when the fir needles fall // return

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[color=#151B54]JERISIDIE
" i am the god-damn king !! "

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it had been considerable time since he had fled the pitt in an attempt to help his adopted daughter escape the grip of stryker and his, for lack of better word, mate, ninazu. now, he had decided upon hearing his eldest's decision to join this group in hope of chasing a friendship that had given them hope, he had decided to return himself. he had naught but his children in this life, all of his multiple partners were dead or missing.

this time, this move was for himself, to face some demons from the ancient past that were coming back to kill him. for he was the first general of hell, the second king, and the founder of the lingre lineage. he had many children of his own, and he now had grandchildren to welcome to the world and into the family. perhaps, here, he could find something to bide his time with as he waited for time to catch up to him.

as he drifted through his thoughts, the white hellhound padded along the edge of the forest, back towards the blood red river that he remembered spending time at, his golden eyes narrowing as he rolled his shoulders. he wore a mask over his face completely, in the shape of a skull. it hid the extreme damage done to his face when he was reborn in this canid body.

settling at the border, where the battle scarred male could see the guards, he waited. he smelt of rot, his injuries long past healing and mainly covered by flowers to mask the scent, and the most impressive had to be his leg, a work of complete nature, where vines took over his leg and attached a moveable wooden prosthetic covered in blooms and greens.

he must have drifted off, because he was thrust into memories, memories so painful that he had no wish to remember them. they were memories of when he came to this world, after his first rebirth, and after his beloved had murdered him to stop the madness within him from growing. the cries of a child fall on bleeding ears, tears soaking an ancient face, aching and craving rest, the light pulling wearily at the gladiator's limbs, forcing him upon his feet to march once more, uncertain of the future he will face, nor is he certain if he will find the god that had saved him. shouldering his sword, the demon king would readjust his crown of crimson, smoke floating about his figure as daisies sprouted about his feet. taking in a deep breath he would step into the pool of black water still as glass, the galaxies parting to shove him back into the times of war and heartache he had left behind. he was tired, so tired. yet he must carry on, and return, to live again, and again, and again. he only wanted the rest of a thousand years, with his beloved at his side one last time, embracing the god of kindness before his mother's abominations found them and ripped them apart once more in this time.

shaking his weary body, the man let his eye rest on the water, his only golden orb staring at the bloody water in accusation for the memories of his times in the heavens separated from the man that he had loved with his whole being, the one that had been ripped away from him. those memories were from a long time ago, where he had been in his human shape, before he had come here, perhaps. he was one so old that the memories that he thought he knew, loved to trick him and torture his mind.

pulling his head up, the hellhound leased a howl, one that his children would know. an unspoken statement that he was back and he was here to stay.