The Fortress on AO3
Endlessly long black hair fell and fell around him as he rose, shakily, to his feet. In harmony with his footsteps metal sang, chains dancing with his mane along the cold floor behind him. The shackles that bruised his lower legs stopped him just short of reaching the window - an iron whisper to remind him of his eternal imprisonment.
A seer, wise within himself though surrounded by an air that could be described as no less than madness, who whispers to the abyss the truths of the future despite the ghost of insanity that haunts his weary breath. Bruno Madrigal watches the breeze caress the forest around him, and finds himself quite unable to remember the feel of grass beneath his feet.
But the mouth of freedom had kissed him once, and he had turned his face away.
Its taste had long since faded.
