Underneath the shadow cast by worn hood, yellow eyes half lidded looked towards the bricks the body's feet walked upon. Stares of the various classes of the deglorified world looked to the daily passer by. Eyes either filled with fear or hate cut upon the uniform he wore, few in the crowds did not befall on him if they where of age to be decently knowledgeable. But he paid the eyes of raggedy peddlers, thieves, and peasants no mind. The walking nobody stood out greatly in the cloud thanks to his odd, black, dirt lacking hooded robe. The blue bangs that stuck out from under the hood also may have caused eyes to have been lured to him if not the simple appearance of his clothing. Most of the time, when the eyes where seen by most they were either in a form of anger or calmness. But now, as they did everyday, the eyes of a killer seemed harmless, wrapped in sorrow, his mind on other things besides goals of the organization that backed him. His back slightly hunched as he walked through the marketplace, gloved hands in pocket, adding to the wreaked look. The citizens had learned not to follow the appearance though, as they knew of many variations it held. Huffs of icey mists escaped from the shadowed face randomly from time to time as the body trudged on to it's private destination.
Axis's mind was plagued with the images of memories past once again. The one time tear ducts saw their one time of use had been the scene repeated over and over in his mind's theater, the body tired of the daily hell. He was tired of seeing the freezing of a heart. His heart. Each time the story restarted, he sighed, letting loose the visible, frosty air known to freeze or fatigue many. As it wiped past his face as he moved into it, the artificial air seemed like nothing more than comforting cool air. As it should, as it lacked the proper amplification. The nobody seemed saddened and tired of his mind's work. The eyes on his back where neglected still as he moved onto what seemed to be the ruins of the past of the town. He himself being part of the destructive force, now in two ways, recalled many memories of happiness and of deep sorrow. Of all powers active during the day, he seemed to be the only one feeling regret of the incident. Or feeling anything at all. But he knew such things where only creations of his mind anyways. He was also troubled by the face some aged eyes in the crowd still failed to recognized him as apart of the force that he had moved into, the same force that had brought chaos onto his own home... The ninth of the thirteen obviously still held a merciful, loving side, but that had seemed to frosted over with his first "freed" doing.
His boots kicked, and jumped inhumanly over at sometimes, debris that littered the once better shaped land. As he got farther and farther up the trail of destruction, the pieces strewn across the ground seemed to get bigger, going from simple pieces of buildings to whole knocked down ones and structures crumbled. Various craters and scorch marks became visible here too and the grass more dead or non existent as it was either covered up by trash or an unhealthy brown. No one dared followed the being that soon became a dot to their eye. Nearly all of them had heard of some form of what had either happened to those who had followed or talked to the mysterious man. Some remembered the favors and good he had done before his changed face came back from the unknown, simply respecting privacy rather than power. The battle scared land was looked past as if they where the worn citizens ignored earlier, golden eyes failing to look from their locked position on the changing ground as his legs seemed to work out of instinct or quick reaction to evade oncoming obstacles, as if he was simply skipping over messes in a kitchen. His view was not fully obstructed by his gloomy stance, but it could or might as well have been since the path had been burnt into his mind if not from his physical use and sight of it, but because of the knowledge of the days that brought fall to the former lands health were etched and re-etched into his mind, who at the moment seemed to have nothing better to think about. Of course imagery of it's better days could have been recalled, but were blocked now by the worn out ones still seeking a crippling torture of the nobody.
His eyes where soon lifted off of the ground and to a portal of swirling darkness in front of him. Not fearing his own creation, he stepped inside. Through the dark tunnel of darkness he entered he felt it's cool embrace. Soon on the end of the path of black was a whole of his destination's scenery. Once again he felt the warmth of light and the crushing of stone under his foot. Instead of being ground level though, the hooded nobody stood ever the battlefield, looking down the sort of landmark he'd created. From the top of a wrecked, now lopsided tower, the Tacit Crusader looked down to his other half of sorts. He straightened up his figure, but kept his hands in pocket and face concealed loosing depression and replacing the nonexistent emotion with an act of silent anger. His eyebrows creased to turn eyes of sadness into those of fury or hatred. The sudden demeanor shift was also daily, was nothing out of the norm. All he would do now was look upon the floating, diamond shaped crystal surrounded by it's nova of icey tundra spikes and wreaked constructions until he was called upon or his memories subsided. The face of the beauty trapped inside the chain locked structure still haunted his mind without the sight of her face. The icey chains that wrapped around the floating crystal and tied it to the ground thankfully hid the actual thing from his sight, only portions of the body could even possibly be seen if looked closely upon. Axis sighed again, releasing more of his inner colds mist. He always hated his oddest and longest lasting piece of art.
