Wild would pace his tower, turning back and forth. He wasn't sure if he was angry, or frustrated, but he was practically wearing down the floor. He had been pacing for hours, thinking and arguing with himself... He had seen the posters.. he had felt that surge of hope, but he felt fear...
He had loathed himself for hours, sunless day after Ever moon night, battling at his cowardice, his facade of calm slipping and slipping. He had locked himself up here for a week, claiming research was calling him. Indeed it had, he had come up with a few ideas for the food situation, practicing the splicing of plant material.
But it was just another way he was trying to hide behind that facade of confidence and unswavering decision. Surrounded by a world of lies.
The reason he had joined on the side of the loyalists was pragmatism. It was the smartest course of action until another one occured.
Well now one had revealed itself. Which one do you ask? Why the 20th bombing of course. It had him boiling and writhing inside, barely able to keep himself from torching this tower, along with all his work.
He took a deep breath, making his way to his desk, slowly sitting down and begining to write... he had to help, or more and more would die in this fruitless and painful war.
Now that just sounded ridiculous.
'I write to offer my assistance. I
find myself in a place and time in
which my knowledge of the inside
could prove helpful. I hope this
Wild let out a loud growl of frustration, each word seeming to find him more and more stressed. A small burst of flames and the paper burnt into cinders in his hooves in seconds, the feather quill nothing but a bit of stick. He stared at it for a few moments, reality setting in as he realized how mad he had been going... if he continued fighting himself he would quickly find himself insane. Thank goodness he was away from the main substance of the castle, sound would not travel as far.
After cleaning up the ashes and such, he would sit himself on the carpet in the center of this room. He crossed his legs, his front hooves touching the floor beneath him as he closed his eyes. His experienced mind was sheilding out all negative or otherwise presences. The living, the dead or in the middle. He would expand his thoughts, calming himself...
Breathing In.. and out... in.. and out, like the gentle beating of a heart....
Wild's goal was as it always was. To find a way. An answer. Either from an outside source or from within his own mind.
How could he change this dark world?
And maybe... just maybe... he would sense another...
A Nightmare Takeover AU
1 post • Page 1 of 1