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[artofanabiosis-blog]

Innocent

“Stop, thief!” yelled a clerk. He chased after a hooded man, carrying a load of food and clothing. The clerk could not chase for long, and there were no guards around to help him. The hooded man turned into an alley, dropping a single piece of bread as he did. The clerk, exhausted and defeated, picked up the piece of bread and returned to his store. The hooded man arrived home, unlocking his door carefully as to not drop anything else. He turned the key, then turned the knob, and entered. A man was sitting at the dinner table, sipping from a cup of water. The hooded man threw the food onto the counter and was about to make his way to his room when the man stopped him. “Nihmedu?” asked the man at the dinner table, turning around. “What do you want, Horatio?” Nihmedu asked. Horatio’s eyes focused in on the clothing in Nihmedu’s hand. He also noticed the food on the counter, all fresh and not there before. “Where did you get those?” “Don’t worry about it.” Nihmedu said, trying to act cool. His voice was shaky - he knew he had done wrong. “Again? I’ve told you to cut it out. You know I can afford food.” Horatio said, rather frustratedly. Nihmedu sighed. “I’m tired of wearing rags. You should be thanking me.” “You’ve fallen even further.” Horatio muttered, shaking his head. Nihmedu brushed him off and entered his room. He shuffled through his closet, throwing all his old rags away. He replaced them with his new clothes like nothing was wrong. In truth, he was turmoiled. He knew he was in the wrong, but he could not stop. He lied down on his bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to force himself to sleep. It would be another long night for him. Something inside Nihmedu was telling him to return the clothes. To apologize and hope nothing would be wrong. He knew this would not and never be the case, however. He turned onto his side, where he saw the suit. The suit he’d hung up to keep from wrinkling. The suit he wore to his first date with a beautiful girl he loved. He tried to convince himself that he stole that suit for her, that his actions were justified. That he was no thief, he only did what he did out of necessity. Somewhere inside, however, he knew it was not true. He knew what he was - a monster. A monster that killed a man over a petty dispute, a monster that steals for a living. Nobody could ever love such as him, not even a girl as sweet as Etesia. Just a thief, just a thief, just a thief.. Those words drifted in his head all night. Nihmedu could close his eyes, but he could not sleep. He could cover himself with a blanket, but he never felt warm. He could turn and turn, but he was never comfortable. He could breathe deeply, but was always short. He could convince himself he was innocent, but he was not. He was not just a thief. He was a murderer too.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Somebody

Creeping around the old house, Eladrin walked on his toes to suppress noise. He walked around the dark, keeping an eye out for any sounds. As he tiptoed, he kept his head up, his eyes wide to see if he could pick out any movement. Somewhere in the walls, a mouse squeaked. Eladrin jumped, making the slightest noise.

Somebody lives here.

He could hear the blood rushing to his head. He could feel his heartbeat, he felt as if he could even hear his lungs moving. Every time Eladrin swallowed, he could hear his saliva rushing down his throat. Eladrin heard another sound, one not coming from his own body. He ran behind a cabinet, keeping his head down. He looked back up again. The wind stirred, whistling loudly.

Does anybody live here?

The wind was blowing through broken glass, tossing the tattered curtains up. Eladrin looked around. He was in the kitchen, one that looked like it had been decorated three centuries ago. The floors were made of rotting wood, the walls made of crumbling brick. The carpet smelled musty, dust flew up with every step. The wooden counters became home to mice, raccoons, and other savage animals. It was nearly night, the light was dark.

Nobody lives here.

Eladrin allowed his heels to touch the ground. The floors immediately creaked, whining with every step. He inched forward, gradually speeding up as he went. He entered a small hallway. There was only one room, door still intact. Eladrin placed his hand gently onto the rusted door knob, twisting it slowly. He slowly opened the door, flinching upon hearing the sound of the creak. He looked in with hesititation.

Somebody lived here.

The bed in the room was unmade, the sheets wrinkled. The pillows were not in their proper places, the mattresses were covered in bed bugs. There was an odour from the room radiating from an old laundry basket, from clothes once new and fresh, now older than he was. Eladrin slowly walked forward, placing a hand on the closet handle. He tried to open, but the handle popped off. Eladrin tried to place it back on, but the handle dropped to the floor, making a loud clanging noise as it did. Eladrin, frightened that someone or something would awake, ran out of the bedroom. He ran through the rotting kitchen, past the forgotten living room, and out the rasping door. He never turned back to face the old house on the hill, slowly dying over the course of many years. He never turned to face the very mountains in the background that gave the town its name. The town of Mountain’s Edge, the town of lost hope.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Brand New Suit

“What, do you want to look like that?” Horatio said to Nihmedu. He was standing at the door, ready to go out. Horatio pointed out his clothes, of which resembled more of rags.

“Trust me, if I could afford better I would.” Nihmedu responded. He brushed off his shirt and walked out the door, saying no more. The soles of his mud-covered shoes were worn. Every footstep felt as if he was walking barefoot. His tattered shirt was covered in lint and wrinkles. His black pants were covered by mud splashes.

He stopped and turned his head. He’d noticed a sign, in beautiful bright colours, reading “MEN’S BOUTIQUE”. Nihmedu entered, hoping there could possibly be a low-priced suit. He hadn’t much money left, only a few spare coins from the bag Horatio had left him.

“Hello!” said the store clerk, with a bright smile. “Welcome to my shop!”

“Oh, hello.” Nihmedu said. He tried to avoid conversation and browsed the shop. In front of him appeared a beautiful black blazer with matching pants and a dress shirt and tie to boot. It was a perfect set, one that looked as if it’d match him perfectly. He brought the set up to the clerk, who passed the price to him.

“400 coins? But I only have 4!” Nihmedu yelled in disbelief.

“My apologies, sir. I make these suits myself and so I price them accordingly.” the clerk responded.

“I’ll just borrow it.” Nihmedu responded.

“Sorry, we don’t do loans.” the clerk responded. He placed a hand on the suit as to make sure Nihmedu wouldn’t run with it.

“Well, I need it. Give it to me.” Nihmedu said, “Give me the suit. Give it to me!”

Nihmedu began to tug on the suit but the clerk held strong. He looked as if he was about to call for guards. Nihmedu grabbed a pair of scissors sitting on the counter.

The clerk’s body slumped. A pool of blood appeared. Blood was on Nihmedu’s hands, on his clothes, and on the suit he tried to barter for. He lifted his hands and stared at them in disgust.

“What have I become?” Nihmedu asked. He quickly wiped the blood on his clothes and grabbed another suit. He ran out of the building and never looked back, not for a moment.

He got home and changed into his new suit. He tried to hastily walk out the door, but Horatio stopped him.

“Where did you get that suit from?” Horatio asked. He knew something was up, Nihmedu could not hide it.

“I scraped up some money,” Nihmedu said, “under couches and stuff. You have a lot of money around, just under chairs and carpets.” Nihmedu lied.

“You’re lying.” Horato said.

“Just don’t ask, okay? Nothing happened.” Nihmedu said. He stormed his way out and slammed the door behind him. He looked down at shoes, his dirty, old, worn brown shoes. His shoes, with barely any sole left at the bottom. His shoes, which he’d worn since Horatio found him.

He’d forgotten to take new shoes.

He couldn’t go back now, no. he’d have to go wearing his old pair of shoes. He walked along to the restaurant, constantly looking down at his shoes. He hoped nobody would notice how terrible they looked. He hoped nobody would notice how terrible he looked, with guilt in his eyes, nervously shaking involuntarily as his actions played through his head endlessly on a constant loop. He could barely breath.

And there she was, across the table. Etesia, blind to the horrors of today. There she was, smiling bright, her green eyes shimmering with joy. There she was, laughing uncontrollably at every joke Nihmedu nervously uttered. She was his opposite; a joyful lady with a youthful glow compared to his nervous, wrinkling face. She never noticed a thing wrong.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Past

Nihmedu slammed open the door that led into his abode. “Horatio?” he called, walking around the house. He stomped around the house, trying to wake his potentially sleeping friend. There was no answer, as per usual. Horatio was out again, as per the usual. He’d been out for a week, now, however. At any point, he should be home. After hours and hours of waiting, he heard the doorknob twist. He ran downstairs, and there he was.

“Sit down,” Nihmedu said, upon seeing his friend, “you have some answering to do.”

“Why? What’s happening?” Horatio asked. He made his way for the nearest chair and took a seat.

“I talked to him.” Nihmedu responded, standing up in front of Horatio. “He told me many things.”

“Ah, Meisterday? What did he tell you?” Horatio asked, “He was quite the chap last time I talked with him.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me what you were?” Nihmedu asked. “This isn’t even who you are. You’re just another body that you’ve inhabited.”

Horatio stood up. “I don’t have to answer to you.” Horatio responded. He began to walk away, but Nihmedu grabbed his arm.

“Answer me. Why didn’t tell me who you were, Spirit of Death?” Nihmedu said. His grip was tight, and no matter how hard Horatio struggled he was unable to break free.

“Fine, I’ll answer you. Just let go of my arm.” Horatio requested. As Nihmedu loosened his grip, Horatio ripped his arm away.

“It’s true, I’m the spirit of death. I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to fear me like he did.” Horatio said. He hung his head down for a moment.

“Who is ‘he’?” Nihmedu pressed.

“Elden. Explorer, a friend from a long time ago. I told him who I was,” he paused, “and he feared me. Believed I would kill him, he did.” Horatio sighed. “I didn’t, of course. He died to the forest. I let it happen, for I have no quarrel with the moon spirit.”

“Then why did you save me?” Nihmedu asked.

“Because you, my friend, are different. I’ve had many friends and lovers over the centuries. I’ve watched countless of you mortals die. I long for the day I may join you.” Horatio hesitated for a moment. For once, he seemed genuinely sorrowful. “Unfortunately, that may not be for a long time.”

Nihmedu tried to come up with words to say, but he could not. He could only stare at Horatio, a once tall and proud figure now belittled to a crumbling mess. He looked as if he wanted to cry, but he would not allow himself to.

“I’ve had many lovers, men and women alike. At some point in your life, it no longer matters who you love anymore, because they’ll be gone anyways. I just hope they wait for me, however long it takes.” He breathed for a moment, before saying, “Whatever. I’ll be gone.”

Horatio began to walk away. Nihmedu remembered something, however.

“The old dragon, Meisterday. He would like to chat with you again.” Nihmedu said.

The left corner of Horatio’s mouth perked up. It was a rather coy smirk. “Of course. He’s quite the pleasant man.” Horatio said, and then he was gone.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

I’ve officially gone on a big unfollowing binge to get rid of all the inactive blogs I’ve been following, so I feel the need to say this.

If you’re an FR blog, blease reblog this so I can check you out and follow! I’m 100% guaranteed to follow if you post original artwork and lore, but as long as you’re like, 70% fr I’ll probably follow. (And to anyone looking for someone new to follow, I post art and lore myself too! I’d love to make some new mutuals)

Please don’t reblog if you’re an exclusionist, in fact keep very far away from me thanks.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Made a lore thread! Take a look :)

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Meisterday

After a terribly long journey, Nihmedu finally reached his destination. Not a single torch lit up the cavern, extending far into the mountain. A rumbling could be heard from inside, sounding like that of great, deep breaths. Nihmedu placed down his torch and put it out. After several deep breaths, he stepped into the cave.

Nihmedu could hear the sound of his heartbeat echoing against the walls of the cavern. Each of his breaths were short, as to make minimal noise. He placed his hand on the nearest wall of the cavern and walks forward to guide himself. The low, rumbling noises resembled that of breaths coming from a large being. His brain told him to turn back, but he was too curious to turn around now.

Each step felt like an eternity to him. Everytime he inhaled, the beast exhaled. The drips of water in the cavern spooked him, but he continued to walk anyways. He felt as if he was so close, he could feel the beast breathing.

“Stop where you are.” said the great beast with a growl. “No steps forward, no steps back. Speak nothing, else you end up dead.”

For what felt like an eternity, Nihmedu stood still. He could hear the beast stepping around him, examining him.

“Ah, a human, I see. No human has ventured into this cavern, not for a long time. I enjoy the company of you mortals. I am Meisterday, the old dragon. Have a seat.”

Nihmedu sighed in relief as he settled in. “I came here to ask - what happened to me? What is in that forest?”

“Ah, you stepped into the forest of the H’mam.” Meisterday asked. Nihmedu could hear his footsteps, but could not see his movements. “They’re a quiet bunch, yes, special as one would say. They serve the moon spirit, as I serve the dark spirit. Feeble humans, such as you, serve the sun spirit. However, you do not seem the same as others.”

“I’m.. different?” Nihmedu asked, “How so?”

“You remind me.. Of Elden. Mm, yes. I understand now. You belong to the spirit of death, yes. Just as Elden did. He watched his old friend die to the forest, and he did not want you to do the same.”

“Elden? Dark spirit? Please, explain.” Nihmedu asked, confusedly.

“Oh, you naive child, you.” Meisterday chuckled. “Have you forgotten Elden so soon? It’s yet to be a full millenium since he disappeared, or am I that old?”

“Just, tell me please.” Nihmedu said.

“Watch your tone. I’ve have a mind just to eat you right now.” Meisterday snapped.  “Elden was an old explorer, long before your forefathers took control. His name was erased from the history books, and the only remnant was the name of these mountains. He explored and mapped this entire land. Everything you can see from this mountain, he saw first.

“He was truly a great man. He knew every cavern of this mountains. Somewhere, he stored a great map of this mountain. Everything inside and out, he knew it. The only place he was yet to map was that forest. And though I, and the death spirit alike, begged him not to go, he went anyways. He never returned.”

“Wait - the death spirit? What?” Nihmedu asked.

“I’ve no knowledge of the manifest he takes now. He’s taken lifetimes of bodies to be with humans. He watches them all die, and it pains him so. He must have watched you step into the forest, and he must have taken you out of the stars.”

“So.. Horatio is the spirit of death..” Nihmedu said to himself. “So what was Elden’s bond with the spirit of death?”

“I know not, you must ask him yourself. And tell him to come around sometime, I’ve not spoken with him in a long time. Now, begone. The night is nigh, it is time for my watch.” And with the sound of a woosh and the flapping of large wings, he was gone.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Green Eyes

Nihmedu had fallen in love with the outdoors. He cared not for the people, for none caught his eye. He enjoyed sitting on chairs, or on the streets, watching the wildlife interact with each other. He watched the rats running through the streets, scavenging for crumbs. He watched feral dogs roam around, passing him by from a distance with a snarl. Despite their many imperfections, such as their scars, their fur patches, and their attitude, he still adored them.

He stood up and felt the bricks underneath his shoes. His torn, worn shoes scraped against the pathways. He looked to the skies, watching the clouds dance. The beautiful blue backdrop of the world was encapsulating. He’d rarely ever seen it in his lifetime, as every time he was to step outside, it would rain.

As a child, his father did not allow him to go outside. He was sheltered from all potential harm - illness, criminals, and love, as to his father, love was dangerous. It was cruel, can be taken from you at any moment, and can change you in numerous ways. Though he never grew ill, and though he was never harmed by another human, he developed something else.

Loneliness.

Never did he know the feeling of friendship. Any time his father was to let him out, he was to be heavily guarded. The schoolyards were to be emptied of all potential threats to his well-being, of which included animals and children. Anyone who was to not comply was to be removed forcefully, and further resistance often meant being thrown in the dungeon, or even potentially death. Nihmedu grew to despise going outside; outside meant someone was to be hurt. He turned into a hermit, huddled in his room, only ever leaving if he was to talk with his father. His only interaction with the maids was for food, nothing else. His birthday ceremony was an auspicious occasion. He did not attend. He never felt the touch of another loving person.

He never felt loved.

He looked around again, now at the people passing by. He was too afraid to interact with any of them, as he was well aware that he was not a sociable man. His eyes were showed sorrow, but he tried to hide it to seem more approachable. A false hope, maybe, that somebody would come to him, rather than vice versa.

Suddenly, a pair of big, beautiful green eyes caught his attention. Her hair was shiny, her skin clear. She stood out from the drab of the crowd. She looked youthful, joyful, as if she’d never felt burden. Nihmedu felt himself rise to his feet, and involuntarily walk towards her. He tried to fight it - too afraid of potentially embarrassing himself - but his legs would not stop. He was face to face with her now, wide-eyed and nervous. She looked surprised by his sudden confrontation, however she kept her warm glow.

“H-hello!” Nihmedu said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Well, hello!” said the lady, rather awkwardly.

“My name is Nihmedu,” he paused for a moment, slightly too long, “what is your name?”

“I am Etesia.” she responded, trying to keep her voice from sounding too uncomfortable.

Nihmedu took a deep breath, trying to steal himself. “That’s a beautiful name!” Nihmedu said, with a sudden calmness, “I know this seems rather sudden - I just could not help but say hello.”

Etesia laughed, and the conversation continued. She was a lady of no riches, however fortunate enough to have a home. She lived in a slums, and was around to buy some food from the shop. Her voice was like a song to Nihmedu. They conversed for a while, agreeing on a location to meet again.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” Nihmedu began, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling quite happy, actually!” Etesia said. “And you?”

“Well, I’m..” Nihmedu paused again. He appeared lost in thought, struggling to come up with words to say.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, he said, “I am happy!”

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Outside

Nihmedu sighed, looking around the house. Horatio had gone out, yet again. He would often disappear for hours - occasionally entire days - and return with nothing but a scowl and a feeling of contempt. This time, it had been three days. There was no food left over in his cupboards, as he rarely prepared meals in advance. Nihmedu was still yet to step outside, as he was afraid. He’d occasionally glance outside, but nothing more. The light still burned, and the people still scared him.

Nihmedu turned around and walked to the kitchen. He began to forage for anything to eat - even the smallest crumbs would suffice. He had grown disgusted with the taste of water, which was the only thing sustaining him at that moment. He opened the cupboard yet again, and peeked in. He immediately began to cough upon inhaling dust, leading him to slam the cupboard door in anger. His weak arms could barely swing it, however. He looked outside the curtain window again, looking at the many who walked freely on the streets. He grabbed the curtain and yanked it to the left, covering the window.

He walked up to his room, hoping he maybe had leftover food hidden away somewhere. He scavenged the room, which he’d cleaned up to look somewhat presentable. He looked on top of his wrinkled blanket, he looked in his messy closet. He even bothered to look in his creaky wardrobe, but found nothing. He walked to his desk and opened the drawer.

Clang, clang, clang.

A large coin purse was hidden inside. Nihmedu pulled it out, and spilled it all over the desk. He counted all the coins individually - there was plenty of silver and gold in it. There was also a note, of which contained a message.

“Dear Nihmedu,

Go outside.

Sincerely, Horatio.”

Horatio had left him enough money to buy himself dinner for a full week. Nihmedu tilted his head in confusion - how did he get so much money? Nihmedu brushed it aside for now, as he had a terrible task at hand. He was to make his way out and buy himself food.

Nihmedu focused on his breathing, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He put on his shoes slowly, his arms shaking. He put on his left shoe first, then his right, then began to tie them. He tried for a knot, but failed the first time. He tied again, and was successful. He stood up - his nervousness caused him to forget to tie his other shoe. He took two steps towards the door, his breathing beginning to feel short. He placed his hand on the doorknob and began to shiver tremendously. The slow turn of the knob was eating away at him, until finally, the door popped open. Nihmedu was bathed in light, surrounded by fresh air. The cold tickled his ankle as he put one foot out the door. He slowly but surely raised his other foot, and placed it on the ground. For the first time in weeks, Nihmedu was outside.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Mirror

Nihmedu stood, stone cold and alone, facing a mirror in the home of his savior. He breathed in, and breathed out, deeply, staring at his own reflection. His long, kept hair had become messy and tangled. His muscular build had become skinny. His once stern eyes had become weak.

He screamed. Loudly, he screamed. He screamed for salvation, for love, for warmth. He screamed in anger, in sadness, in confusion. In a rage, he punched the mirror in front of him. It shattered into a million different pieces, each falling to the floor. His bloodied hand quivered against the remains of the mirror. It stung horribly, and as each velvet drop fell to the floor, a clear droplet of water accompanied it. The once great man had crumbled into a sobbing mess.

The sounds of footsteps could be heard, running to the door. Horatio burst through the door, panting as if he’d ran after hearing the shattering screams.

“What have you done?!” Horatio yelled, his eyes widened in a mix of surprise and fury.

“Why did you bring me back? Why?” Nihmedu responded, his voice demanding.

“Answer the question, you pathetic heap of nothing!” Horatio screamed.

“No! I’m sick of answering your questions - sick of not knowing! Why am I alive? Why didn’t you just leave me be!”

“Wouldn’t you rather be alive?” Horatio responded.

“No, I’d rather be dead!”

Horatio stood silently for a moment, staring at the broken man. He scanned every shard, every drop of blood, and every tear.

“Are you sure?” Horatio asked.

Nihmedu paused for a moment. He breathed in, and breathed out. “Yes.” He concluded.

Horatio nodded, and placed a hand on his forehead. He began to squeeze. Nihmedu continued to breath. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he swatted at Horatio’s hand. “Stop!” Nihmedu demanded. “I…”

“You what?” Horatio asked impatiently.

“I can’t do it.” Nihmedu said bluntly.

Horatio sighed. “Pathetic. Not brave enough to die, not brave enough to live.” He left, slamming the door behind him.

Nihmedu picked up a shard from the ground and stared into it. He stared at his reflection, he stared at his own eyes. “What have I become?” Nihmedu asked himself. He sighed and lowered his head, cold, broken and alone.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

hello i would love one

just please ignore the fact that they’re all starving Anabiosis 279522

last but not least!

reblog this for a free vocal lair review! i’ll probably just go on vocaroo and talk about some dragons i like from your lair. i’ll do anywhere from 3-5 depending on how big your lair is, and once i’m done with the free one i’ll be offering them for monies!

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Watermelon

A sad, tired Nihmedu stumbled over, slumping on the outside of the door. He had only made a pocket’s worth of copper - not nearly enough to buy him even the smallest portion of food. He tilted his head back, looking at the door he leaned against. Reluctantly, he knocked. He knew where he was, he knew where he was.

Horatio opened his door, rather slowly. Nihmedu, still leaning against the door, pathetically fell as his support was taken from him.

“Well, hello there,” Horatio said, with a smug smile on his face, “you’ve come crawling back now, haven’t you?”

“Silence. I’m only here for a moment.” Nihmedu responded, sternly.

“My apologies, your highness. Please, make your way into my home, and I will be sure to bask in your greatness as you walk by! I will-”

“Silence, I said!” Nihmedu snapped, “Just give me some food, or so help me I will-”

“You’re in no position to threaten or demand,” Horatio responded. He kicked his boot onto the ground, flinging sand onto Nihmedu. While Nihmedu coughed, Horatio continued, “I’d have half a mind just to leave you out here, pathetic and alone.”

Nihmedu cleaned his eyes, stood up, and brushed himself off. He stepped inside the house. Horatio spared him a single watermelon, and then left.

Nihmedu looked at the melon in disgust. The awful green of the shell, the fleshy orange that made up it’s body, Nihmedu wanted to stab it, to throw it into the river, to throw it to the poor for them to eat in front of his feet. Instead, he cut himself a slice out of the melon and took a bite. His nose crinkled in disgust, but continued to eat. He wanted to voice his displeasure, to send his cooks back to the kitchen, or even out of the castle altogether. He wanted to yell at his servants, to throw a tantrum, but he continued to eat disgruntledly. He tried his best not to focus on the taste of the fruit, but it was all he had.

After all, only peasants ate watermelons.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

hey what’s up i keep seeing new people and people i am not following and people i’d have sworn i was following but mobile tumblr hates me and apparently Doesn’t want me to follow everyone

so if you’re a fr blog could you please rb this? so i can finally catch up on. Everything. everyone? whatever

thank you here’s a bai for your trouble

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Tea

A disoriented Nihmedu sat with his old friend, Horatio, in a hut.

“What happened?” Asked Nihmedu, rubbing his head, “where was I? Where am I?” “Do you have any memory of what happened before you entered the forest?” Horatio asked. He would be the one asking the questions today.

“In truth, I don’t remember much at all. Have I been asleep this entire time? I don’t feel rested.”

“You could say that, I suppose. I don’t quite know what it’s like to be up there with Me’physt.”

“I was.. Where?” Nihmedu asked, confusedly. He scratched his head for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes widened, his cheeks drained of colour and he felt short of breath.

“I was in the sky?!”

“Seems as so.” Horatio responded. He sipped from his cup, drinking earl grey tea with nothing in it. Nihmedu put his cup of tea down, containing two teaspoons of sugar and one teaspoon of milk.

“How did I get down? What happened?” Nihmedu asked, frantically. “More importantly, my kingdom - what has become of my kingdom?!” “Relax, I will tell you in due time. All I can tell you now, however, is that this kingdom no longer belongs to you. You had no children, and were presumed dead, and so therefore the kingdom has been passed on to your next in line - your nephew, Cataeglia.”

Nihmedu momentarily choked on his tea. His hand shook drastically and tea was spilling out the sides. “Catae- who?! What happened? How did I get down? Answer me!” Nihmedu demanded, slamming his left hand onto an end table.

“Relax, boy.” Horatio said. His voice was quite stern, rather than being calming. “I brought you down. Are you happy?”

Nihmedu dropped his tea cup, “H-how did you- why did you... who are you?” Nihmedu asked. His mind was scrambling and his body was now fully shaking.

“Do not worry for who I am, or what I am. In truth, I brought you back because I was rather lonely. You see, it’s nicer to drink tea with somebody rather than drinking it alone, as you usually do. For what you are - a heaping pile of loneliness, a king, you are many things - you are quite amusing to… observe. Especially now that you understand that your throne is now made of ash.”

Nihmedu stood up. He wanted to walk away, but he suddenly felt very lightheaded. He took two steps forward, and then toppled over.

“Not quite used to being able to walk again, are you my boy?” Horatio asked. “Sometimes, you are rather laughable. It really is quite entertaining, yes.” Horatio laughed mockingly. “Don’t try to make any moves on me, now. You should be thanking me for bringing you back here, anyways.”

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Burnt twigs snapped underneath Horatio’s feet as he walked through the scorched forest. One step, two steps, he followed the trail of destruction that was left from the fire. The ash was still fresh, despite several weeks passing since the wildfire. Horatio knew where he was, however. The cinders blew up in the wind, but Horatio walked through them. The ash just seemed to phase through him.

Finally, he’d reached the sacred, forbidden forest of the H’mam. The trees were still lush and had been left untouched by the flames. Horatio did not hesitate to step inside, despite knowing the hostile nature of the clan. They would take any outsiders that stepped in, and those outsiders would never be seen again. They would be sacrificed to the moon spirit

A shadowy figure appeared behind Horatio. It took three steps forward, and it lifted its arm. Horatio turned around slowly, and lifted his right arm.

Boom.

The shadowy figure flew into a tree. It’s body slumped and became still. Horatio approached it - it was a man. He was still breathing, but unconscious.

“You’re not the one I’ve come for.” Horatio grunted. He left the body to wait on its own and ventured deeper into the forest. His steps were slow, but he did not try to be discreet. He was not afraid, and he felt no need to be stealthy.

Suddenly, Horatio was confronted. A group of warrior tribesman had surrounded him, lead by the great chief Tsaoi. They drew their weapons and pointed them to Horatio. They began to close in on him, and the sound of sword being unsheathed could be heard. Tsaoi held his weapon high in the sky, with the great full moon just above it. He ran towards Horatio and he lept high, plunging his weapon deep into the chest of Horatio. He would have no intruders under his watch.

Horatio was still standing, barely phased. He took the hilt of the sword, pulling it out of his body. He pointed it at Chief Tsaoi, whom should no fear in his eyes. Horatio, however, shook his head.

“Not you. You’re not the one.” Horatio remarked. He dropped the sword, and extended his arm. All of the warriors, but Tsaoi, were blown far away. Tsaoi’s eyes widened in fear.

“It’s you..” Tsaoi remarked. “The spirit of Death..” He picked up his sword, sheathed it, and bowed in front of Horatio. Horatio stepped around him and continued to walk, no longer being bothered by tribesmen. He made his way to a clearing, and looked up.

“I’ve found you..” Horatio muttered. He held his hand up, and brought it down. Seven stars fell from the sky, and landed right in front of him.

“Hello, King Nihmedu.”

[artofanabiosis-blog]

The Cresnia Bridge

A grim Horatio stood on top of the Cresnia bridge. The colossal bridge overlooked the incredibly long and wide River Avons Cres, one that has provided freshwater to the kingdom for centuries. Horatio, however, was not here to collect water. The messenger of death only appears when someone is fated to die, after all.

Basalah was not ready to face his death. He had a wife and several children whom he needed to take care of. He still had his entire life ahead of him, but now it seemed as if he’d taken the wrong turn. The rope around his neck itched and he wanted to take it off, but his hands were bound. Guards stood with swords as he faced the river. He watched it flow to the great ocean, watched it being pushed along by the waves.

Once, the river was a source of hydration for all. Many would gather with buckets and pots to gather water. They would bring it home and use it to cook, to shower, to drink. The river was considered a sacred entity - a gift from the great sun spirit Arunika. The sun would set over the spring, illuminating it beautifully as She went to sleep. The king put into place a law - only he would be able to drink from the river and its beautiful spring. Everyone else would have to walk to the next nearest spring - over the mountains, around the forest and to a valley far, far away. It was more than a day’s journey just to get there, compared to the river which lay just outside the town.

“Elan Basalah,” Horatio began, “you were spotted of drinking water from the sacred river Cresnia. As per the wish of the king, you are to be hung above the very river.” Basalah began to argue. “I have children-”

“Silence.” Horatio commanded. He did not have to yell, as his voice was already commanding enough. His voice silenced Basalah, and it silenced the whispering guards as well.

Basalah suddenly began to feel weak. His stance felt like it was wavering and he could barely stand straight. His knees felt as if they were forty years older. The tremendous weight he felt on his shoulders prevented him from moving at all. Behind him, the swords of the guards began to poke his back, forcing him to step forward. Horatio stared grimly at the shivering Basalah. Basalah could feel his gaze - it ushered him forward, away from the source of the frightening glare. Basalah’s feet began moving on their own, closer and closer to the edge. He took one last step off, closed his eyes, and fell.

Snap.

The guards began to move in a panic, all ushering each other to move out along the river. Horatio stared ahead, his eyes were as dead as the many people he’d executed. He did not say a word, he did not move an inch.

The rope had broken. Basalah was free.

Upon entry into the river, Basalah immediately entered shock from the freezing cold water. He felt nauseated and disoriented. Basalah, however, knew of his dire condition. He got his body moving once more, coming to the surface and taking oxygen into his lungs. Around him, guards were drawing their bows and shooting at him. It seemed as if luck was on Basalah’s side - his body was not penetrated by a single arrow.

Basalah began to swim downstream. Had he made it far enough he would make it to woods, where he could hide. So long as he did not enter the territory of the H’mam, he would take no harm. He pumped his arms and his legs, moving as much as he could. He could not feel his muscles contract, as the adrenaline rush had taken hold. He dove under the water, careful not to dive too deep. His hope was that the guards would eventually lose him.

His time under the water was limited. He only had so much air, and had he been hit by an arrow, his time would be cut short. He had to make as much ground as he could, and so with all his might, he swam. An arrow punctured his thigh, and he blacked out.

Basalah woke up on the side of the river. He’d seemed to have lost the guards - he was completely alone now. There was a deafening silence around him. The air was still and the river was calm. Basalah knew where he was, and he knew how to get home.

Basalah began a short trek to the ranch he lived on with his family. He could now feel his muscles contracting. He felt asphyxiated, and the wound from the arrow stung horribly. The rope was still around his neck, but he did not have the strength to remove it. It was a horribly long walk. He was never seen by a wanderer, never met a merchant, never intercepted by a guard. The loneliness was terrible, but it was for the best. He had one last hill to scale, and then he saw it.

Home.

He’d forgotten his pain. The neck felt as if it was getting tighter and tighter, but he did not notice. “I made it!” he yelled with joy, stumbling to his front door. When he finally made it, he lifted his head high. Someone was standing in front of his door, but Basalah could not make out the figure. He came closer, believing it to be his wife, waiting with open arms.

All at once, Basalah lost all his strength. The adrenaline rush had ended, his muscles had contracted once more, and he could not breath at all. The figure took three steps, and looked down on Basalah. It was the last thing Basalah saw.

Horatio.

His hands turned purple, his eyes turned lifeless. He took one last breath. Basalah hung from the Cresnia bridge, above the Avons Cres river. His body swung from side to side in the wind. The river below him flowed out, into the oceans, as the sun finally set over it’s spring.

[artofanabiosis-blog]

Messenger

“You can’t go!” she pleaded, “You cannot!”

She turned to the door. “You won’t take my husband! Null, stay here, don’t let them take you!”

“My dearest Eloquence..” Null sighed. “Please, do not take your anger out on this poor man. It is my time, you musn’t hold me back.”

Eloquence cried out. She was weeping now, her face covered in tears. Her heart was aching and she could not explain why. She knew his time to serve would come - all those who turn twenty-one years of age are to serve in the army for at least five years. His birthday was only five days ago, and only five days ago they were celebrating together. Eloquence knew something was wrong with his eyes, but she could not understand what it was, for Null would not tell her. Null stepped forward to the door, taking control of the conversation. Eloquence suddenly began to feel dizzy, and she carefully made her way to the nearest chair.

“Thank you,” Null said to the messenger. “I will make haste for the castle on the wake of the morrow.”

The messenger lifted his cap and walked away, continuing on with his work. Null slowly closed the door behind the messenger. The door creaked agonizingly loudly - it had not been oiled in some time. Eloquence continued to wail hauntingly. Her cries echoed through the house.

“Eloquence, my dear..” Null said, gently. Eloquence’s head tilted upwards ever so slowly, her eyes meeting with Null’s in the middle. Her under-eyes were already puffy and her beady eyes had turned deeply bloodshot.

“Please, do not cry.” Null spoke softly, not to upset her by yelling. “You will not be hurt, neither will I. When I return, we can finally begin our family, we can finally raise our children. Soon, my dear, soon.”

“But what if you don’t come back?” Eloquence whimpered. Just the thought of his doom caused her to cry, yet again.

“Now, now, my dear. I will come home. We will see each other once more, I promise it.”

For a moment, there was silence. Both Null and Eloquence stared each other in the eye for just a moment, before Eloquence said, “You promise?” “I promise.” Null responded without hesitation. He looked into her beautiful, big pink eyes, and she stared back into his strong, loving green eyes. They embraced for a moment, and they shared a single kiss. She met him the next morning too, just the moment before they left. They kissed one last time, and he was off for the castle.

--

Several weeks passed. Eloquence’s indelible anxiety had held strong, never wavering even once.

Knock knock.

Eloquence’s large eyes lit up with glee. She dropped everything she was doing and ran for the door. She readied herself for a great embrace with her husband, whom had promised to return from the army in what felt like an age ago. She opened the door and quickly embraced the man standing there.

“Pardon me, were you expecting someone?” asked a familiar voice.

Eloquence looked up, and her eyes met with the man. It was a messenger. Not the same one who had delivered the awful message to Null, but the other messenger - the one who usually made his rounds around the area Eloquence lived in.

Eloquence quickly ended the embrace. She brushed off her dress and stared at the ground for a moment. In what felt like an unending silence - it was only a few seconds - she looked back up at him. “My apologies.” she said.

“I’ve a message for you,” said the messenger, ignoring the previous situation. “From your husband.”

Eloquence quickly snatched the message from his hands. “Thank you, thank you, oh thank you!” Eloquence stated, before shutting the door and not letting him get another word. She hurriedly made way for the nearest candle. She placed the message underneath it.

It was a simple loveletter for her, mixed with a hint of sadness. She would be unable to send messages back to him, as the castle would seize them. The belief was that, had they held a bond to each other, soldiers would not be as brave on the battlefield, as they would want to survive to see their families again rather than die on the battlefield in the name of the kingdom. Sending messages to loved ones was also strictly forbidden and would result in punishment - Null would have to sneak the letters out.

--

Months passed. Letters would remain the primary source of communication between the two despite how one sided it was. Eloquence had saved all the letters she’d been given in a locked drawer.

Suddenly, letters stopped coming in.

--

Noise could be heard from outside. Several months had passed since the last telegraph, and Eloquence had become incredibly anxious. Every time she heard the slightest sound from outside, she would run to the window to see what was outside. Usually, it was nothing.

This time, it was something.

A small group of people had gathered outside of her home, all dressed in black. Eloquence rushed outside to greet the sudden visitors. Something stopped her dead in her tracks.

A grim-looking Null stood still, surrounded by the group. He stared at the ground, not moving. Eloquence started to run to him, but he continued to look to the ground, staring at the way the grass danced with the wind. He looked sorrowful and contemplative, but he would not say what was wrong. Eloquence, however, did not notice his wistful eyes. She continued to run to him, holding out her arms. She was right in front of him when he finally looked up. Their eyes met, and then he, quite literally, fell limply into her arms. Eloquence was knocked over by his weight. She crawled her way out from under him, and that was when she noticed it.

It.

A knife had been placed deeply into his back. The group surrounding him came closer and closer, but Eloquence did not notice. She stared at the knife numbly, looking at every detail of it.

“It’s in his back,” she whispered.

“Why is it in his back?” she asked quietly.

She turned her head up, and screamed, “Why is it in his back?!”

A figure stepped forward. He lifted his head, and sighed. It was the messenger. The one who had delivered the first, awful message.

“I’ve one last message to deliver to you,” the messenger said.

“Your husband had been found sending out letters to loved ones. This is strictly against our law.”

Eloquence stared at him dead in the eye. “So, you killed him.”

“His punishment was to be killed. It was the king’s wish.” the messenger said.

Eloquence struggled to find the words to say, and so, she instead let out all of her emotions at once in a fit of rage.

“That tyrant! That fucker!” she screamed. The group began to disperse. The messenger turned around.

“And you…” Eloquence pointed at the messenger.

“What is your name?” she asked. She was seething with rage, but the scariest part was how calm her voice sounded.

“My name? I am the messenger of death, Horatio.”