Post by Deleted on Dec 20, 2014 0:42:59 GMT -5
The wisps of foul smoke danced across his aged nostrils, the crackling flames provided some amusing scenery, and the cries of the young and old were like soothing notes upon his pointed ears. Each crunching footfall allowed the vile man to revel in his handiwork, slowly taking in the chaos and destruction. Scorched wood and singed hairs replayed the memory of death and violence within his mind. A scream here, a shout there, it all started so fast, and ended so swiftly.
A foolish soldier here and there tried to stop the rampaging coated figure, only to wind up sprawled across the snow, writhing in pain and agony, or motionless in death. The ghastly visitor struck without warning, without mercy, and without reason. Pleas were left unacknowledged, and screams were reveled. The whole ordeal almost satisfied the dark master, with a slight smile forming at the edge of his ancient mouth. But the words that reached his ears only caused that wicked grin to widen even more, "Please..." A fallen soldier, upon the brink of death, his eyes half opened, and his arm outstretched shakily. Was he mad? Did he really believe his attacker to take pity upon him?
The footfalls continued to crunch as the coated figure made its way to the pitiful soldier. Could it be, could compassion be just around the corner? Could honor prevail over chaos? With half-opened, hopeful eyes, the man struggled to crane his neck as the coated figure loomed over him. He uttered once more, "P-ple------" Only for a swift and uncaring foot to descend upon the outstretched hand, desperate to cling unto aid. As the boot met the man's flesh, the sound of the cracking ice and snow was slow, but it continued relentlessly. The pain was horrifying, though nothing compared to the original wounds from the attack. But the crushing act did more than cause pain, it erased all hope of honor and respect. This was not war, it was insanity.
It had been....ages since Master Xehanort donned the Black Coat....though the former sleeping whelp has caught his attention once more. It was such a wondrous thing, the be able to pull upon so many strings of emotion and memory. How ironic it was, to be draped in the very coat he used to abandon the boy upon his former homeworld.
The crooked smile widened once more, the child could not ignore this.
The crunching footfalls resumed as the cruel man continued to observe his handiwork with each backtracking step...
A foolish soldier here and there tried to stop the rampaging coated figure, only to wind up sprawled across the snow, writhing in pain and agony, or motionless in death. The ghastly visitor struck without warning, without mercy, and without reason. Pleas were left unacknowledged, and screams were reveled. The whole ordeal almost satisfied the dark master, with a slight smile forming at the edge of his ancient mouth. But the words that reached his ears only caused that wicked grin to widen even more, "Please..." A fallen soldier, upon the brink of death, his eyes half opened, and his arm outstretched shakily. Was he mad? Did he really believe his attacker to take pity upon him?
The footfalls continued to crunch as the coated figure made its way to the pitiful soldier. Could it be, could compassion be just around the corner? Could honor prevail over chaos? With half-opened, hopeful eyes, the man struggled to crane his neck as the coated figure loomed over him. He uttered once more, "P-ple------" Only for a swift and uncaring foot to descend upon the outstretched hand, desperate to cling unto aid. As the boot met the man's flesh, the sound of the cracking ice and snow was slow, but it continued relentlessly. The pain was horrifying, though nothing compared to the original wounds from the attack. But the crushing act did more than cause pain, it erased all hope of honor and respect. This was not war, it was insanity.
It had been....ages since Master Xehanort donned the Black Coat....though the former sleeping whelp has caught his attention once more. It was such a wondrous thing, the be able to pull upon so many strings of emotion and memory. How ironic it was, to be draped in the very coat he used to abandon the boy upon his former homeworld.
The crooked smile widened once more, the child could not ignore this.
The crunching footfalls resumed as the cruel man continued to observe his handiwork with each backtracking step...