Blood And Stone

Chapter 33: Supple Delicacies

With each step, the grass withered and shrank away from Torvir, crumbling into a bitter nothingness. Any insect that dared drink from him, dehydrated in an instant, blowing away like dust in the wind, creating a murky haze around him that he found quite pleasant. He treasured his alone time more and more with each step, reveling in the death and chaos he created by simply existing. His evil ways became something glorious in his eyes, something that should be worshipped and recognized for the great power that it was. The smile that crossed his crusty lips let loose a small drop of blood and lit his eyes like the dull pools of self-righteousness they were. Even the man's odor became foul enough to make the most disgusting of beasts and humans force their breakfasts to remain trapped in their throats as opposed to spraying it out across the ground beneath their shoeless feet.

A few disgustingly sunny days had passed since he had begun his journey on foot. Though the world around him insisted on trying to be bright and alive, Torvir took pleasure in removing the life from his presence, slaughtering innocent animals as he went. The occasional drifter met him in the woods and found themselves relieved of their gold and will to breathe. He couldn't help but wonder if his ancestor Tekkir was happy with him or not, not that he truly cared for the man's approval. He had fallen to the Gods' power like a frail twig beneath the foot of an ogre.

Torvir's thoughts drifted to the image of the goddess, Fate, as she had clutched his throat. Even he had to admit that she was a beautiful woman, her cheeks supple and rosey with rage. Her lavender eyes had come to life with the irritation and strength that forced her hands around his throat so tightly. Hatred looked good on the woman even though she was a woman and the object of his desires, in a hungry-for-power sort of way. He closed his eyes now, feeling for the God that walked among the mortals, wondering if it were Fate. He got a much calmer energy than what he believed Fate would hold. His eyes rolled and he audibly groaned. That must mean it was the little pipsqueak Peace.

Torvir spat a thick, green ball of mucus on the ground in disgust. Peace was his least favorite of the gods, her bubbly personality made him want to vomit. Her clear blue eyes were as disconcerting as they could be. There wasn't much in the world that he hated more than her and her ridiculously innocent values but she wasn't powerful enough to keep him from his goals so, he supposed it was good that it was her in the mortal realm instead of one of her sisters.

Bouncing his old, limping body over a fallen tree, Torvir hobbled along, his ugly walking stick occasionally setting free a small glowing trail to ensure he stayed on track, heading him to a nice little creek that he could follow. His next step faltered, bending his knees at an unnatural angle to the side and sending him stumbling to the ground. The shift in the atmosphere around him was palpable, pricking his skin like a thousand bee stings. The oxygen that had surrounded him moments before dissipated and burst forward like fire, causing him to gasp and shrink against its heat. It took him several moments to get his bearings before he looked into the waters of the creek. "What was that?"

His reflection scoffed at him and rolled its eyes in annoyance. "You grow old and senile, you useless thing. There has been a break in the threads of the tapestry. Fate is desperately trying to repair it but one of the gods has been severely angered."

"Peace?" He asked, hoping she would be angry enough to leave her foolish ways behind.

"Nothing but wind between your ears, fool. I cannot identify which god. Seems as though their powers are wavering." His reflection pondered its own words as they left its glossy lips. The gods' powers were wavering? What could cause that when he hadn't yet taken action against them? Perhaps there was another in search for power. "The howling echoes once again."

Torvir slapped at the surface of the water, his reflection shattering for a moment before gathering itself to stare at him with a glare. It became abundantly clear that his reflection had more than enough of his disgusting humanity as it reached out and drew Torvir's face into the shallow pool. The water became thick with the oil and grime that washed free for the tangles of facial hair that screamed for care on his chin.