#2: November 21st, 2006
Characters: Ozorne Tasikhe
Title: Missing
Ozorne misses many things. He misses being able to eat things that actually taste good (Fear tastes strange. Like an exotic fruit. Only less enjoyable. It includes the blood and sweat that leaked of the people who felt it. And occasionally even less pleasant things. An amateur could pick out the fear of the single person who threw up. Now that taste is bitter)
He misses being emperor. As a stormwing, he can't order anyone around, much less order anyone dead.
He misses his mute slaves. Here, everyone gabs.
He misses gold. He misses his eyeliners and face paints. He misses being able to hide behind the mask of the polite ruler. So instead he hides behind the mask of the impolite stormwing of vengeance.
He misses his legs. It takes him aeons to learn to fly properly. The currents cannot support the steel feathers with ease, and it takes him great physical effort to get high enough to coast. Physical effort! As if he had ever needed that in his earlier life.
Ozorne misses human females. He misses the softness of human flesh. He misses the warmth that comes from every human. Steel is cold, too cold.
What he misses most is regret, sorrow, and all the other icky human feelings. He can hardly feel them now. Vengeance, yes. Vengeance he feels in abundance. But try as he might, he just can't regret turning on Ar- Numair all those years ago.
Actually, the only thing he does not miss is a mirror. Pools, sure, but with pools, he can at least lead himself to think that it was a pulled apart reflection, not the real thing. He has a sneaking suspicion that he would feel more like a turkey of vengeance than like a stormwing if he saw his own reflection
