His eyes hardened into almost marble-hard gaze. Blue draining of that spark of life, just a solid, lifeless cerulean that shocked his followers, frightened the townspeople, even made the emperor cringe from time to time.
He was never meant to be a loved person. Sure, he had a mother and father, but his father was dead, mother long gone into the craziness of old age. He was left alone, as usual, and bred to be a maniac. It was in his blood anyway. Born alone, die alone. He spent his sanity seething over the true nature of his creation. Were his parents planning all along to make him into the mental freak he was? Or was it just a fluke. The blonde tossed his head to the side with a giggle. It didnt matter now. Born alone, Die alone. And thats how it was always going to be.
Kefka Palazzo. His name had no meaning. It simply brought chills to those who dared murmur the acursed named. He loved the feeling he got from frightening women and children. The way men's faces were painted with shock and horror at the mere syllabals that were uttered. He was Death himself. Leaving a trail of destruction and loss in his wake. What else was there to do. Why would anyone want to do anything else. It was better to bring those who were happy down to his level. The level of being pushed so far over the edge, that not even the most suicidal person on the planet would dare speak ill of the man, let alone look directly into his painted face. He was frightening. Those born alone, die alone.
He was...indeed handsome without the white makeup and red lining. His angular features complimented by sapphire eyes that would put any jewel to shame, hair the color of spun gold, a nose, that wasnt particularly small, but was well proportoned to his face, throat and broad shoulders, hidden by his ever present cloak. Kefka Palazzo. Would anyone be daring enough to challenge the man, and survive? There were bodies scattered outside of his tower, flies and other insect-like creatures consuming the rotting flesh and tearing away at the remains of those who 'assumed' they could stop the demi-god. He wasnt born a god, but sure enough, he accomplished the task of making himself into one. Two pairs of golden wings adorned his muscular back, which which were hidden beneath his cloak. But wings and power meant nothing. He was still alone. And would be until someone finally demolished him. Born alone. Die Alone. Simple as that.
He would wonder from time to time... if it was his destiny to be what he was. Or if destiny could be changed. Surely, as a younger man, he would have his way with the ladies. They appreciated his social-status, and his appearance, not to mention he was quite amusing, not to mention... different from what the norm was for the male sex on the entire bloody planet...But as he began to slowly lose his shreds of sanity, Kefka became distant, and the women distanced themselves further from the man-turned-monster. Or so the rumors said he had. Ah.. Kefka would die alone.
There is a price to pay for life. And a lesson to be learned by all. Sanity is taken for granted. One assumes they are 'born' with this mental capacity for tolerance and understanding, but little do they know what it is really like. Losing composure, screaming, crying, laughing and twitching uncontrollably. Sanity is taken for granted... because without sanity you will die alone.
And so will I.
~Kefka Palazzo, Esquire.~
He was never meant to be a loved person. Sure, he had a mother and father, but his father was dead, mother long gone into the craziness of old age. He was left alone, as usual, and bred to be a maniac. It was in his blood anyway. Born alone, die alone. He spent his sanity seething over the true nature of his creation. Were his parents planning all along to make him into the mental freak he was? Or was it just a fluke. The blonde tossed his head to the side with a giggle. It didnt matter now. Born alone, Die alone. And thats how it was always going to be.
Kefka Palazzo. His name had no meaning. It simply brought chills to those who dared murmur the acursed named. He loved the feeling he got from frightening women and children. The way men's faces were painted with shock and horror at the mere syllabals that were uttered. He was Death himself. Leaving a trail of destruction and loss in his wake. What else was there to do. Why would anyone want to do anything else. It was better to bring those who were happy down to his level. The level of being pushed so far over the edge, that not even the most suicidal person on the planet would dare speak ill of the man, let alone look directly into his painted face. He was frightening. Those born alone, die alone.
He was...indeed handsome without the white makeup and red lining. His angular features complimented by sapphire eyes that would put any jewel to shame, hair the color of spun gold, a nose, that wasnt particularly small, but was well proportoned to his face, throat and broad shoulders, hidden by his ever present cloak. Kefka Palazzo. Would anyone be daring enough to challenge the man, and survive? There were bodies scattered outside of his tower, flies and other insect-like creatures consuming the rotting flesh and tearing away at the remains of those who 'assumed' they could stop the demi-god. He wasnt born a god, but sure enough, he accomplished the task of making himself into one. Two pairs of golden wings adorned his muscular back, which which were hidden beneath his cloak. But wings and power meant nothing. He was still alone. And would be until someone finally demolished him. Born alone. Die Alone. Simple as that.
He would wonder from time to time... if it was his destiny to be what he was. Or if destiny could be changed. Surely, as a younger man, he would have his way with the ladies. They appreciated his social-status, and his appearance, not to mention he was quite amusing, not to mention... different from what the norm was for the male sex on the entire bloody planet...But as he began to slowly lose his shreds of sanity, Kefka became distant, and the women distanced themselves further from the man-turned-monster. Or so the rumors said he had. Ah.. Kefka would die alone.
There is a price to pay for life. And a lesson to be learned by all. Sanity is taken for granted. One assumes they are 'born' with this mental capacity for tolerance and understanding, but little do they know what it is really like. Losing composure, screaming, crying, laughing and twitching uncontrollably. Sanity is taken for granted... because without sanity you will die alone.
And so will I.
~Kefka Palazzo, Esquire.~