| Subject: *~Inner turmoil brings the past's follies towards the present*` |
Author:
Chrestomanci
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Date Posted: 14:49:07 09/03/02 Tue
The Wraith had left his sister and the Death Angel across the desert, and now here he sat in the hash sand, his elbows resting 'pon his knees looking almost serene though his physical appearance was anything but.
Wings tattered and bleeding, hair mussed ans highlighted with blood.
The Wraith enjoyed his free moments of solitude for but a second when the story of hid past came back to him fully:
Chrestomanci: prince of the Wraith-kind, Destroyer. No one could stop this young General 'pon his warpath, not even the veterans whom he slayed with an easy hand.
A funny thing, for such a talrnt to come along, and yet such a folly.
Chres was rather smitten with a mortal-girl, in her realm she was considered a peasent by all standards, in his she was considered no more then cattle.
Wraith-kind, mind, were no better then any type of Demonkind, save they passed as Angels,and so their deeds were made all the more simpler. There were few Wraiths whom's duty was to bring humankind to their kind to be used a food: for the Wraiths were closely knitted to the Vampirekind and drank blood like their Vampire cousins.
One evening, Chrestomanci walked the streets alone on gaurd duty, slightly angered with the fact that a high ranking one such as himself would be put into this lowly bind, even if it was only for a night.
He heard someone sobbing and he had gone to investigate, his hand close to his sword. What he looked upon stunned him. A human girl lay in an alleyway, her hand to her cheek trying to quench the flow of blood that came from a wound there.
She backed away as Chres approached her, but Chres spoke gently to the frightened creature and managed to get near to her without her screaming in fright. Right away, Chres loved this girl and he didn't want her taken to the holding area where she would be killed.
He smiled, "I'm Chrestomanci, what's your name?"
She answered hesitantly, "Apoletta."
Chres sat down beside her, a gentle wing encasing her, "How did you run from the holders, girl?"
"I could do naught else, they were to kill me."
Chres eyes the cut on her face, suddenly hungering for blood though he ignored the hungered pangs in his stomach, "What makes you think I shan't take you back, or kill you m'self?"
Her eyes widen, "You would?!"
Chres laughed.
****
Days, months passed quickly and Chres and 'letta lived togehter in secret. The bond between them grew and grew and Chres had all the more trouble to keep her a secret.
First of all, his sister was born...and she was sent to live with him when famine struck his kin's home.
Now Chres had two mouths to feed, one blood the other any other food product he could scrounge up.
It became hard for the General to feed his sibling and his lover both. One day when he was away and Letta took care of Jahanaci a group of rogues came to his homestead and stole away young Jahanaci.
When Chres returned from his recent campaign he saw Letta weeping on the floor and Jahanaci's basinet robbed.
Chres's duty was to his kin, and Letta tried to stop him from leavingl, tried desperatly..then the unthinkable..the sword sliced into her flesh and she died in his arms, she wearing her love for him as her breath left.
Chres could do naught but take her too the Tomb, a place where only exalted Wraiths were buried. He knew she would never be lad beneath it in her own crypt, but he left her there as his only option.
Then his search for his sister began, under the guise of Raren the Nymph and his coming to the desert.
By this time Chres was sobbing, blood tears soaking into his shirt, his shoulder shaking with the sobs that wracked his body.
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