Finally the figure?s leave the room. Leaving their dark work done.
Drip...........Drip..........Drip......drip?. The soft sound of pattering blood droplets slapping the face of the marble floor, falling like raindrops. The figure below is coated in blood. The copper tasting sludge oozing out of his wounds. Every small movement feels like the cutting of a thousand tiny blades. The figure?s eyes, his eyes, those eyes are now a snowy white a mocking replacement of his once earthy brown eyes, a sure sign of his unquestionable blindness. The result of his captors handiwork. On closer inspection of the figure, one might say they saw something a kin to a man, however the many wounds, martyrs of his life, figure heads silently screaming of unquestionable torture remove him from such a distinction. No this thing couldn?t be called a man. What remained was simply an animated corpse, a pack of meat.
More time passes. Nothing happens, no one enters the room, the only action is the minute expulsions of breathe from the figures lungs. His is wearing little now, but what remains of the rags his tortuorers left him with. His upper torso is bare of clothing, bare of skin for even that was taken from him. More time passes, and still no one returns and the figures head still remains resting upon the floor, alone but for the sound of blood caressing the floor and the courting smell of decay as his broken legs begin to decay. However something has changed. It?s hard to notice, but undeniably it is there, there in those ghostly white eyes of his. Although they are blind to the world, those eyes see many things, they call out in silence a chant, an oath. Perhaps it is this, this silent call that is the most terrifying aspect of this nightmarish and horrific scene. For although the figure is blind, although he has clearly lost a great much, this call, this chant indeed never seems to end. Behind those eyes is something, something new. More time has passed and something, something that cannot be taken back, and something that will change everything has occured. For now, the room is empty, save for what to a passer by from a distance appears to be nothing more than the spilt art craft materials of an artist. For all that remains on the floor now is a puddle of Blood red, and shredded clothing, there is no body, there is no sign of what is to come.
- Thank you guys for the laughs etc - tad bit brutal ganging up on me in the end which was fair enough considering i did take advantage of my powers a bit n e eway I am taking a break from this for a while and when I come back my character will be a blind individual with no powers, and ill just be doing it for laughs - cya
