Author:
Apathan [Fran]
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Date Posted: 14:01:59 02/07/03 Fri
[-grin- Faithy, did you actually think people were going to just ignore the post that clearly contains the challenge for the kingship of the Evils? Oh dear oh dear.]
The oldest friend and quietest supporter of the black King watches with silent, dark eyes, his infinite gaze taking in the flames of youth and the embers of age, face to face up on the ridge above the Valley. But a blaze can so quickly be quenched or burn out of control, whereas embers may be stirred back into strong and steady life. The aging bay knows upon which side he stands, and he knows in whom he believes. Down within his strangest soul a twisted light shines brightly... a beacon of faith and hope in a forsaken world where belief has been forgotten in the sacrilegious name of something unattainable: pure evil. Perhaps the Arabian is farther from that evanscent goal than many- he has never killed, but many times he has healed. And yet... it goes rather deeper. In Apathan's mind, true darkness is darkness of the soul and of the thought, not wild bravado and arbitrary cruelty. Darkness is dissent, is discontent, is individuality. Most of all, individuality; something that can in no way be attained whilst persuing the same raging fires as every youth.
But of course, what the older stallion sees as wisdom he learned the hard and long way. When he first came to these utterly unique mountains, he too was alight with the madness of youth. That has now given away to the steady glow of age, an age which he is not ashamed to have acquired or to admit to.
Of course, the intense mahogany creature soon becomes aware that his thoughts have begun to stray from the matter at hand. Walking slowly up the hillside, he stands by a stunted, bare claw of a tree, gazing up at his oldest friend with complete faith, and a loyalty that runs deeper than love, friendship or time; a loyalty that is far from blind, that sees both faults and advantages. And so the Healer stands in silence, his heartbeat measuring the seconds and his mind aware that whatever happens here will never be forgotten.
Good luck, Malussinn, he wishes without a sound, gathering inner strength for the end of the battle, when broken bones and injured muscles shall need repair.
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