» Tue Feb 25, 2014 10:55 pm Character of Skyrim: Remlius
Sort of a backstory thing.
White Blood Omen
He watched his father move through the room, muttering to himself as he always did. The basemant was a dark and foreboding place, though that didn't bother him as much. The only being he knew as mother, and through his father's mad research may in fact be his mother, was the reanimated corpse rotting in the corner. She did every command his father asked, despite her flesh hanging and many parts of her were missing. Though his father was trying to remedy that by the looks of it, as beautiful woman lay dead on stone beds. He swung his legs back and forth on the wooden chair watching his father. His father was an older man, with gray hair, and his skin hung as loosely as the corpse.
"Blessed for the obsessed, for their path is clear," his father whispered to himself as he passed him by.
He knew not to disturb his father when he was working, then again though he was always working. Sometimes it depended on his fathers mood. He was a mad as the god that he worshipped, though that didn't mean he didn't admire him or love him any less.
"Watch you working on?" he asked.
His father stopped and he was afraid he had caught his father in a bad mood. His father seemed to swoop quickly towards him, staring at him with vacant eyes that grasp the gaze of everything in this world. Moving back and forth, up and down. His large nose like that of the witches in the tales told by towns folk.
"What have I told you?" his father hissed.
"Not to disturb you when you're working, I'm sorry," he replied.
Though he was not apologizing because he was truly sorry, but more for common courtsey. His father put his large hands through his blond hair and ruffled. He leaned the boy close into his chest.
"I'm working on something for your mother," his father finally responded.
"Can I help?" he asked.
"Oh my dear boy Remlius, how will you help?" his father asked.
He smiled and wrapped his arms around his father in a tight hug.
"I can get more pretty ladies," Rem replied.
His father chuckled and let him go, his father pulled back from him. Leaving Rem extending his arms still, though he quickly fixed his posture and watched his father.
"Yes clever child! Clever clever child!" his father cheered.
His father moved quickly to his working desk and grabbed something pointing it at Rem. A scalpeling knife. For what? Rem cocked his head to the side curiously.
"I was thinking," his father began, "Your mother will need new eyes. I had been searching and searching and searching for the perfect eyes. And the perfect eyes are right in front of me this whole entire time."
"Not mine, I hope," Rem replied cautiously.
"Oh no no silly boy, silly boy," his father said moving back towards his seating chair and putting the knife close to his eye, "They would not do my boy. Father loves you to much for that. I need that wench from the tavern. She loves you so much."
He felt the blade dig into his skin. It was very cold and felt odd, a foreign invader in his cheek. It hurt, but he would not show any sign of weakness. His father pulled the knife out and blood ran down his cheek.
"Go tell her, that I have gone mad. Mad and tried to kill you," his father whispered in his ear.
