AND THE VIOLENCE CAUSES SILENCE // RETURNING // WHO ARE WE MISTAKEN?

[GAWAIN]

we must away, ere break of day

It had been months. Several months since he had left to travel and find the other knights. In the end, he only found Lucifer. And even so, his heart dragged him elsewhere. And he was gone while this group and the other groups suffered the storm. While they were recovering, recounting old possessions and mourning lost ones, he had been doing fuck all. That wasn't true, somewhat. He had traveled to a secluded spot of the island, found someone who would fix his armor. Found a dragon who cursed him, and now he had come back. and not quite himself, it seemed.

He was completely silent as he walked toward the border, his black armor shiny and undented with new red accents. Piercing ruby eyes stared beyond the helmet, cold and distant. Under the mesh of thin fabric that guarded his body from the harsh cold of the metal, black and red scales had formed on his paws, and his claws seemed sharper. He halted just past the border, looking through the viewing holes of the dragon shaped helmet. The place had gone to shit, but it did seem that there were efforts to repair. A gentle wind rustled the standing trees and sunlight fell in patches onto his armor.

And he stood there, a ruined relic of something among the ruins of a swamp. He stood, like an empty cathedral, like some strange metal gargoyle.

#psy.