Feb. 20th, 2011 10:52 pm
elloran: ([open])
The world burns. Madness takes some Inquestors like this, but of all the people it could have afflicted, Elloran was the last anyone would have expected. So his people flee, terrified of their mad leader, knowing that there will be no safe haven for them. Elloran is their God, if he wishes their death, they will die, whether it by his hand or another. The burning palace is deserted, and the Inquestor wanders the halls alone.

He laughs as another wing of his palace ignites, sculptures and paintings melting into dust, wall scrolls burning and crystal shattering all around him. When he speaks, it is with an amused indulgence, and his yellow eyes reflect the dancing flames.

"I was reading of ancient Earth's Rome recently. There is something satisfying about fiddling while watching destruction, is there not? Beauty in the face of madness. But what is the real art? A bar of song that will be forgotten in a hundred years? Or the instant destruction caused by a single spark?

Why fight for something that will be forgotten? Why create when destruction is so much simpler? We humans are simple creatures, enjoying glory and blood, chaos and triumph. Should we deny our nature, simply to fight inevitable entropy?

I think not.

No. Give them a spectacle and they will love me, no matter how many worlds I devive, no matter how many lives I end. Karakael is right, compassion is for the weak. One cannot become great if one is shackled by worldly ties - whether they be of love or guilt, money or art. Power is the only constant in the universe. Power and destruction."
elloran: (Default)
Strange. One would have thought I would be used to the new wonders they create for my enjoyment. Certainly one should be able to see beauty and art in everything - especially something a great craftsman has made. And after two hundred years in the Inquest, one would think I could no longer be disturbed by anything.

Yet this new fog-form is disquieting. I rather dislike the shade of yellow.

I shall ask Sajit to find something more pleasant for me to see. Something less...odd. Still. How silly of me to be afraid of something so meaningless!


elloran: (Default)

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