Kain watched Raziel stumble through a land alien in its vitality, unlocking the secrets of his destiny. Raziel would have to walk the path himself, but could never know that he was not alone.
Whenever demons leapt upon him, chased him into the spectral realm, Kain felt an icy fear that this time he would not return. Every time he ran into a group of hunters, Kain had to stop himself from leaping in, to fight by his side as they had in centuries past. In centuries still to come. How he wished he could live through them once again.
I thought inktober just meant draw something with ink and honestly i just wanted to draw my blue pissbaby son and my tablet is fucked. So have an awkwardly inked Raziel.
Janos had tried not to think of Raziel as his latest rescue case, he really had, but after a few months the impression was firmly cemented in his mind.
For the first few weeks the poor thing would start at shadows, and on those few occasions that he gave into sleep he always woke up screaming after barely an hour.
It wasn’t unusual to find him curled up on a chair with some of the other strays, nor for him to immediately cuddle up to Janos when he sat down to read.
*opening cinematic details how raziel suffered for a millennium in agony* SHUT UP YOU BIG BABY UGH
i should probably try to draw kain or vorador sometime. god i am plunging directly into vampire hell once more it’s like it’s 2003 or whenever the hell this last happened to me
Raziel’s claws scraped against the rough stone floor as he scrabbled desperately to keep from falling. Images of the turbulent Lake of the Dead rose unbidden and terror flooded his mind. The waters below were calm and lifeless, yet still held the promise of death.
He screamed as he hit the surface, the water tearing at his flesh, stripping him of it too swiftly for pain to follow.
Raziel didn’t hear the Elder God’s words in his mind or see the world warp around him. He was five centuries in the past, Kain’s final damning words echoing in his ears.
This is a Blog 2.0 