OhJames/HimWhatWaits

Him What Waits

Death by Age

To mortals who stumble upon his tomb, he appears as a dried and shrivelled corpse, his eyes put out and his tongue ripped from his mouth, curled into a fetal position and lying in a pool of tears. The Dragon Kings see a member of their breed, with tarnished scales and dulled claws, his head snapped backward because his spine is too weak to support the weight of his skull. The haughty Fair Folk see nothing, just wisps of tired gossamer that skitter and sigh at the edge of their perception. The Mountain Folk see a statue, it's features worn away to anonymity, but for the warped mouth that yawns open like the Well that rests below the portico outside. The Alchemicals see a rusted, twisted mockery of their own forms, every Essence capacitor broken and every focusing lens shattered, while dull oil drips from a million tiny imperfections.

In his nightmares, Him What Waits occasionally has almost-lucid memories of his long slide into obsolescence. Of being cornered by the treacherous Exalted while his souls withered away and he slowly slipped beneath the world, his titanic consciousness fading into the dementia of an old age that should never have come to his immortal frame. He is probably more insane than his fellows, if they still care, because his insanity extended into the last days of his life, and therefore, he is more dangerous. His nightmares twist the Labyrinth in ways even more unexpected than normal, drowning travelers in grave dust, saline, and the ash of the crematorium. Those nephwracks who dedicate themselves to him dress in tattered gray rags and carry begging bowls made of old bones. They strip themselves of their strength, allowing the ghostly flesh of their bodies to wither to the point of uselessness. Or sometimes, they casually annihilate their minds until all that is left is a willing body controlled by some demented thing that should never have existed. When the time comes, they travel to the edge of the Well of the Void, to strip away every single strength they have left, before pitching themselves into Oblivion.

This pleases Him What Waits, for he feels the sympathy of this acts and it eases his pain infinitesimally. He is only marginally self-aware.