Thread: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Temptationist]

RE One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama There was nothing left to do now than to await my impeding doom. I had always heard that death could be sensed it could felt within you prior to your disposal. But I... I did not feel death. I didn't feel it's dark, creeping presence in my path. I felt nothing. I felt numb. A sort of internal numbness that turns a concept as deep as death, into something minute, even trivial. As I looked out the window to a crumbling city, I could feel nothing but heartbreak. King Coenwulf was a ruler, a true leader. And now his empire - a chunk of Anglo-Saxon culture instantly destroyed in a matter of minutes. And all it took was one mass of savage men to disintegrate and entire Kentish army. The whole event was embarrassing. King Cuthred and his failed attempts to rule were pathetic, at best. His complete lack of leadership ability of even a care for the city he grasped brought me great sadness, and even more anger. It brought me shame. I was ashamed to be his kin, even if under unfavourable circumstances. Despite my mother's identity as a servant, my father, a noble man and great emperor, was a kind soul. He loved unconditionally, regardless of status nor wealth. The unfortune of a powerful hierarchy plagued his ability to give my mother and I the life he truly wanted. Had he been able to marry my mother, he would have. I believe it as much as she did that the two shared a deep bond with one another, regardless of her poor identity. He never wanted this life for me. It was a concept I repeated to myself over and over again. He entrusted my existence to the hands of his brother whom he adored and trusted deeply. Little did he know, his precious brother, and my uncle, was a cruel man. He was a demon in all forms - he abused not only a impure blood cripple like myself, but also his on blood his own children. He hated his wife, and indulged in the company of hundreds of mistresses. God forbid they became carriers of his child - he would kill them, slaughter them and their children. Something he wished Coenwulf had done with my mother and I. He told me so repeatedly. Somehow in my mother of closing death, his cowardice is the only thing that corrupted my thoughts. The hatred I bore for him was a sin in itself. But was it really a sin to curse the devil in disguise? My gaze never quit the man in blood. Something about his definitive determination presented a depth of bravery I had never witnessed before. This man was invincible. Perhaps being fearless made him less of a man and more of a beast. Fear the fine line between man and beast. As I watched this man climb the backs of his men to breach the castle wall, I began to wonder if really the lack of fear made him more of a man, not less so. It only took moments for the Pagan to find me in the castle. Seconds after I sung my last word, Amen, - the door opened, and just by the presence of the being, I could tell it was the same Pagan that lead the breach of the castle. Still looking out the window, I was too shy - or maybe I was afraid - to turn and look him in the eyes. I looked down, slowly peaking over my shoulder to intermittently lock eyes with the beast. I was surprised, surprised at what I saw. Not that the image of his bloody body were any different than outside, but that there was a kindness in his eyes - a soft gaze that was not threatening, but comforting, and passionate. Speaking words I could not understand, I did not respond with words, but more merely with my eyes and posture. Not breaking the eye contact I had just established, my body calmly shifted away from the window. The caution I took soon dissipated as the words changed from foreign, to recognizable. My eyes widened slightly. Despite a thick accent, the words were understandable. You know my language... The response was less of a question, and more of a statement of surprise. I let a second of silence fall before a wave of hope washed over me at the sight of you pushing back the two men. The Christians say that you are more beast than man... But I've come to wonder, in seeing you grip the back of your men to breach these castle walls... That perhaps the lack of fear in your eyes makes you less of a monster, and even more of a man.