((er... Limited...?))
How dark are our hearts?
A feeling close to nostalgia, tickling up one's spine like a vagrant raindrop that ceased to fall so long ago. Great towers rise, and none but dark ones stood upon the altar to sentance and condemn; forever contradicted, for all was not at peace, with soul and self.
How deep was our longing?
Softly, paws fell upon stone, stone that had long since forgotten the feel of footsteps. All was silent within the foreboding ground, with murderous intent still lingering in the air, after these long centuries of dormancy and neglect. Perhaps this figure was here to resurrect these wayward ideals?
But no, he only watched.
A bell's tinkling; a feeling of annoyance. For how long had he been plagued with this dreaded trinket? Too long, far too long. And yet, he could not find it within himself to relinquish it.
Green flames burned in such an unreal fashion, like the mage-fires of the old, scorching nothing. Perhaps it was cold flame. A dark pelt, dark but still ashen, streaked with silver, with age? No, not age, for the being was young still.
What did he want here?