His eyes snapped open. Just a dream.

No, not a dream. The regicide lowered his hand to his stomach. It came back soaked in blood. A hallucination.

He staggered forward, vision blurring. Something wet and sticky matted his usually clean hair. One of his eyes refused to work at all...someone must have caught him with a nice little slash. He didn't want to touch it to find out. Everything seemed hazy--he couldn't remember where he was, what had happened--it must have had something to do with that knock on the head. Shapes swam in and out of focus, colors running together like watercolors on canvas.

Kellson pitched forward, throwing a hand out just in time to stop his face from hitting the ground. Strange...his fingers didn't feel. Was it sand, soil, stone? Who knew? Blood dripped from deep gashes in his chest and stomach. Those would leave some nice little scars...

...On a corpse. Kellson rolled over, staring at the sky. Yes, he was outside. His dim vision cleared a tiny bit, taking in the magnificent stars. Heaven.

His wings were splayed beneath him, slashed, tattered, and torn. The demi-angel chuckled slightly, blood oozing out of his mouth and wounded eye as he did so. Normally, he would have passed out long ago with his wings hurt so badly. Not tonight.

Tonight...

Kellson's unfeeling hand reached up to touch his crucifix. It felt...nice. He was tired. He hadn't felt fatigue in years. His breath came harshly, but he grinned nonetheless. "I remember," he gasped out, eyes closing and breath rattling. "'I'll rest when I'm dead.'"

Soon, a kind gentlemen of a farmer found the blood-drenched corpse and gave it a decent burial. No one was there.

---

It started to rain. The fresh mound was quickly washed away as the heavens opened, weeping an ocean of tears. The pale face, then torso of the regicide reappeared, grinning a mad, sardonic grin even in repose.

The grin widened as the corpse straightened, mud cascading off of the animated cadaver. Crimson and gold fire danced up and down the body, burning clothes, skin, hair and blood. The mud covering the legs exploded, flying up into the sky only to fall back down with the pouring rain.

A gleaming white skeleton stood, joints clacking. It glanced down at itself, examining the bleached bones that had previously never felt air. Then, it stared at the sky, opened its mouth, and let wordless rage fly forth into the air.

OoC: HOLY **** HE'S DEAD AS A DOORNAIL...and looking fine. Who dun it? Where is he? What's going on? ...Well, I dunno yet. *goes off to make a new/old character*

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Kellson (Deceased). Johnny Bones (Only Technically Deceased).A witticism goes here.