Long luxurious locks, floating in the wind
wild guard with the masked face, eyes of sharp obsidian
and salient sword
It is a thing of cruel beauty, of glinting silver and a handle  the colour of starless midnight
It drips, an offering of crimson to the starving Earth
"Drink" he whispers lovingly "How is it that we left you to your crippling hunger?"
Thunder crackles in approval as Earth is appeased and he rumbles with laughter, electrified by lightning
and rain falls quenching its arid surface
A smile graces his face and light his wild eyes of molten obsidian
He walks, away from the bodies that fed Earth, their blood soiling his boots
back into the darkness that feeds the monsters and nightmares