(A fourth entry from the mind of Lord Telmorn Altayon. Follow his fears, his strengths… ~ Thomas J. Bellezza)
• Left to bleed
A Lord. Scorn to feel their flesh in weak gallops of my thoughts. They are frail without reason. Soaked in constant question of purpose. I once felt bad of their pain. I held suns away from their eyes and spread shadow into their days. Protecting them, loving them, for no other creature saw such sadness as I did in their ways. I worshiped cries of my name to heal their sick. Punish those who sought revenge. I became their father, their mother. I was their bath to clean action away from their fears.
When my hate shunned my love for them I found my purpose. Destroy them. Take away their pride. Believe them into exile. I heard their words in hideous pain. My mind would pound with each sound ever burning from their mouths. I wanted to feel their flesh curling along melting rocks along the seas of Torin. It hit my boundless battle within to a calming halt. It sooth my sins of any action I left to control. I only had my touch to lay down upon. Covered in every desire to free these creatures of anymore failure.
I knelt down in my own quarrels. My hands behind my head, pulling me down between my legs. I heard her. The sound of silk stepping along the air. I couldn’t look up. I knew I had no right to see what beauty had been holding down my will. She placed her soft perfect hand on my naked back. I felt each line of her finger laying peace on me. A mortal. A living mortal moving me. Nothing was said; she pulled my chin, looking up to her eyes. A Lord. A dying Lord laid in her grace.
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