Faith In Our Encounter [Priv-Social][Isabel] Jul 30, 2019 20:27:53 GMT -5
Post by 火 S. Tatara on Jul 30, 2019 20:27:53 GMT -5
[attr="class","ren"]AND NOW I'M ALL ALONE IN MY STARLESS MIND
A fresh bosom of turmoil. Covering his pale skin was the crimson stains of red; Faded into his cells, and crystallized along the fresh wounds found near his chest. Yes, his blood. Red as the color, but somewhat velvet. How would such a young man finds himself in this circumstance? The way it dripped slowly off his pecks, down his muscular body; Naturally twitching as he leaked onto stone pavement, creating the littlest of puddles. The situation looked dire. Underneath the wounds was his heart listening to the way his body ached, and twitched. Giving the satisfactory fantasy to their captures. What was his expression during all of this, why was there no screams of pain, was this normal?
Loaded with a grim expression. The itch of hope lingered down his spine, near the shoulder blade. The feeling was as if a fairy was touching him, and trying to gather a reaction. No fairy would have been close, it was more of a reapers glooming shadow. Outcasted above him only leaving his greenish crystals to peer through the depths of darkness. Looking for the bright smile, but in his mind it was nothing but the sea of sorrow. Yes, sorrow. Was there a reason for him to feel sorrow in his escape of nothingness, if nothingness was him, who was he?
A young man with wounds. A young man with no hope. A young man with no position. That’s was his wounds, freshly branded on his chest. Blistering, and oozing of a velvet crimson blood. Pouring down to the ground only in small bunches as if controlled to make his pain slow, and troubling. But no resistance that would drive one crazy. A teenage fever, almost a dream. It was like his heart was being carried through the dark, sheathed in a husk of endless hollows. Second guessing the imagines he saw, but only with his eyes and body could he feel what his mind perceived; What was exactly perceived was his mind playing tricks. Giving him all his doubts a trusted field to leave the young man cold in sweat.
It was his bad, for trusting himself to hold all of this in. The young man in question of himself was, Sebastian Tatara. Tatara, found himself excluded in silence. All that was before was in his mind, not covered in wounds but sweat. The smelly, raunchy sweat that bundles up to leave a sour stain his clothing. The idea of not knowing where he has found himself awaking was in the air; A small room made completely of stone, looking to have one entrance and exit. Looked all to similar to a cellar, not one for people but for storage. The perfect place for him? He thought of himself as an object. As far as he could make out of the dark room, was he was not alone and that he was bound by rusted chains.
Tatara, wanted to make out the room. There was no way for him to do such a thing, due to him being blinded by his hair. Drooping over his forehead into his field of vision, he could only worry about himself and what he could make out from the bottom up to about a person waist-band level. Gulping down air, it shortly stopping and doing that little bobble thing around his adam's apple; Tatara, spoke in a low hum like whisper as if someone else was there. “ Is there anyone else here? “ Not sure as if someone would hear or actually be captured in the storage cellar with him, but it didn’t hurt to assume. All that he could do was await a response, or someone to open the door to the dim cellar.
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