Rhyme

 

Relocating from the wilds of Sionayra was interesting.  His new Bonded urged him to choose a place that called to him, that could feel like home.  All the others who'd bonded and lived here, though, had chosen very appropriate places for homes. Homes that suited them well.

 

As one of the Shadows Altar, many perhaps would think he'd choose a cave.  A deep forest perhaps. A canyon or an island, maybe, somewhere secluded. Somewhere to hide, to blend in.  But no.  His darkness was internal, but there was no blending in to shadows for him using his coat.

 

Being bright red and white kind of put an end to that very quickly.  No.  He had no need for shadows to disguise him, if he so desired.  All he needed was his own skill, and he could make anyone believe whatever he wanted them to believe.

 

He smirked to himself once again, thinking of it.  What was truth, really? There were so many truths held so firmly by so, so many.  And yet.  Those truths... sometimes weren't as undisputable as they might claim.  Sometimes the truth was something clung to simply because it's what they wanted to believe.  Sometimes the truth was a lie told for ulterior purposes.  Those that loathed themselves believed ugly truths, clutching their bitterness for dear life. Cunning artists twisted and distorted the truth every day.

 

Rhyme was one such. He could weave a truth so beautiful and enticing... or so ugly it tormented.  There was plenty of grey area to play with as well, which was always fun.

 

He could spin such tales for himself, even he almost believed them. He, who was so practiced at his art of  Deception that he knew the lines oh so well.  Even when the lines were so well crafted they weren't supposed to exist.