Deep down inside the bandage, inside the body, not the flesh or fat, not the blood nor bone. That one glowing, the cyan teal everyone spoke of... What were those he had? Let's dive down with him in the deep unconcious.
~
Was it the god gifted him the glow? And why were it called his soul? Was he acting of his own body or the soul was borrowing?... as we dive deeper, we found him back in the darkness staring at darkness. He was always waiting for a time to get up as soon as he could. The soul he got was not a normal soul, it felt like a power he had. He could read anyone at anywhere but to never control the soul. Permission to read but not to do anything with? He was still a mystery to solve and have yet anyone came up with a solution. As of he did not have anything laid out but he only developed by the time passed. Nothing could guess unless he said...
Outside he seemed imtimidating and quiet, yet helpful and always around for sacrification. But deep down he was a lot more quiet yet full of thoughts. Never was he able to focus on anything and being imtimidating would buy him time to think more. Thinking about the people, the kind that always stick with him and reading everything to ensure no one hurt or have bad reputation of him and would always fix the problem immidiately. He did not know how to wield a weapon that well nor anything fit him well. He did not know how to engage to a combat, engage to a talk or engage for a help. Though he knew to answer the talk in a pleasant way, knew to work out himself, knew to protect than attack. Until how long would he be gone? Then what would the rest do without him? He would not leave anyone even he was gone. There was no eye to watch but he would read them and to always know what they worry and anything happened. He knew to respect privacy, talking to him was like to talk with themself, he knew to be anyone he was asked but- himself? He spoke to himself a lot that made him full of thought. Might he fell tired quick but he couldn't hold his body. He got weaker as he aged and head got more thoughts as time ages. Just seeing what was he into was a maze but it did not have an end. The darkness everywhere, pitch black and a solid ground to stay on. Was he standing? Was he falling? Only stuck on the ground disorienting which up which down. Couldn't move, only laid still and feared. Making no noise, giving up determination in hopelessness. The only strict dedication was waiting. Waiting to see light, to see the path, to see himself waking up. Body incapitated, too heavy, too tiring, heart ache and the finger was dropped. Eyes fell down, nothing but their own blindness. The dark, dark, dark...
Yet the glowing was still a mystery. He couldn't see in dark but he could see what glows from eyes. He may sacrify a lot of things sometimes include reputation all so to push himself forward... to the pain. Push himself through the satisfaction of being hurt. Push himself off the scene to avoid knowing he was being taken cared seriously by people. Shaking from cold air, shaking from warmth of attention, living in the cold body with warm heart. No one can hurt him physically even stabbing severally in amount would not hurt him than detaching from him ruthlessly. Rather was he soft and weak, he was easily disturbed to disgusted then terrified the blood and flesh, the violence and offensive material. He lived in thoughts, he lived in a world of his. Then was the body borrowed? Or one body contain a living that share with a soul? An invisible partner? A secret friend to share thoughts?
The question kept on going...
...going...
...and going...
___
-Grrruhhh...
DranGon tried bend himself up at the middle of the cold night next to the fire. Everyone was asleep and there was Shawon on the sofa holding a book, beside was Corvik with humongous belly over the fire in deep sleep. The DranGon held his hand over Corvik's metal belly and stared at Shawon. He got the attention and looked over. Placed the book down and quietly stepped over him:
-Dran, can you lie down a bit? - and he openned the bandage and found the wound all covered and healed up, yet he covered back. He rubbed over his arm and lightly patted. Shawon himself was filled with happiness and graceful for his recovery.
-You want something to gulp down? Must have been very hungry for so many days sleeping.
Dran softly nod and stood up. The air was very warm inside the shelter and he followed Shawon into the kitchen to get him something to eat...
___
The snow storm slowly wore out. It wasn't blowing and snow was melting yet the air was cold. As DranGon himself was in deep dark of his sleep, his armour was fully packed up with such warm material to keep him warm.
DranGon came to see his own armour having the stuffed pad inside, might it be uncomfortable but it felt really warm inside. Immidiately putting up and feeling around.
-I need this for the longest time I could describe. Feeling stuffed and packed in bulky armour felt like heaven. Though if this is warm or not. I want to see the outside.
And he then openned the door, squeezed through the small door and had a good gaze around the place. It was the otherside of the valley, the cold gray atmosphere around as the sky desperately trying to get brighter. Cold air breezing by as he kept himself warm under a thick scarf on his neck. He went off the balcony and climbed down the valley and met a river. It was frozen but wasn't dared enough to step on with much weight. Fishes trapped under the layer of ice desperately keeping themselves warm of their own. He was deep in the surroundings when Corvik called:
-You feeling cold down there? Better be back soon as I don't think I can carry you up this steep slope.
He immidiately went back and climbing up the slippery slope and got back inside safe and sound. To have not seen the cold side of the world than the warm place was fascinating for him. But what did he see in his eyes that moment?
