sepulchre

Some says that Sepulchre was born from darkness.

Nobody really knows how he appeared. He just was here, like his presence was so obvious and natural, like the fact that dark covers the land after sun dies on the horizon.

Maybe that’s what he is. Forever bound and chained to the darkness.

Rumors say that the spiral travels only under the cover of night. He does not move fast, he keeps slow pace as he journeys to the unknown. He’s patient, he always finds time to take a break and watches the creatures of night. Owls are his personal favourite. Sometimes his gaze locks with the eyes of the animal as they talk in silence, understanding each other. These birds didn’t talk much and he appreciated it.

Besides, owls are symbols of mystery. So he was.

Sepulchre never talked about his origin, as he believed it would be too difficult for others to understand and keep up with his story. He was closed on himself, without any friends he could rely on. He was an model example of a loner, feeling no need of having a family or companions.

If someone somehow succeeded to make a conversation, Sepulchre felt more than awkward. His answers were short, consisting on simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. He spared all the details, leaving his listener in uncomfortable position as well. It was so obvious that Sepulchre didn’t want to talk - not because he was egoistic or unpleasant, but because he had no idea how to talk to others.

Darkness was all he had and it was more than enough. Each time it followed him - as a shadow during day, and as a omnipresent cover during night. On his travels after dusk, Sepulchre was becoming one with dark, blending in as it embraced him. Each time it was warm, welcoming, so he always accepted it with open heart.

Sepulchre was a nomad. He had no place to call home and he didn’t need one. He was perfectly fine on his forever journey, being able to take care of himself and defend in need. He was always carrying a weapon of his choice and upon giving a warning to his possible opponent - he never hesitated to slide the trident into someone’s throat. He would then take a short glance on dead body laying on the ground and leave, like nothing ever happened.

Did he have a destination? No, he was just travelling all around, wherever darkness leaded him. Did he have a purpose? Not really, he was just waiting for how fate decides about him.

Whatever he was going to face on his road, he was willing to take and accept it.
-by Pistrix