nothing more than a shell and ghost...

He felt the most comfortable skirting the girl's lands. Yes, 'the girl'. A thousand years could pass and he could never bring himself to call her 'mistress', even though she had broken him to bind him and in some twisted way had learned to love him the only way he could allow. So he called her 'girl', or 'Sethe' when he was feeling more than usual, and she seemed to accept it. She was happy with the knowledge that she owned him body and soul.
He wasn't sure exactly if he cared about the owning the way that he should. Web, angry but resigned, and Hellion, rebellious but needing and wanting at the same time. He shocked them, even angered them perhaps, with his indifference. "Does it mean so little to you?" Web had asked him once, skepticism in her ruby-wine eyes. He had shrugged. Maybe it did.
He smirked to himself as he slipped between the shadows of the knife-like trees, his hooves making sounds like gunshots against the hardpacked stone and dirt. Against the backdrops of monotone black and silver, he almost glowed with his lurid coloring. His eyes shined neon-fire in the eternal night; if anything, they made him look the antithesis of his name.
Anything but Lucid.
((wow, I am rusty...
