Zenith Morrow
Dark Lord's Castle
Heavy grey spread across the sky, bringing with it the sweet scent of fresh rain while it blotted out the man lights of the stars though the moon continued to shine through for the young man to see from where he stood upon the very tallest spire of his masters castle. He was the only one of any of the servants that could get this high off the ground without falling to Earth to make a terrible mess, and the only who could stand upon the single spike as he did now watching the sky and listening for anything he would not recognize. One foot raised slightly he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to spread further out, closer to the kingdom that now shared in the rain that was just arriving here beneath the mountains and beside the cliff. Jaquen was not far away, tormenting a human village not too far from the Church, a small group of the Undead Army he led with him to hold down the women and children as he slowly tore apart their lovers and brought them back to repeat the process on them. Zenith had never trusted this one, he was difficult to read and there was little that could cause the necromancer pain after the years of tormenting himself and the Legion to perfect the process. He worked with them, not for Alastor, as both the Dark Lord and the man who served him were completely aware that if Jaquen chose he could easily overthrow them and do it himself; but Jaquen needed a way in and only Zenith could provide that, because skeletons cannot fly and they have the intelligence to move and fight.
After this war was done he would have to kill Jaquen, he was perfectly aware of that and it did not bother him to know it; he cared not for anyone but his master.
Violet flickered into existence while the man blinked open his eyes to stare up at the darkening sky again, the first drops of rain finally falling upon his face though he did not move from the last he stood. Wings spread wide as the deep clouds, ink black against the pale darkness and difficult to see from far away. Zenith preferred dark wings and clothes, given his resurrection and his purpose now, light colours did not suit his way of current life. He looked passed the cloud cover while the heavy pattering upon the roof of the castle grew sdeadily louder, allowing his eyes to slip passed the dense covering to come out above the darkness where the moon and stars still cast an eary glow upon the sky. The rain would not last long, but there would be much more of it then there had been the last time, but rain slowed down human activity and if the humans were slow then they could act. Only every upon his masters orders.
He stood watch, alone and easy to miss or forget about while he stood there, a single sentry while the others ducked beneath shelter. Rain matted and plastered dark hair to his face an next, the black robe he wore sticking to his long and thin body, while his wings shrugged off the wetness without stain for he hated his wings getting wet when he was certain he would need to fly again soon. It was getting late and many inside were already sleeping, few servants still awake to do their jobs at night and the few guards awake tiring before they would switch shifts at the appointed time. He was aware of every passive thought within the known world, though there would never be any within the Ridge and those in the human kingdom were doing little thinking of war at the time. He was unaware though, if his Master would call for him before morning, or if one of the other Seven would look for the eldest of them all, and the only one who would kill them if Alastor so ordered it.
Dark Lord's Castle
Heavy grey spread across the sky, bringing with it the sweet scent of fresh rain while it blotted out the man lights of the stars though the moon continued to shine through for the young man to see from where he stood upon the very tallest spire of his masters castle. He was the only one of any of the servants that could get this high off the ground without falling to Earth to make a terrible mess, and the only who could stand upon the single spike as he did now watching the sky and listening for anything he would not recognize. One foot raised slightly he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to spread further out, closer to the kingdom that now shared in the rain that was just arriving here beneath the mountains and beside the cliff. Jaquen was not far away, tormenting a human village not too far from the Church, a small group of the Undead Army he led with him to hold down the women and children as he slowly tore apart their lovers and brought them back to repeat the process on them. Zenith had never trusted this one, he was difficult to read and there was little that could cause the necromancer pain after the years of tormenting himself and the Legion to perfect the process. He worked with them, not for Alastor, as both the Dark Lord and the man who served him were completely aware that if Jaquen chose he could easily overthrow them and do it himself; but Jaquen needed a way in and only Zenith could provide that, because skeletons cannot fly and they have the intelligence to move and fight.
After this war was done he would have to kill Jaquen, he was perfectly aware of that and it did not bother him to know it; he cared not for anyone but his master.
Violet flickered into existence while the man blinked open his eyes to stare up at the darkening sky again, the first drops of rain finally falling upon his face though he did not move from the last he stood. Wings spread wide as the deep clouds, ink black against the pale darkness and difficult to see from far away. Zenith preferred dark wings and clothes, given his resurrection and his purpose now, light colours did not suit his way of current life. He looked passed the cloud cover while the heavy pattering upon the roof of the castle grew sdeadily louder, allowing his eyes to slip passed the dense covering to come out above the darkness where the moon and stars still cast an eary glow upon the sky. The rain would not last long, but there would be much more of it then there had been the last time, but rain slowed down human activity and if the humans were slow then they could act. Only every upon his masters orders.
He stood watch, alone and easy to miss or forget about while he stood there, a single sentry while the others ducked beneath shelter. Rain matted and plastered dark hair to his face an next, the black robe he wore sticking to his long and thin body, while his wings shrugged off the wetness without stain for he hated his wings getting wet when he was certain he would need to fly again soon. It was getting late and many inside were already sleeping, few servants still awake to do their jobs at night and the few guards awake tiring before they would switch shifts at the appointed time. He was aware of every passive thought within the known world, though there would never be any within the Ridge and those in the human kingdom were doing little thinking of war at the time. He was unaware though, if his Master would call for him before morning, or if one of the other Seven would look for the eldest of them all, and the only one who would kill them if Alastor so ordered it.
