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[Tarothin Armunn]

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As he has done so for many days since... "returning", he had watched himself regenerate over and over again as he made puncture wounds on his palms with his claws. Curiously intent on the droplets of blood hitting the desk surface only then to close his clawed hands tightly once again.

How many times has he done this he thought. Always contemplating if this is real.

What if it is? This one time. What if they had found a way to return him out of that...that plane of existance...

It could still be the wraiths with a new scenerio yet to have played out in a new dream... he mumbled to himself.

The look of shock on Ditto's face earlier was nothing new to what he experienced in the dreams except... except this one feeling of something odd...

It seemed real yet...he could feel the presense of the wariths in the distance...

He could always feel the wraiths to a degree around him somewhere. But instead of the feeling being all over... it was distinct locations outside the keep... moving, yet staying close.

He almost had the notion that they were staring at him from a far. Almost as seeking guidance... He quickly burned with hatred knowing that the only guidance he wished to show them was death by his claws. And yet he had promised to give this time a chance.

They had left me alone... the wraiths didn't attack... and he only felt the presense of them in the distant shadows and not within those that he spoke to or saw...

Do they purposely give themselves away? Do they play a strange and different game with me?

I do not feel the pain of them trying to kill me. I do not feel the constant pain I endured for so many years... constanly having my flesh ripped away only to be replaced by new as if there was a constant battle of survival between the deamon and that plane.

Always questions... I want to believe... Just this once...

As he sinks his claws yet again deep into his palms only to retract them watching the flesh grow back.

Yet, this is the only tint of pain I feel. That which I cause myself.

He shook his head as if awakening himself from a daze only to stare at the chess board. He had days earlier, reset the game and made one move. Only this time he was the defender. Still unsure what to do in this existance. He was not sure who the attacker was... or if he even had a game to play.

Are there any games left in this soul? He chuckled at himself before dazing off again thinking... hating... one thought in his mind: If this is indeed real... I will show them what true suffering and hatred is...

[Ditto Armunn]

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Wait.
It was deeper than instinct. There was No want. No feeling. It was a need deep within itself.

It knew not why, nor did it care. It cared for nothing. Nothing but the hatred for that which blinded it's world of shadow with living color.
Yesterday. Tomorrow. Those did not exist. There was only Now.

It was to this one to Lure. To do in shadow what she once did in life. A life she now had no memory of.

She remained close to the hunter now. Drawn here to meander amongst the treeline close to the stone structure. They waited. The days turning into weeks, they waited. Much activity. Too much color. But still.....they waited. Each in their own way. The same, yet different.
Each of them, a Shadow Wraith.



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