Meshenna
WHY ARE YOU SO FULL OF RAGE ?
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The hot Mesopotamian sun beat down on his pale honeyed skin as he sat bare-chested on the grass mat outside the thatch hut that meshenna currently called home. A small child with dark hair and hazel eyes climbed on his lap, her little fingers reaching out to touch his ashen hair that was so different from her own. He smiled at her, grabbing her by the waist and tossing her in the air, grinning as she squealed in delight.
His body held the lean tautness of youth, though he was not young by human standards. The lustful eyes of many villagers often watched him, but he was used to it. Humans were drawn to him—at least, at first—until his differences became too noticeable. He'd been forced to leave many villages in the past when he didn't age like everyone else and the villagers became alarmed. He liked to be around them, though, to feel their emotions and passions. Especially the children, who were more accepting of him and whose emotions were simple and less corruptible.
It soothed him somehow.
There was a shadow of darkness within him that he felt wary of, though he didn't fully understand it, but being with children gave him peace. So he was willing to stay in the villages, helping with the day-to-day struggle for existence that mortals faced, even if he didn't really belong. He didn't like to be alone.
He had the sense that he was... waiting. He wasn't exactly sure what he was waiting for, but he knew somehow that he was. For now, he had found companionship. The family that had taken him in needed another strong back to help hunt and tend the fields.
Eyes looked up at the sky. The sun was at its zenith. It was time for him to make his way to the hunting grounds to check the traps. Meshenna smiled, putting the child down despite her pouting protest at the end of their game. The little girl handed him a small crown she'd woven of daisies. He grinned, leaning forward to let her place it on his head before he stood, grabbing his pack and hunting knife. He slung them over his bare shoulder, the sunlight highlighting the play of smooth, tan skin over his torso, creating a golden halo as it shone through the locks of his hair as he walked away. The coarsely woven pants rode low on his hips, held up by a simple rope belt. He didn't need fancy clothes to draw the eyes of the maidens in the village. He smiled at them, but kept walking.
The traps he had set had yielded enough food for the next few days. He set back towards the village where the eldest daughter would clean and prepare the meat. He saw the plumes of smoke before he was even halfway to the village. The rope he'd used to carry the game fell from his slack hands. In the back of his mind, he already knew what he would find. It would not be the first village to suffer such a fate.
He could feel the residual impression of the bloodlust, terror, and hatred that hung heavily in the air, thicker than the rising smoke. His feet carried him forward, his body tensing more and more as he approached what had marked the edge of the village.
There was nothing left.
The huts were still burning, the smell of blood and charred flesh was heavy in the summer heat. He walked slowly towards the hut of the family that had taken him in when he'd first arrived in the village.
All that was left was a smoldering pile of ash. And bones.
They had been burned alive as they hid in their hut, hoping for safety. He searched through the remains, finding the mother, father and three older children. He felt his chest twist as he dug through the hot ash, searching for one more. The little girl's body was not amongst the rubble. A sliver of hope flared inside him. Could she have escaped? Maybe he could find her, take her with him to the next village, find a new family to take her...
He called to her, but there was no response. He walked slowly through the ruins, searching, but there was no sign of life. Had she run away? Maybe she had hidden in the woods-
He had stopped in his tracks, frozen in horror.
Slowly, his fingers curled in, one by one, until they formed a tight fist. A strange energy filled his body, unlike anything he'd felt before. As though the small shadow of darkness within him had suddenly broken free. It grew, twisting and amplifying. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. Anguish and rage flooded through him. A need for battle. A need for destruction unlike anything he'd felt before. A spear. Thrust deep in the ground.
He felt a change in his blood. A heat and power he'd never felt before seemed to awaken. His mind tried to close off, shutting out the horror of what was before him.
The point, sticking up. Aiming at the sky.
A cutting wind began to blow. A swirling, red-tinged blast that kicked up the dust and ash, blowing it wildly.
The tiny body, pierced through, hanging limply from the point of the spear.
He let out a growl which slowly built into an anguished roar.
The sound of hoofbeats reached his ears and he turned slowly, watching in controlled stillness as the approaching horde returned. He noticed another plume of smoke coming from the distance behind the riders. Another village they'd razed. Now they were headed home... to receive payment for their services.
He spread his feet wider apart, bracing them into the blood-soaked earth. Unbeknownst to meshenna, his eyes — once icy blue — now glowed red. The riders had caught sight of him. The band of fifty horses turned, bearing down to wipe out the sole survivor of the village they'd raided only hours before. He could see the blood lust in their eyes.
No. Not see. He could FEEL it. It pulsed within him, starting off slow, then gradually building, weaving with the strange, dark energy within him. It beat stronger than his heart, seeming to draw strength from the very air around him. He unclenched his fists, throwing his hands open, pushing the anger and horror from his mind into theirs, feeling a coil of something dark and destructive spread through his body.
He opened his mind and unleashed hell.
The screams of the men and their beasts became lost in the swirl of the ravaging wind, but he felt them anyway. Horses reared and trampled their masters in their frenzy to get away. In the midst of it all, the man noticed a darker force that seemed to join with his, almost opposite in nature. It was still, where his was wild. Cold, where his was burning. But somehow, they twined together.
And together, they were unstoppable.
When the dust had settled, there was nothing left but the tattered remains of the bandits.
He had fallen to his knees, his breath coming in gasps. All the bandits were dead, but... there was... something... SOMEONE... with him.
Slowly, he stood, trying to understand what he was sensing.
He turned to look behind him.
There, a dark-haired boy rode upon a pale horse. His skin was almost luminescent in its paleness, with high cheekbones and perfectly arched brows creating a face with a depth of beauty that was not quite human. But more than his looks, it was the overwhelming presence the man had that signaled he was not like the frail mortals that he had spent his life with up until this point. There was no doubt that the darker power that he had felt blending with his own came from this man. He could still feel the tendrils of it whispering through him, brushing against his own... amplifying it.
While a wild wind still blew over the bodies of the dead, the air around the figure on the horse was still — almost frozen —thick with some unseen force.
He felt his eyes drawn to the endless blackness of the other's. Their gazes locked. He took a step closer, drawn to what he could see in those depths. Their powers were different. In some ways, even opposite. But he knew, somehow, that this boy was like him.
They were the same. The dark eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise appearing before being suppressed. He looked at him, tilting his head to one side.
"You're like me," he said at last, the words carrying a tone of wonderment. He'd thought there were no others like him... that he'd always be alone as the humans around him aged or were killed, leaving him behind. Something about this boy... pulled at him. He looked directly into the dark eyes, feeling their power. It resonated with his own.
He belonged here, with this being. He knew it with a certainty that was buried deep in his bones. It was as though the male had been waiting all this time for him to show up.
The dark-haired boy smirked. "So it would seem. I was told to find you here.""Told?" He asked, feeling slightly dazed as he looked around as though expecting to find someone else with them.
Rather than answering the implied question, the boy pulled on a set of reins that he hadn't seen him holding and a red-brown horse stepped forward. "Mount up. We're riding to a larger village to the north where these bandits came from."
He turned, looking over the village he had called home for the past three years. The hut he had lived in. The body of the little girl he had watched grow. "First I'm going to bury them."
The boy followed his gaze, his face showing no emotions. After a moment, he dismounted, tethering their horses to the remains of a building. "Fine. We'll bury your humans. Then we ride."
There was no sympathy in the voice, but there was no mockery, either. He smiled at the boy. "I'm Meshenna (meaning : chaos / war ) . Who are you?"
The boy looked at him for a moment, then replied. "Death ."
BURN !
inked by ,, moon . 21