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  1. Cyan eyes once again closed from slits of reality, his gills frilling with an intake of the sea, his mind freeing as he moved floating step to floating step, barely moving the very dust from their place; his toes barely molesting the space of the sand as they collected unto him, the boy left to disappear from the world, to become invisible from the warmth of others. In his mind, the confines were gone, the chains broken as a boy sculpted his landscape through the sands buried in a murky emptiness, the void of the mind left untouched by most for within the darkness lay the worst of betrayals, the betrayal of the self. In these sands a memory which imprinted itself into his mind, making the boy named Vindex aware of the history left unspoken through removed tongue, and bloodied throat, a nightmare which repeated itself with every passing moment that he moved from the street he edged down, to the beginning of the next. This would part momentarily as his eyes once again, adjusting to the light, and to the surroundings he was invoked upon; the pressure of the sea held him once again like chains upon the prisoner, a grand illusion of freedom cast down by the pride of a tyrannical being, or beings. This pressure would seep down to the very soul of Vindex, choking him like the noose of reality which swept down upon the mind's neck, and held them from touching the truth, and as his soul gasped for life passed this cataclysmic reveling, it all changed, the breath leaving as the lips opened, exhaling the shadows from his body, secreting the memories of bloodshed from another, and the silence for but a moment began once more. It's a hard thing to imagine, living with the understanding of living without uni-secular thoughts, going mad by the memories of those you never met, these memories in the eyes of another, to experience what only few could grasp, what few could remotely fathom; it was this same gift which drove a boy to malice, and it was in this gift that the curse of ruin was born for the boy, or so it was unraveling still a the street was blown passed him, his body on a form of autopilot as he watched on, entranced by the horrors of this people, the justice of Nymeria serving as not only the shield of protection, acting as a guardian of the masses, but also as the shiv being buried within Vindex's very heart; each strike to his breast bleeding the kindness, bleeding the innocence down within the sand, so that he may one day become the en-actor of his own ruin. His eyes would stay open as he moved, almost silently; the sand he had collected for warmth warping as his eyes gazed upon his fellow kind, noting their beauty through accessory, rather than natural figure as they usually intended; they now covered themselves like the reaper trying to comfort a common harlot. In this regard, vindex was far too ignorant to the festivity at hand to understand why they did so, and without the knowledge to proctor a full awareness, he instead only tinkered the fact he was a sore thumb as around him, others seemed to pierce a glaring eye towards him, making him shift deep down, his stomach knotting like a festering worm digging to the core of a rotting apple. In this regard to wish to fit in, he gradually morphed the sand upon his body, his mind concentrating upon the flesh to seek a form of apparel; his imagination the greatest key to his will, and upon his will enforced the aetheral, and pact; allowing him to replicate what he saw, and what he could imagine. At first, his apparel only seemed to follow the murky sand color, which would strike out among the clash of bright colors, further striking him out, and so with a bit more effort, and some creative resolve; the young vindex used his child imagination to paint a new form of artwork, that of the sand around him. His legs remained bare, sand coating the groin and waist in what seemed like a robe lay, where his arms were bare as rough patches of sand formed the shape of scales. His fingers covered by rings of sand, turned to a brown pottery color; it was no use trying to change color and so instead; he resembled a child dressed in pottery, his athletic frame still on display, yet shined as both sophisticated by the intricate design work, which came from further shaping as he moved; and with savagery, a personal touch to assume a more commanding look, though it couldn't be farther from acceptable. to finish the look, he looked upon an alley to find an abandoned drape of a light tan color. Sneaking to it, the young vindex simply snatched it, and wore it as a cover, creating a broach from the sand to completely cover his arms, and shoulders, it falling upon his inner arms, and leaving only a slit of the chest visible. With some handiwork with the broach came a proper hood, though part of the drape remained tattered, making a worn look emerge. Once again moving, now donning a full attire of makeshift materials and sand, Vindex continued down his path, moving closer and closer to the throne area, looking audaciously suspicious at the same time.
  2. "In the end, the sand covered the graves of the traitors, their mangled throats calling for their final saviors; The tongue of black, eyes of blue, gills of the dust. Now ripped and torn, scabbed by pride and lust; had there been but one crime in all the land not covered completely, by the passing sand." Imagine if you will, a mind of must and murk, the blackness of the deep clouding the land of imagination, once a shining monument of a child, now the husk of the abandoned; the pain driven upon the flesh like the nail within the wrist of a cloak and dagger execution. Oh how this blackness clouds the judgement of the pure, corrupting the innocent while twisting and contorting, rotting the very core of the child's mind creating schisms of the self. This blackness so unjust, so cruel only to be created by the pain of a tether to reality being severed like the final connection of a mother and child, the throat of life slit and the chains of comfort broken like the back of a father protecting his legacy. This darkness shrouding thought of a future without the pain, without the sadness, yet not to impending that it may not yield to the heart beat of another, though the cold blanket held so much strangling power upon the mind. Now within this mind, so clouded by a shroud of blackness also comes the spiraling of the shadows, the laughter of a churning ocean; demons of torment casting their hooks deep within the chakra, the true self dragged to the pit of cold as their icy links seemed to almost clang together. Foreign hands of the accusing strapping the hands, feet and throat of a child down into the void of his deepest self doubt. The weight was immense upon the soul, heavy chains of depression sinking the boy with the force of his own sorrow. Bolstered by the swords of loneliness and a wish to cease existing being pierced through the throat, and through the heart, the tongue flicking no words, the heart beating no warmth. Upon his eyes the rags of unrest bound his sight; creating the blackness which clouded him so vigorously, and around his ears the shouting heads of two voices, one manic energy, one of pained cries. These were the sights of a child's mind, so young, so intended innocent before his luck had run out so similar to the gambler's last hand. Within this darkness an hourglass of seeming souls that lay unrested, forever bound by their contract with the blood writ, their angry calls wishing life upon the boy, for the darkness to end, and for the boy to open his eyes, to see through the veil that held him down. Their voices piercing the shouts of the two angry heads, the hour glass seeming to grow larger with the passing time, each grain of sand a soul clawing to escape. It was within this expansion within the mind, the voice of the forgotten growing louder within his prison was there an awakening, the shadows beginning to create a sense of vertigo, the vortex of despair rushing now as the boy felt almost free of his feet, the chains sucking him within as the voice of a combined might screamed for him to press on, for him to only open his eyes and see through the veil. It took little more than the world of the endless to scream to pierce completely through the endless yelling, it was the symphony of hope itself which had defeated the screaming, and through it a set of cyan eyes opened, so bright that the shadows seemed to burn away, melting in the midst of the vortex. With all of his might, all the strength that could be mustered, the boy fought against the chains, lifting his arm slowly, trembling and white knuckled towards the surface of what now seemed like an endless murky ocean, a whirlpool circling him with the memories of death, of abandonment and of hate. It was through these memories that his anger had been released, a powerful strike of lightening splitting the chains and the hour glass as both exploded, his eyes swirling as the vortex became a sand storm enveloping the entire landscape; the blackness burning to the corners of a singular eye, one of cyan color looking directly at the boy, who in turn looked upon it before it erupted into a powerful gust of sand, filling the child in a complete sphere. With this the boy's mouth opened and a cry of freedom erupting ending his fear as he snapped back to reality. His eyelids had squeezed shut for what seemed to be a life time, a life time of heaviness as a quiver of grief struck the small frame of a young orphan named Vindex, the surviving member of a family broken by deceit, by treason, and by exilement. Yes, Vindex, a seven year old Nymerian, once the son of a mage and an artist now became Vindex, the boy of sands. His eyes becoming visible now as the blinking ended, darkness becoming a silhouette of a dark alleyway, abandoned at the excitement of something unknown to himself. In this alleyway, the only comfort to the child being what few grains of sand seemed to surround him on the floor of the great empire; sands which were filled with shards of memories, and of instincts and emotions which often kissed their ways into Vindex's fragile mind, cursed by a life contract with the forgotten souls of the exiled, of the long since dead, and of the beasts which once inhabited this land he called home. A fringe of cold tendrils seemed to molest the young boy's body as the darker part of this oceanic city was colder, less inhabited or cared for making it much less comfortable than some of the other areas. His bare skin toughed already at seven years old, however this wasn't enough to essentially keep him warm, he held not much fat, the athletic life style he lived, along with that of all others who called this land home held a strict digression against fat, it was only small amounts healthy to the body which would be left not yet sculpted, and even now at his age were their sculpted muscles from swimming and the day to day life in a place with more pressure. Bluish skin seemed to make no difference to anyone around here, though seeming taboo to him to have any other skin color, it was unaware to him that in other cultures, such as the land dwellers, his appearance would seem almost monstrous, though even naturally he felt monstrous due to the people's lack of hospitality towards this young man, worried that his presence would invite the teachings of blasphemy and wrong doing, even after he was completely proven innocent and unattached by the teachings of his parents. His nose caught the smell of freshly prepared food, and that of something more, something of preparation; the smell that comes with excitement, if even capable of explanation. It was this aroma of sorts which made him aware of an energetic feel in the air, something which even made him giddy, though it was shrugged off immediately by the tendrils of cold which kept strangling him of his attention. His mind was focused now on warmth, and with much thought on the process of how to get warm, he failed to realize that subconsciously his mind was commanding a small amount of sand to lift up with the current, clustering in small fine orbs which remained behind him within the silhouette. These orbs at first looking as though he were hanging ornaments would soon come closer, and as he allowed his mind to slip into a sense of warmness, feeling the bliss of the world's core bring the warmth up, he would once again close his eyes and be brought into the world of his mind once more; all whilst sitting upon the floor, calming his mind. With the gentleness of a mother swaddling her infant, the sand began to swirl and dance around the child with various speeds, each one finding a special area before draining themselves into streams to don around the child, his eyes remaining completely closed as he seemed to become lost in thought; the sand creating a form of natural armor around the child, the differing colors molding and meshing together before changing to his natural skin color, making a mirror of the vessel. Between each grain, the souls of the forgotten being forged with Vindex's own chakra; creating a solid packed light weight armor, acting as nothing more than a heat source, and perhaps a way of camouflage, the sand was able to change its natural color depending on the needs of the boy, however for now it was needed to be natural as a second skin had been finished, down to the closest details of his physical form. The manipulation of sand created a magic residue however, visible by those capable of seeing the trails left behind, though this was not visible by the naked eye. It also caused the boy to appear slightly taller, and bigger as he built up his armor. As he opened his eyes, the last of the sand found its way upon his flesh and he seemed not yet phased by it. This armor seemed like nothing to Vindex as he smirked, feeling slightly warmer as his own body temperature was contained and yet breathed outwardly like a flexible body suit made for regulating the heat. While it wasn't exactly made for combat, the suit of sand acted as a defense mechanism to vindex, one he wasn't entirely aware of to a full degree. Vindex found this occurrence to be the idea of his mother and father hugging him, which though was a naive way of looking at the situation, was not entirely untrue; for all the souls of the exiled found in the blood cast upon the sand found fragments of itself within this boy's armor, including that of his mother and father beaten and bloodied in this city, their thoughts of vindex warming him now mentally as the sand warmed him physically. Though the silhouettes of shadows were company for Vindex, the smell of excitement in the city made him curious and so the child clad in a shell of sand lifted to his feet, pushing his feet upwards and breaking the chains of the cold, causing his bones to crack as he stretched. Muscles convulsing, the body waking up like the engine of a mighty machine being started for the first time after a long slumber, rough and mighty, yet still battered. His breath was quick for a moment, adjusting to the movement of abrupt awakening; yet it was worth it as his feet made contact with the fluffy sand, protected by a shell which was unforgiving, yet accepting of more sand. With his first step catching almost no noise, he continued down the alleyway towards the end of a side road, looking up he saw what looked to be more buildings, a blank look standing in the middle of a road just waiting to be approached, though he mentally and physically remained unaware of this, and would think it better to just remain silent around others. Through and through stood a child so free of happiness and so burdened by pain, though for now he locked it away in a cage of curiosity, and of excitement as he finally allowed the smell and feel of the city to over take him, creating a weak attempt at a smile, as he closed his eyes once more, and reopened them with a false sense of determination and courage.