Great Flame [PK]

[frvma 1014]

[!] An illustration of Caedes painted a few years before his passing.

[OOC: Art by Unbaed.]

 

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“I see an eye. Haloed by flame, burning and great in the sky. Heralded by the sound of all things burning. Comrades adding fuel to a great flame washing across the lands, but I cannot participate. Not anymore.”

 

Once, there was a man. Cursed to live in constant effeminacy. Cædmon, he was born as. A man of foul temper, and contradictions.

 

Man of God, as much as he was a man of Azdromoth. But no more. In his home, Wall Street 3 in Winburgh, Veletz. Halberd to his throat, Wardren set upon the ground. One slice, and it was over. Abandoned by his only friends, abandoned by his mentor. Nothing was worth it to him anymore. Lost in a war he didn't care about it, surrounded by people he loathed.  

 

He would leave letters to only two people.

 

To Nerium.

Spoiler

"This is it. I have left the world. I wish I could've been there more for you. I would've liked to see your plans come to fruition. But alas, I will not be. I ask that you forgive me in this."

 

@Onnensr

 

To Aeolus.

Spoiler

"Do what you will with the information provided to you. You are smart enough to not be a fool about it."

 

@rukio

 

That was all that was left. Of a man, a poor, angry man.

 

Spoiler

 

yeah, he killed himself. that's just about it. 

 

[rukio 8924]

Glowing, golden eyes studied the short letter with some disdain.

 

"Hm."

 

A single hum from the throat was the only acknowledgement Aeolus of Khamees gave. Within his mind, however, Caedes came into view. A bloodied and battered Aeolus, knelt with his right arm shattered as the herald stood over him, warhammer out. Caedmon had been poised to strike; Aeolus had escaped his blow. How both desired to live then, though that was ever so long ago within Veletz's court.

 

"It was do or die."

 

He mumbled under his breath, thinking of their interactions after. Thoughts of Caedes threatening him, of occasional encounters on the road. Of threats and exchanges of philosophy. In some small way, he realized he would miss this enemy. That he would grieve their inability to find redemption in life.

 

Aeolus of Khamees signed the Lorraine.

 

"At least he died a mortal. May he rest in peace." 

[Onnensr 1908]

Father Nerium wept wildly in his chambers upon finding the letter intended for him alone, rereading it again and again those sparse words. The silver urn atop the desk stared at him, and he stared back with eyes muddied by eyeshadow and tears, grasping out for it and shaking it madly. "You didn't have to die!! My dearest friend!" he wailed. 

Crashing the urn onto the wooden surface, he unscrewed it, staring into all that tragic dust. It was these ashes, and a single vertebrae turned into an espresso cup, what all remained... "You're not leaving me.. You can't ever leave me." he spat, smudging his eyes with his fists. Scooping up the ashes with a hand, he shoveled them into his mouth, sobbing and coughing, chewing and swallowing, chasing them with sips of espresso. "CAEDES!" he cried through a mouth full of gray grit,

"CAEDES STAY WITH ME!"