Judas Anderson slowly walked the shore of the lake, staring at it as memories flashed behind his cold eyes and within his dark mind.
A girl, whose hair smelled of kindness, her soft caress and lips against his, all rubbish, taunts from a past he had long discarded, a past that was irrelevant.
Every bit of soil here seemed to trigger memories, all over the academy, and he despised the memories, things of the past he could no longer have or grasp, he wished they would leave completely instead of staying in tantalyzingly fragmented little bits.
He bent over, removing his black glove to reveal the metal prosthetic that was his right hand.
It was shaped like a normal hand, though made of hard, cold black metal, it was quite ingeniusly jointed and almost as flexible and quick as a hand of flesh, and in the center of his palm was a red sensor whose use only he knew.
Slowly moving to a spot in the shore, he traced a large cross into the ground, remembering his lost memories.
A girl, whose hair smelled of kindness, her soft caress and lips against his, all rubbish, taunts from a past he had long discarded, a past that was irrelevant.
Every bit of soil here seemed to trigger memories, all over the academy, and he despised the memories, things of the past he could no longer have or grasp, he wished they would leave completely instead of staying in tantalyzingly fragmented little bits.
He bent over, removing his black glove to reveal the metal prosthetic that was his right hand.
It was shaped like a normal hand, though made of hard, cold black metal, it was quite ingeniusly jointed and almost as flexible and quick as a hand of flesh, and in the center of his palm was a red sensor whose use only he knew.
Slowly moving to a spot in the shore, he traced a large cross into the ground, remembering his lost memories.