Post by The Crimson Reaper on Feb 6, 2014 0:01:42 GMT -5
The tall grass gently sways in the calm afternoon winds that blow through the fields just south of Noxus. It is here Vladimir stands amongst the overgrowth and tangle, the apathetic sun glaring down like it a careless god, listlessly watching the sins and sorrows of Valoran's occupants without judgement or interest. To his chagrin, the shine warms him, the weather beckoning the coming of Spring time.
'The seasonal rebirth...' Vladimir thinks to himself, entranced in thought. He bends down, kneeling as a manicured hand brushes over the gritty patch of earth. He picks up a twig, playing with it in his fingers absentmindedly before snapping it in two.
A boy, around sixteen or so, writhes before him on that patch of land. Blood wells from his mouth, drowning out his fearful cries into sick gurgling sounds, spitting and sputtering to say anything. Bruises paint his body different colors, crusted with more blood and anguish. Off to the right is a second body, lying still and brutally contorted. The hemomancer stoops over the immediate poor lad whose eyes widen in terror, silently begging why before rolling back, turning white. The body ultimately ceases disturbing the grass soon after.
Another squall of wind rushes past. Vladimir watches as the phantom from his past is swept away with it, leaving only the broken twig in front of him once again, and he alone in the idyllic countryside landscape.
'Pitiful.'
He stands, surveying the treeline in the distance that offered his escape from his home-land, from his contemptible life all those years ago. Feelings of disgust envelope him as he glowers back towards Noxus, his lips remaining tightly pursed as if locked there unwillingly.
Suddenly, a quiet pulse catches Vladimir's attention. A calm, almost silent life-force distinguishes itself from the background, but it stays steady and lethargic, even though it surely saw him standing there in the grass, the lengthy black coat he wears surely noticeable.
A crackling of leaves confirms its presence.
"Who goes there?" He demands, irritated about the intrusion.
'The seasonal rebirth...' Vladimir thinks to himself, entranced in thought. He bends down, kneeling as a manicured hand brushes over the gritty patch of earth. He picks up a twig, playing with it in his fingers absentmindedly before snapping it in two.
A boy, around sixteen or so, writhes before him on that patch of land. Blood wells from his mouth, drowning out his fearful cries into sick gurgling sounds, spitting and sputtering to say anything. Bruises paint his body different colors, crusted with more blood and anguish. Off to the right is a second body, lying still and brutally contorted. The hemomancer stoops over the immediate poor lad whose eyes widen in terror, silently begging why before rolling back, turning white. The body ultimately ceases disturbing the grass soon after.
Another squall of wind rushes past. Vladimir watches as the phantom from his past is swept away with it, leaving only the broken twig in front of him once again, and he alone in the idyllic countryside landscape.
'Pitiful.'
He stands, surveying the treeline in the distance that offered his escape from his home-land, from his contemptible life all those years ago. Feelings of disgust envelope him as he glowers back towards Noxus, his lips remaining tightly pursed as if locked there unwillingly.
Suddenly, a quiet pulse catches Vladimir's attention. A calm, almost silent life-force distinguishes itself from the background, but it stays steady and lethargic, even though it surely saw him standing there in the grass, the lengthy black coat he wears surely noticeable.
A crackling of leaves confirms its presence.
"Who goes there?" He demands, irritated about the intrusion.
