Post by Matt Donovan on Dec 29, 2012 15:26:25 GMT 1
The streets and buildings went past in a blur as Matt's long stride propelled him through the city at a dawdling pace for him yet that it would have taken a human sprinter to keep up with. He wasn't looking at where he was going or where he had been, his thoughts were entirely wrapped up with what he had done. The angel had gone rogue, he had tortured his twin and Matt had killed him for it; not just death as humans experienced it, but the utter and eternal annihilation of the very essence of him. Now Matt was having a moment of existential crisis.
Ploughing mindlessly onward, he cut an odd figure even by New Vegas standards. Matt stood nearly nine feet tall, though he wasn't simply tall; his proportions were unnaturally perfect and his motions graceful in a manner that defied logic. He was walking barefoot, barely touching and seeming not to notice the ground beneath his feet. He was dressed in a simple pair of jogging pants and granddad-shirt each as dark as his short fur soft hair. His eyes were the pale luminous blue of heaven's light and he was silently crying.
Never had Matt experienced such rage as when he had confronted the fallen sephiroth; rage was reserved for demons and even then, Matt was not made for the rage of battle. He had begun to wonder if there was not more of his latent human nature left to him than he had previously believed. His anger had held a very human quality to it and Matt had yet to decide if that was a good or a bad thing. His mind's eye kept focusing on that smug smile and mocking laugh... and his eyes.
Matt had never seen eyes like that before. The pale blue eyes of an angel but though they were bright there had been a shadow behind them. Was that how it began? Was that how one fell? Or did it begin with giving in to ones rage? Matt shuddered softly, resisting for a moment the temptation to pause and view his reflection in the glass of a window but then quickly giving in. He stood peering hard at his dark reflected image, filled with doubts and oblivious to the rest of the world...
Ploughing mindlessly onward, he cut an odd figure even by New Vegas standards. Matt stood nearly nine feet tall, though he wasn't simply tall; his proportions were unnaturally perfect and his motions graceful in a manner that defied logic. He was walking barefoot, barely touching and seeming not to notice the ground beneath his feet. He was dressed in a simple pair of jogging pants and granddad-shirt each as dark as his short fur soft hair. His eyes were the pale luminous blue of heaven's light and he was silently crying.
Never had Matt experienced such rage as when he had confronted the fallen sephiroth; rage was reserved for demons and even then, Matt was not made for the rage of battle. He had begun to wonder if there was not more of his latent human nature left to him than he had previously believed. His anger had held a very human quality to it and Matt had yet to decide if that was a good or a bad thing. His mind's eye kept focusing on that smug smile and mocking laugh... and his eyes.
Matt had never seen eyes like that before. The pale blue eyes of an angel but though they were bright there had been a shadow behind them. Was that how it began? Was that how one fell? Or did it begin with giving in to ones rage? Matt shuddered softly, resisting for a moment the temptation to pause and view his reflection in the glass of a window but then quickly giving in. He stood peering hard at his dark reflected image, filled with doubts and oblivious to the rest of the world...
