The hooded and robed man sat in a patch of low grass in the middle of the forest. Several items from a twill pack were removed: candles placed in a semi-circle, bunches of herbs between, several carved rocks and even a light blue gem was set meticulously in front of him. The twill, now empty, was flattened at the top of his arrangement.
In a slow, calm, collected bounce of motion, each candle was lit. The glow radiated just enough around him to reveal shadowed hands poised above him, fingers eagerly poised like claws to strike. He did not react.
The man whispered, his words a repeated string of prayers; over and over for hours. The light pulsated, pushing back the hands with gentle strength, but they persisted, hovering. Present.
Yet he was calm, expectant. He spoke louder as the fire burned away, melted the wax of the candles.
The moon hung over him, lit up the hands that threatened him, but he remained ever-calm– serene almost--coveted inside that dome of candlelight.
But then the twill caught fire just minutes before sunrise. He gasped slightly. The momentary lapse in prayer caused the bubble around him to dent. He felt it physically, as if someone had just punched him in the side. Wincing, he bent against the jab, and the shadowed hands above him quivered as if laughing before stretching down.
Quickly, he began his prayers again. Their fingertips tickled against his skin. Burned, even. He felt the goosebumps across his body as his prayers lifted in cadence again. It lasted long enough for the sun to break across the mountains and the shadowed hands screamed before retreating fully.
At the end of it, the hooded man stood and gazed down in quiet contemplation of the items he had burned in prayer. He gestured a symbol in front of him, then put his hands in his pockets like a disgruntled teen, and sauntered off out of the forest.
There was a long tattered cloak I loved to wear… and I decided to draw it.
My eyes were a dark crimson and my hair was a nice silver-ish color. I had claws that could easily cut through human skin.
I’ll draw a fully colored picture later at some point, but thought I should put this here so you would know more about me!
Three places. First row is Cyrus’s family estate in the Hamptons. The second is his secret hideaway apartment in Brooklyn that no living being has stepped inside (besides Cy, ofc). And the third is his home in Beverly Hills where he’s currently residing with his sisters and his lover (awkwardddd).
He’s the type of character who loves to travel, but because of his hectic work life, he hardly ever gets to enjoy traveling. He’s consistently traveling for business trips, but he never really gets to experience the culture outside of fancy hotel rooms and traditional vegetarian dishes. After Penny, Cyrus has learned to let go a little. Take some time off for himself so he could actually entertain the idea of fun.
