“I’ll be just fine, I already told you,” the Shade said sluggishly, wanting to sleep more, but refusing to return to that infernal memory of a nightmare. Whatever Vendetta’s purpose was today, her emotions eluded her mystery –glances, smug looks, curious eyes; none of it made any sense. Unlike before the silence which stretched now was rather comforting, and Charon figured it was all right to at the very least close his eyes, lids so heavy they appeared made of solid wood though even when his body was ready, silently awaiting oblivion, his mind was still whirring, impossible to stop once it had been started; and it had –the minute he awoke gasping in realization of Imaroch’s attack.
“It’s still light out?” the semi-awake question was thrown into the air at her admonishment he rest. But the sounds of people filing in for a common meal most likely betrayed the sun would set soon; and their departure should be hastened as Imaroch crawled closer and closer, leaving behind deeply carved trenches; a wide berth for claws stretching across the world. A city, that was where the dark Lord would be hiding, in plain sight of those embracing the agony of sin and life. Forcing his mind onto a higher level of awareness, his trembling hand reached out for the water perched on the bedside table, hoping the cool liquid would aid his blood flow, wake his muscles up, rejuvenating him perhaps too much to ask.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, pouring himself a mug of water while Vendetta talked of clothes suddenly made the entire battle of darkness against light, Shades versus Roses, appear rather mundane; where was the threat in such homely setting? The nightmares at the very least found themselves returned to those shelves lining up within his mind and Charon drank the fresh water greedily –rain, yesterday’s rain, if it was his guess.
Off course he had been worried, “What does it matter?” Charon queried, as if admitting his mind had entertained a variety of possible glum outcomes was to play his hand to the darkness –which was ridiculous in the way that whatever was dark was already known to his heart’s replacement. Nevertheless, the Shade had kept his end of the bargain and abstained from interfering, luckily for them Titov made mistakes. Fallible, so unlike the darkness, which would try and play out both opponents in a battle which was less than honourable –and that had to be the understatement of the year right there. Peering into the mug, then at the symbol on his chest, Charon started thinking why it was Imaroch held such vast control over the darkness as compared to his own feeble actions last night. Or had they been feeble? Somehow he had managed to get the old goat to give in to his softly whispered demands of getting lost.
And he had.
But for now it was more like the darkness controlled their puppet, instead of the other way around, and such could be lethal since there really was no telling what purpose the darkness had envisioned.
“Besides, I already knew from the start you wanted him dead by your own hands –such was your Vendetta,” Charon patiently explained, a calm washing over him which only managed to annoy the thoughts in him pressing for anxiety, for energy, instead of this ludicrous lethargy. Apparently the darkness didn’t want them battling right now though and as such, kept his temper at a marginal level. Inhaling deeply, Charon stood, towing along a few blankets as he slowly moved over to the door, leaning against the wall as he peered down the hallway. “What if you had died?” eventually came the gentle whisper. The words had already been chewed out before and with an aggravated sigh Charon rubbed his face.
“Pretend I didn’t ask that,” he said with a little more conviction and snatched the elbow of one of the younger servants roaming about, asking her in quiet whispers to fetch his clothes for him on her way back to the main hall. Judging by her stature she would, but most likely with the addition of food, or spirits.
Vendetta rubbed her head as she wandered into the room and looked to Charon, keeping her silence as she set her eyes over him, head tilted and she smiled a little towards him as she sat down close to the fire, mulling things over in her mind. Although to her, what she thought of made no sense, even in her mind so goodness only knew what it would sound like out loud to someone. She frowned ever so slightly, bringing a fingertip to her lip and tapping it softly before watching Charon, as if contemplating whether he was all right to actually travel and she then averted her gaze to the flames close by.
Part of her, wanted to get rid of Charon, to place him in hiding somewhere safe or keep him under Marius' charge so she would not have to see him go through this battle with Immaroch, the hurt and pain he would endure and she winced at the thought of the worst possible outcome and she chewed on her lip slightly, letting the silence between the two stretch out for some moments, liking be allowed to think although a window ledge would have been more fitting rather than the small chair and she swivelled her eyes to the Shade, eyes dancing over his frame before she finally, broke the silence with a quiet, gentle voice.
"Are you all right to travel?" Bold features masked her worry and concern and she wondered if he had felt like this before she fought Titov, probably not but then they were quite different at times and she wondered how long he had known her and Titov had a sort of agreement to fight together. She pulled herself back into the present time and she swept some hair aside, lazily forcing her brave, masking features to stay calm and in place and she freed her lip from her teeth, eyes never leaving Charon as she sighed a bit, "You still need rest, you know that."She grinned slightly.
The sounds of the crowds in the main cavern echoed through the walls and Vendetta thought back, she had been so young when she had first came here. It was still magnificent but it had seemed bigger when she was smaller, funnily enough and Marius had not changed. Not in looks, wisdom or that haunting calmness he forever homed around him and it made Vendetta wonder, just how many people actually changed in the world. Some never did and some always thought they did but really never and then some did, but only for those they cared for. Cryptic thoughts daunted the Rose and she shook her head free of them before looking to Charon, "I'll fetch you some fresh clothes in a second, either that or someone will have the common sense to bring them along...Hopefully."She shrugged and looked to the fire, head tilted.
Her fiery green eyes then set directly on the piercing grey of the Shade and she asked, quite composedly, "Did you worry...?"She wanted to know, "When you knew I was going to battle with Titov?"She asked, quite unflinchingly. If he didn't want to answer, that was fine, it would have to be. She wouldn't badger him over his emotions. Or perhaps the lack of them in certain cases, not that she was one to judge over past matters, was she not as bad as Charon half the time? And where was the balance between good and right? Was it not all opinion? Hush, stop it. She told herself firmly from within her mind, she was doing nothing but worrying herself over such questions.
For once in each other’s company Charon wasn’t about to argue against the Rose that he didn’t need sleep, rest, or anything of the sorts any more than she did. Leaden limbs stuck to the tepid blankets covering every inch of exposed skin, and all but his ears and eyes were two steps removed from complete oblivion as to the world outside of his periphery. Through half closed eyelids, glassy grey eyes followed the scurrying Rose across the spacey cavern; listening at the renewed crackling of a fire, dry wood greedily burning as the oak met embers with a lack of a dying wish.
By the time the other blanket was added, the Shade had already drifted off almost completely, hardly aware of the warm lips pressed against his forehead with the tenderness bestowed only upon the caring greatness of mothers, or lovers. With a weak sigh Charon turned towards her presence unconsciously, dragging the heavy blankets around his shoulders before settling with a definite sigh. This time no cold hall loomed within his dreams, no cold claws stretching out to expedite his soul and embed his life’s energy into the darkness; where it was lost for all eternity, consumed by the demon awaiting the decay of his soul and will. Only the dreams of old and nightmares of the past remained, and while his body worked sluggishly to up his temperature, his mind conjured up the memories of his torture.
“Again,” the emotionless voice ordered.
The young boy finally got his revenge, sweat drops falling from his body like dew from warm leafs. Unfortunately said vengeance was to be exacted upon fellow subjects; chains hanging slack from cut wrists, blood dripping down the length of the other’s body, as hands were raised in offering to the skies.
“Again,” the word reverberated through the catacombs a little less patient this time, a shove, a tug, feeble legs threatening to give out as the shackles there had dug deep welts as well.
Against the wall his victim writhed in anticipation, panic and fear clinging thickly to the air. The metal rod was heavy in his hands, and the tip had been calmly accumulating the fire’s heat. A reprieve, it was a momentary peace to wait for the poker to gather enough heat to glow furiously, but now it was sufficiently supplied to do the aggrieving damage.
Without hesitation something clicked in the young tortured mind, and took up the pike to stand before his assignment; were it not for the grey eyes staring back despondently. Defiant, yes, not submissive as all the others, not dejectedly begging for release, no; this one was waiting for it to happen and would grin along the way.
Trembling hands pushed forward, spurned on by the pushing hands and his own dire punishment for failure would he prove unable to deliver.
Metal connected with skin, contorting the muscle underneath, vaporizing inner fluids with a furious hissing sound. The scream toppled all, and the boy had not expected it; untamed fury, ravaging energy and buckling shadows were the rewards of the maltreatment. No, no, this one was far from suppressed.
Then again, Charon would remain defiant for days to come, again and again, that poisonous voice would call out. And the sound was more of a mental torture than any of the knives, rods and other objects defiling his sanctum could ever be.
By the time his body was warm, his mind begged for the cold to return, sweat drops pearling on the Shade’s forehead, arms flung carelessly to lay outstretched, blankets tossed aside in the impossible struggle to be unleashed, unchained, though still shivers claimed his body as well. The nightmare held as tight a grip as Imaroch had on his thoughts, distorting them into something which should no longer faze the Shade; for all the carnage he had caused, for all the tainted sins committed, such punishment enacted on him as a child should be nothing in comparison. Just as the pain was about to hit, Charon startled back into the waking world, sounds drowning out into that of the quietly crackling fire, gentle murmurs of voices in the distance –nothing else. No screams, no taunting, no raging machinery or grinding stone. Nothing else.
Just an empty room, comfortably warm; where he was still drenched in cold sweat, shivering and feeling miserable. Rubbing his face, Charon sat back against the head board and took a moment to gather himself before drawing some of the discarded blankets closer, huddling underneath once more trying to shake the after images of the nightmare. The sun was sinking, it wouldn’t take long before they would depart this place once more –to finally achieve that ultimate vengeance.
Ah, to greet the sun and feel the warm rays on her parched skin would be blissful and she sighed, looking to Charon and watching him with soft eyes, emerald then looking to the door as she remarked, "Don't tell me your fine either."She said gently and smiled, a little playfully before looking to his hand over hers, how gentle and tender he could be when he wished to be, and she couldn't help but ponder on how many others he had shown this, dare she say, affection to. She tugged slightly, amused, at his hair and then commented, "I'll go. But you rest, Charon." her voice held no command or demand, just a quiet urge. No orders, not for him.
She placed her hand atop his for a few seconds before standing when he let go of her and she looked down at him, as if thoughtful and she looked as if she were going to speak, but some things, words couldn't exactly cover correctly and she decided against even attempting anything at the moment, shifting over to the fire, a tugging some fresh firewood into the dwindling flames and blowing a breath over the newly forged embers and smiled slightly as, within a few minutes, the fire was up and healthy once more. She then searched the room and pulled out another blanket, placing it over Charon, not understanding why he seemed so cold to the touch and she sighed a little, bending down and kissing his forehead, comfortingly.
With the quiet offer of a small smile, Vendetta turned and exited the room, she needed to sort herself and she immediately headed for the cave's entrance, rubbing her eyes as the fresh light of day pierced through her and she shuddered as she felt the sunlight filter through her, giving her back some of what she had lost. She let out a shaky breath and then regained it, opening her eyes and then , after some minutes, feeling replenished, she frowned. She'd wandered out and her feet were cold and damp from the rain that had not quite dried up and evaporated into the atmosphere and she raised an eyebrow before going back into the sanctuary of Marius' caverns.
She rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, looking around and scowling as she simply asked whoever she could where her clothes were, most recoiled away from her and pledged they knew nothing. One of the kinder women pointed and remarked, "Second shelf."She nodded and smiled before dispersing into the crowd of people. vendetta shook her head and went to rifle through what items she had, slipping on a loose, slightly too big for her blue number and rubbing her eyes blearily.
She gazed around, life continuing as normal, what did they have to worry about? She sighed and made her way back to the allocated room for herself, and by her wish, Charon.
His name parted from soft lips, the sensation of warm hands gently caressing his cold cheek, almost scorching his skin, were the first impressions which managed to infiltrate the daze gripping his mind as Imaroch’s claws had his throat. Charon’s reply was sluggish at best; slowly and clumsily drawing the offered blankets closer around his shoulders in a sore attempt at regaining some of the lost heat. It seemed as if his body had decided now was not the time to waste precious energy on warmth, or being awake, and instead seemed to feel drawn to accompany his mind towards that darkness which still beckoned. The safety offered by Vendetta left as Marius entered, though their voices soothed him, guided his way back into the waking world from that dark hall holding Imaroch’s remaining life’s essence and the throne he was sure to be forced to take one day –the price? His soul.
By the time Vendetta sat down on the edge of the bed, she succeeded in startling him awake once more only this time it had been sleep; and not a trip towards the darkness which connected all life –or rather; death, or was it rebirth?
“Cold,” Charon whispered, and another shiver shook his frame, even though he had enough blankets now to pass through a snow storm. It was ridiculous; Vendetta was wearing no more then a flimsy dress; so why had the cold gotten to him the way it did? Sleepily the Shade turned to lie on his back, unable to allow for such weakness to be displayed in front of his potential enemy –or his charge; either way his stubborn pride interfered with his huddling underneath the sheets pathetically. Frustrated as another shiver made his skin crawl, Charon rubbed at his eyes. The Shade trying in vain to rid the heavy sensation of sleep from his addled mind, “Marius is right, you should rest.”
Hazy eyes scanned the woman before him and decided that not much time could’ve passed if the immortal mentioned more rest, and the Rose still appeared pale, weakened by the taxing fight against Titov. “We’re not ready to leave yet –and you should decide what you will leave behind for the Roses if we do travel to face Imaroch in terms of orders.”
Had they slept through the night? It would’ve made sense to find Imaroch there if he had slept during the night; open jaws, gates spread out for him to enter the other’s domain, for where the obscure Lord slept during the fury of sun’s day, the creature stalked any who dared trifle in the night. Concluding they must have, for his weariness was usually accompanied by day, Charon closed his eyes once more, tempted to give in to sleep once more despite the shivers. Fortunately their frequency was dwindling rapidly, instead replaced by a comfortable –if not slightly oppressive- heat forced from his body by demanding muscles.
“I’m fine now,” Charon mumbled absentmindedly at the worried Rose, and took her hand; squeezing her soft skin almost obsessively, considering how tempting it would be to demand some of her energy right now –only doing so would disable her for longer, as well as admit to his failing.
“You should greet the sun; keep up the strength of your light for we will need it,” he ushered with a dwindling whisper, thumb stroking the new symbols which had merged with the original ones. A nice addition of power to her vast array of abilities; certainly there were no others in the glorious position they were situated right then and there. Charon’s excitement was tamed by weariness, but his heart sped up at the prospect of dominating both Roses and Shades alike under one rule, and such, purge the world from anything they deemed unworthy of life. No more grovelling humans, or tainted souls, no more putrid streets filled with corpses and pig’s shit –no more shadows in the hearts of men, but a pure world; with him the sole darkness, judge and jury of those facing impeding death.
“I’m fine, I’m just fine,” Charon said, a little stronger this time and let Vendetta’s hand go with a slight grin.
Vendetta stirred again, hands grappling the blankets and she mumbled something inaudible and unimportant as she came around, looking around the much dimmer room and frowning as the fire was evidently dying out slowly. She shook her head and then swept her hair out her face, eyes glittering in the dim light. She eyed the area, each corner of the room investigated and she felt satisfied that it was safe for now. She shrugged the blankets off herself and then, and only then, became aware of Charon's shivering.
She frowned slightly, tilting her head and attempting to assess the situation and she pulled some blankets over him, hoping it would warm him up as she leant over him, eyeing him over,"Charon?"She murmured, very gently placing a hand to his left cheek, concern bright in her gaze and she looked over her shoulder as she heard footsteps, quickly withdrawing her hand and looking to her left, to the opposite side of the wall, her items untidily stacked there and she frowned, where the medics really stupid? She sighed and stood up, knees almost buckling under her and she caught herself before she could fall.
Marius watched her from the doorway, "Who did you think I was, hmm? This area's secure, you've no need to worry, my dear." He said calmly and helped her stand straight, "You should rest as your friend does."He gestured to Charon and Vendetta simply shook her head, "I'm fine. We'll be leaving soon if we're both up to it."She stated, giving little room for argument as Marius just nodded, "I'll make sure you get some supplies then."He smiled and looked at her, "What do you plan on doing..Now that your leader of the Ro-"He was cut off as vendetta placed a hand over his mouth, "You think I have plans? I have none. My first duty is to fulfil my agreement with Charon."She uttered and Marius scowled, pushing her hand away, "Very well, very well. No need to get tempered, my dear."He smiled slightly and Vendetta glared, "I am not your dear."She said, "Out...I need to think and make ready to leave. Go on then!"She ushered him out and Marius laughed slightly, ruffling her hair and then disappearing down the halls.
Vendetta frowned and ran a hand through her hair, grabbing a piece of fruit and taking a small bite, although she had very little appetite for anything but she figured she needed to eat and she would rather do it of her own accord rather than be told to do so. She washed her face and then looked over her shoulder at Charon, going back over and sitting by his side, watching him, any other would have questioned him over his nightmares and dreams but she knew not to. She wouldn't get any suitable answers and she figured it was best to keep quiet for a while, let Charon speak.
"Are you all right?"She asked eventually, voice piercing the quiet as she ran her fingertips over his cheek, perhaps the way a mother would when comforting a child.
At first all there was remained dark; his sleep undisturbed even by the Rose beside him boring her eyes through his soul with a penetrating gaze –or at the very least an attempt to do so, but eventually even she stilled, and the blanket covering his unnaturally still form warmed his exhausted body. Rest had evaded the Shade, whose markings were darker than any shadow could ever be, not because he had been worried about Vendetta; because he was, but his main concern was Imaroch. Surely without the light of Titov shining to guide the opposing force battling the darkness the dark Lord mastering the Shades would be given free reign, especially without Vendetta’s willingness to act as a firm leader. Eventually though Charon held no doubts the stubborn Rose would grow into the role quite perfectly.
“Such a fool,” the heavy voice disturbed the darkness, creating ripples which seemed to flood the banks of reality like the roiling waves of the oceans did the sands along the coast. Dazed, Charon breathed in deeply, tempted to open his eyes even though all which would greet him would be darkness; and Imaroch, perhaps.
“Poor little Shade,” the thick voice ground out mockingly, ink dripping like saliva from a rabid dog’s mouth, and the memory of cold claws digging deeply into his chest for his wildly beating heart made Charon recoil from its incessant pull. “Stay away,” he replied with a slur, annoyed for being taken away from his temporary peace; from his hot bath, from his cradle. The marks on his wrists flared in pain like they had before, and this time the Shade woke completely, finding himself lying on marble black stones. Cold reigned, his warm breath catching on the air in little clouds, frosty and shivering. Charon’s grey eyes stared at something he was unable to recognize until finally his eyelids opened further to reveal darkness so penetrating it appeared a hole in the very fabric of existence.
“Wake, fool, and see your destiny unfold with blackened claws, charred by frost and the decay of death. For isn’t he whose flesh has been consumed truly one with the earth and the darkness?” Whispers, that’s all his voice was, not very much unlike the tantalizing darkness offering power and lust. Empty sockets met grey and in that moment claws grabbed the hem’s of Charon’s shirt, drug him with a powerful grip to stand upright even though the Shade’s legs threatened to give out as the world tilted sickeningly.
“Wake up, Sullivan,” Imaroch admonished tersely and with a loopy grin Charon answered the master of darkness with light. It fluctuated underneath his hands, pulsating along with his sluggish heartbeat, but managed to scorch his Master anyway. No, no longer his master, Charon decided as Imaroch dropped him to the floor with a defiant shriek.
“Let me sleep,” the Shade ground out slowly; amazed by the new perspective of the throne Imaroch had parted with in favour of a little entertainment at his expense. “You could rule the Rose, if only you took her life,” Imaroch whispered, claws running across symbols black as night, making his skin crawl unpleasantly. Charon followed his actions through hazy eyes –the dream plane was not something he did well, apparently, at least not without his own energy to help him through the murky darkness. Rising against the darkness teeming before him was hard; as if a pressure weighed him down, limbs made of the heaviest metal and still –Imaroch failed to hurt him, no matter the slithering and seeking frigid fingers along his skin.
“You can’t hurt me,” Charon whispered with a lackadaisical laugh. “You can’t force me, the light will consume you; or whatever the darkness has left behind. Now let me sleep, sorry carrier of past burdens –you are nothing to me.” The shallow whisper was spat with finality, and once more Imaroch’s anger flared, took the air from his tired lungs. Before the darkness claimed him however Charon woke with a tremor, confused and dazed as to his whereabouts until he felt her warmth against his back –Vendetta. How long had he slept for? The dream seemed but a distant memory in the waning light of the embers heating the room; and yet for all its heating properties, Charon was shivering profusely.
Vendetta watched him as he spoke and offered no protest to his words, just a simple, "I am not ready to lead, Charon."She shook her head and sighed, rubbing her eyes and yawning softly. As much as she didn't want to sleep, her body said otherwise and commanded her and she could not object. She kept her eyes on the Shade that had lain beside her, thoughtfully it seemed and she felt a bit crestfallen that there was no window ledges around to satisfy her somewhat annoying habit so she would have to put up with sharing a bed with Charon for the moment, and to be honest, she did not mind so much.
Reluctantly, she laid back beside him, watching him as he slept with a small smile. She closed her eyes, blacking out the light with her eyelids as she tugged a blanket over herself and Charon, nimbly and then stifled another yawn as heat sank into her. Her eyes opened just a slit, contemplating the dozing Shade with a little amusement and thought, how peaceful he looked when he was asleep. How harmless and she smiled, glad she knew him better than to even imply he was harmless. He was quite the opposite. She couldn't help but ponder just how harmless he was around her, would he ever deliberately harm her through ill will and malice? She couldn't see him ever doing such a thing but that didn't mean it wasn't possible and she frowned a bit.
Sleep, it was all she needed, lest she become paranoid and angered at petty things and she needed to keep Charon close rather than push him away once more. She nestled down within the blankets, sleep overcoming her in a wave of exhaustion and she was plunged into illusions and dreams. Such a quiet pair they seemed...
Flashes of what had come and gone played themselves as if on a loop within Vendetta's mind, words echoing through her audio and she had no idea where she was supposed to be. The old cave! Where Titov had hidden, it was crumbling and decaying around her and the Elders were fading as well, with their master dead, what had they to do? They either cleared off or Vendetta would put out a death warrant on every single one of them for their crimes. She turned North and could see the towns and villages scattered beneath the mountain side and even some Roses deciding to vanish, followers of Titov and she hissed...
Her rather unsettling dream had caused her to twist and turn slightly in her sleep as a result she ended up curled into Charon, knees tucked up top her chest as she slept, blankets hanging off her shoulders and her arms wrapped around her frame in a docile looking sleep. She eventually settled as her dreams became more about fantasy and the sort of illusions most would deem 'normal'. Her ebony hair fell past her pale complexion although it was growing a little more healthy with a bit more colour to her cheeks. Her lips parted ever so slightly and her eyes remaining closed. The bandages gauzed over her had stayed in place thankfully and her wounds were sealing up well, though it would be a few days before the bandages could be taken off but it was probable that they would heal well and no lasting damage would be done, other than the wound on her shoulder due to it being reopened repeatedly.
She stirred gently and sighed in her sleep.
“You can’t afford to display such weakness any longer, Vendetta; you are now the guiding light of many. The sun does not waver in fright of being alone in the dark, illuminating even the moon when necessary,” Charon spoke in a softer, gentler tone than the words might initially imply. And it was true; without her, his sun, he –the moon- would be left abandoned in the dark for all times. Within her the rampant and pungent emotions the Shade loathed so were reflected partially; their ill-fitting presence impeding in a place not entirely theirs, the exhaustion which spoke of resignation instead of fiery clashing battles of harsh words being shared. Charon too was tired, not having slept during the rains of the day prior, nor during the battle which had taken so long and the night was still a few hours. Even though the light of day could not penetrate the thick stone barring their exit, his rhythm still longed he slept now –especially with his worries over Vendetta’s wellbeing stilled.
But the time had passed for him to lay down his defence in the Rose’s presence now that he could choose for it to be otherwise. Then again, his lackadaisical mind reasoned silently; what would she do to him? They were irreversibly tied, off all the places in the sanctuary to be safe it would be within the same room as the Rose, since his death would affect her life phenomenally.
Looking at the floor, heaving a weary sigh, Charon submitted to his arguing mind and pushed away from the wall to stalk closer to Vendetta. The bed looked appetizing and soft, and surely there would be enough room for two –what without any windows for the Rose to abuse in her everlasting adoration of the light.
“You better not be thinking of abandoning this bed any time soon though. You look pale.” Concern was shimmering through the off-hand remark, but before the Shade could be tortured displaying his weakness he sat down on the bed and laid back on it while still leaving ample space for Vendetta to lie down beside him. The blood on his shirt –Vendetta’s- had dried during the time he had waited, and any marring his skin had been consumed greedily, sucked and licked away like a parched man would savour every last drop of water. The scent lingering in the room was enough to rekindle the desire however, but for now the Shade’s tiredness impeded his will to pursue such endeavour.
The silence was as awkward as the rocky ceiling, where the shadows of the small fire ate at the light, creating an everlasting shimmer which humans tended to think of as comforting. Not even the soft sounds of lumps of wood being devoured by eager flames broke the discomfort and with another sigh Charon turned his back towards the Rose, mumbling a quiet: “rest,” in her direction, trusting his senses to awaken him the moment she tried to leave or anything of the likes. However his body had different plans with the comforts being offered and was already fast on its way to shutting down, eyes drooping as shivers crept down his spine in sheer relief of his muscles relaxing. Within seconds his breathing deepened and steadied in a slow rhythm, the darkness cradling his mind deep within the very core of his soul.
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