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Ranarath · #2 (**permalink**) [ ] 08-02-2007, 11:15 PM

One always hears of the desire to live. Unknown strength and willpower given to those who burn with a desire to continue existing, even in the throes of death. However, no one ever speaks of the desire to die, a desire that most certainly exists. The need to return to nothingness, an existence without pain, hurt, and hatred but also without joy, love, and happiness. A desire brought on by the worthlessness of one’s life, the torment of a broken heart, the anger at all that comes to pass. Yet this feeling doesn’t exist in all things as the will to live does. Only those that have the ability to feel self-doubt experience this drive. In some instances, the desire to go to non-existence can be stronger than the will to continue one’s existence. How powerful it can be, the desire to die.

Adonis contemplated as he absentmindedly plucked the strings of Naraka. Blood ran down the strings, staining the bard’s hand red with wet stickiness, a testament to the atrocities it helped commit. The physical presence of the blood wouldn’t be hard to get rid of. A simple stream or pond would wash it off. No, it was the reason the blood was there that would forever sully his fingers. The blood the harp wept almost seemed to come from the streams of red that trickled around the undead’s feet.

This village, like so many others, had accepted the songster’s presence with open arms, not knowing what awaited them. Then they gave themselves to death as he sang his greatest song. Thanatos’ Desire did not force people to kill themselves; it simply elevated the desire to die that a person already had. People had thrown themselves from roofs, stabbed their chests, drown in any puddle of water, and poisoned their life with everyday substances. Though, Adonis could always tell which persons were close to ending their lives before he came along. They always had the most dramatic deaths. One woman had died near him in a glorious way. She had taken a poison that would stop her heart in only a few minutes. But, before the poison could fully spread, the woman had taken a knife and had attempted to cut out her own heart. It was hard to determine what had killed her first, the poison or the loss of blood.

However, even in the depth of his own thoughts, the bard did not fail to notice a newcomer to the scene. Dressed in a long, white robe with a smaller, black one showing underneath, the angel did nothing to hide his most glorious aspect: a pair of full, feathery white wings that almost glowed in brilliance. “Adonis Ronen,” he stated, his voice like a melodious strain, “your work has not gone unnoticed. Especially by those whose task is to guide souls to Heaven. You’ve kept them busy.” A small smile tugged at the angel’s lips.

A rumble emerged from the undead’s shadow as the familiar prepared to spring. Stay where you are, Adonis commanded Flauros and then turned his attention to the white being, “What do you want of me, messenger?” A bit of contempt was added to the meager title.

“I am an angel of The Hierarchs and I have come for you. Your... assistance is needed by us,” the messenger worded his request or, rather, demand carefully.

The bard turned away, “I do not have... permission to go with you. Leave me.” He began to pluck at Naraka’s strings once more, wanting nothing to do with angels and their ways.

“I see you do not realize the power we have over the souls of deceased. Can I not offer freedom?”

The milky eyes closed as Lucia swam into his mind’s eye, “I don’t need release from my bondage. I do this of my own free will.”

The angel smiled with cunning, “It wasn’t your freedom I offered. We can free others.”

Adonis’ head snapped upwards, astonishment on his features, “You... you could free her?” Tears filled the corner’s of his eyes, “You could free Lucia?” Feeling his desperation, the demon growled at his master, “Not command. Against Her.”

The holy being held out a hand, “Come.”

OoC: Well, I kinda managed to salvage my post.