoky as it billowed out of their lungs. They would gasp for breath… hate him. And he would be unable to take on that kind of burden, knowing that he had full well been the cause of it, and not a war or confliction. Kenshin was here because of that one fact. Yes. Dogs do choose who their master is… and after hearing His name whispered amongst the Saw Toothians, Kenshin could not stay put. He had opted out of the pack meeting, which was likely to be too much for him anyway, and instead he took off across the borders, into the night. Years ago, when Kenshin was still a rogue, he had been cornered, taught, and branded. At that time, the lad knew not right from wrong, nor dark from light. He had been born into the lustful arms of chaos and raised in the shadow of corruption. This demon doubted greatly that the Alpha of said Abendrot was the wolf he had been “touched” by. But, as lightning snuck through the dismal cloudy sky once more, he figured that it would do him no harm to at least know.
Kenshin would not cry out to let his presence become known. He would not release his gnarled voice into the atmosphere. But that smile he had displayed for Moth and Kahlan… it was all but gone. Here was not the place to use it. Here, he would most likely receive another ‘kiss.’ If this really was Him… the wanderer was sure that he would be unable to return to Saw Tooth without secrecy engraved into his every move. Here he was, a dog set loose, returning to its rightful master.
TO WHAT COLOR… AM I DYED?
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