<div class="floatleft">(https://66.media.tumblr.com/97b57f60d56d842e3d1df85b70fe905e/tumblr_pq0mv4gBXa1v7qsymo1_540.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Adán Carmesí (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=303102.msg14805159#msg14805159)<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Everyone<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gaia, ????<br/><strong>?Wearing:</strong>As pictured, golden rings<br/><strong>?Mood:</strong>Deflated, pensive,<br/><hr/><br/>As distressing (even vexing,) as the developments may be, Adán found the burden of the shackles oddly comforting.   They brought back memories of another time,  a great time.  His nostrils flared en route to his sentencing; for a moment he swore that he smelled the sulfurous smoke of an agitated volcano and the dried blood of past warriors.  For a moment life -- or, perhaps his death sentence -- was good.<br/><br/>Unlike some of his kind, Adán was no stranger to thoughts of his own undoing.  Perhaps it came with being revered by a people as a God of birth and death.   Perhaps it had something to do with those same people being near-literally wiped off the face of Gaia, most of their treasures turned to crumbling,  decaying stone in the wake.  The only true slight in the process was the separation of him from his tecpatl, which had not left his side since its' very creation.  For a God who had no need for decency,  he felt naked without it.<br/><br/>So Adán came wrapped in the fine linens and merino wool of a suit that had come to symbolize his previous iterations of a death shroud.   There were others there,  surprising others.   He recognized some,  but none looked like the type he would conspire with.   None he had conspired with.<br/><br/>Banishment was an unexpected fate,  one worse than not existing.   It spat in the face of the cycle, it felt like an unnatural prolonging.  He fought against it,  raged,  wishing to be struck down over cast out.   Ultimately it did no good, and instead he fell.<br/><br/>And so came to be the sight of a multi-racial-seeming man falling through the sky among his peers,  this one dressed for some evening gala.   Fearing the pain from collision was beyond him,  his curses to his banishers were uttered and lost on the wind.  Still, his tan lips continued flapping obscenity until the wind velocity choked and silenced him.<br/><br/>He fell and<em>was</em>, instead of was no more.<br/><br/>Adán sighed low and languid,  looking around.   He saw his fellows, split between believing that they were criminals or simple victims of a colonial-style power grab.  There was the wolf seeming to quarrel with whom would seem was a political puppet only now learning his low place.   There was the strangely happy runner... the one who embraced water... and, finally,  the red- headed girl he had heard of, and that some had ascribed him affinity with.<br/><br/>So much passion.  Adán signed,  struggling to find the spark that alit many around him.  He found nothing, sinking back into the sands,  dark hair being stained by the dirty particles.   "You all make peculiar crypt-mates," he finally mused for any to hear.<br/><br/>"Given that the one most likely to know whether there is a road home is your target,  wolf,  perhaps you should delay that fight."  Home.  It was a funny word, one Adán couldn't help but chuckle using.  His home always felt like a time rather than a place, and that time had past quite long ago.  Still, if he had any home at all, it was with his tecpatl, which was now presumebly being soiled by the hands of the ignorant.