Another Day

[Signa]

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[atrb=background,http://i1279.photobucket.com/albums/y530/Name-Here-The-Best/MIDDLE3_zps9348b5ad.png] The obsidian nostrils of this tamed beast would flare and his broad chest would rise and fall, as he breathed in the crisp morning air intertwined with the sweet essence of the flowering plants that enveloped him. There was not a soul detectable to his keen sense of smell nor to his sight, he was completely alone, with nothing but the birds and their soothing songs. How he loved his moments of solitude, but with his lonesome wandering came the almost always present ache deep in his chest. A piece of his mind, his being, went astray from the king's mind, and for the reason why this was, he could not fathom. He had this aching desire, yearning to know more... about where his allegiance truly laid, about his kin... about himself... He had no prior knowledge of his former self, of his family (assuming he had one), of where he came from... and how could this be? Was there something so traumatizing that had erased all his memories or was there this immovable veil, preventing him from seeing what lay beyond... The king wanted these empty voids to be filled to the very brim with knowledge, whether that was understanding what had happened to him, or about the mysterious ways of the world, he did not care. Just something to fill these vacant spaces in his heart. The edges of his ebony lips would paint themselves into a saddening frown at this bothersome dilemma. It pained him constantly and with these depressing thoughts came the inescapable frustration that would soon boil into rage, blinding the man from any and all rationality. His saddened features would hardened and brows would furrow why in gods name couldn't he remember... Was he some weak whelp who couldn't even remember a single thing about himself! Was some unseen force preventing him from remembering? Was he cursed by some damn celestial being? Or was he that god damn unintelligent? What kind of man doesn't know anything about himself. Obsidian lips that would gently clothed the dangerous weapons of the tormented wolf would flicker, flashing the ivory of his teeth, displaying a dangerous side to this almost always gentle beast. Between clenched teeth the king would spit out harsh words, "Who the fuck... Am I...?" Signa "Speaks" Thinks

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