◕ older version of my muse (for cute Shoukai)
Hate. Hate and anger and hate and destruction and hate and how dare they how dare they how dare they HOW DARE THEY--
But He is free now. He is free and He has power. The foolish worm should have known, knew what he was getting himself into when he tapped into His aether. Pitiful creature, such a deliciously easy mind to seize, to crush, to d e s t r o y. He was so easy to overwhelm, a coward who fled at the mere presence of His might. And now He is free to do as He wishes.
Filthy, tainted realm. Crawling with vilekin, with worthless disgusting mortals who thought they could contain Him H O W D A R E T H E Y the cries of His people, undying, not allowed to die, locked away for eternity, treated less than people - objects, playthings, curse those Allagans C U R S E T H E M T O T H E D E E P E S T H E L L S ! ! ! ! !
He breathed in, sneered at the lack of scents. Such a flimsy vessel, but the magicks within would suffice. It was a medium now, to channel His power, His wishes, His revenge. Hate and anger and hate and destruction and H A T E
A feral bellow erupted from His throat, hot and raw, and with a flick of His wrist magick coalesced and combusted, shattering a nearby crystal formation in a burst of aether and humming rock. Power. His lips cracked into a wide, demented smile, laden with bloodlust and madness. As He strode off, ignoring the gore that stained His robes, He left behind the smoking shell of a fortress, magitek painted crimson and black with soot and blood.
Deep in the recesses of a primal-addled mind, a pinprick psyche flickered. Was it over? Yes, it was. How long had it been? Five years? Ten? Twenty? He couldn’t even begin to guess. The moons blurred together, always the same: screams of the dead and dying, the Dreadwyrm’s spite and eons of fury condensed into rampaging magicks, pockets of civilization ground into rubble and wiped off the face of the map.
How many had he killed? How many had tried to stop him? How many had looked upon the once painfully timid and cowardly Raen, looked upon a countenance twisted manic by the thrill of power and freedom, and hated him? Pitied him? Feared him? How many more were left out there who could stand up to Bahamut’s insatiable hunger for retribution?
Faces flickered before him. Batugan and Altan’unegen. Xehahort. The Scions. Thubyrgeim. K'lyhia. K'rhid. E-Sumi-Yan. Alka Zolka. Y’mhitra.
He pushed their faces away, unable to look at them. i don’t deserve you. i don’t deserve any of you. i never did, and i certainly don’t now.
He was tired. Tired of the destruction. Tired of watching Bahamut go insane. Tired of the blood and the death and everything. please. i don’t care who it is. i don’t care what happens.
just please, end me and end this suffering.