Ashan 100, 714
The world felt so terribly broken. It was warm outside, and yet all he felt was a condemning cold, a chilling sensation that refused to cease. He wandered seemingly without aim through the world, his eyes glazed over with guilt, unwilling to see the world beyond his memory. He could still see the man’s face, the bruises that covered him, and the unnatural way that his neck had bent when he picked him up. The weight of death that had strained his shoulders as he attempted to awaken his father. Now, the hybrid could feel his arms as they hung limply at his side. Everything had grown into shaded muted colors, if they even registered at all. He walked, but he didn’t feel his feet even touch the ground. The only thing he did was remember, the flickering flashes of memories good and bad whirled throughout his mind, increasing in intensity as the neared his inevitable destination.
It came into view behind a copse of trees, beautiful and scenic as ever. The building that had become his home for so many Arcs now seemed so much less welcoming. Surely, nothing had changed to the exterior of the structure, but its’ very presence haunted the Avriel. He couldn’t stand it, it was all too much. Bitter tears fell from his eyes, melding into his feathers, invisible to the outside world. Occasionally one would breach the barrier and fall to the ground, but it was a rare occurrence, his suffering kept well to himself. Gnarled nails dug into palmy flesh, creating an imitation of the suffering he felt in his soul, in his very being.
It could not relieve it, there was no relief to be found in anything at all. The fingers began to quit their pressing, and he glared down at his palms to assess the damage that his emotional fit had sustained. Gentle streaks of blood dripped into loose feathers, sticking to them as though it were glue. What had been done had been done, and what needed to be done needed to be done. He couldn’t remain within that house any longer, to do so would incriminate him for his crime, and only lead to his execution. His murdered father would not have wanted vengeance of that kind, especially upon the boy he had raised, even upon his murderer.
The night of the slaying, he had run away from home, had fled from his deeds with as many things as he could carry. He had located a cave someway outside of the city limits, and had spent the remainder of the day curled into a ball, weeping bitterly to himself and staring upon the night sky with grief. He remembered watching it with his father, seeing the winds blow through the heavens and wondering with awe whether he might one day slide through the air with the same grace as a bird. Now he recognized that his place was upon the ground, to fly through the sky would only pollute it with his hate, with his sadness.
The creature stood there for a long while, staring upon his home. He had already gathered everything he wanted from it bar one item. It was a precious book that had been read to him for many Arcs, something that Nicholas had shared with him throughout their time, something dear to his heart. He wanted nothing more from the wealth of the home except for that one thing, and he was determined to get it.
The door was still open from where he had fled a trial previous, and it took only a few bits to locate the book within the home. Whilst entering, he passed by the corpse of his father, set gently into his bed, giving him the appearance of resting. He would dream for eternities upon eternities, and Noth wanted his rest to be gentle, graceful. It was something that Nicholas had earned throughout his life, earned through his deeds, and though it made little sense, he felt somewhat more comforted by it.
With the book in hand, he exited the home, and began his long trek, going away from the life he knew, fleeing to the life he would know.
