Information

Philip Blake
Legacy Name: Philip Blake

The

Bloodred Archan
Owner:

Sorceress

Age: 7 years, 3 months, 3 weeks

Born: December 30th, 2016

Adopted: 7 years, 3 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: December 30th, 2016

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

He had got what he wanted, the prison was all but destroyed- walkers were everywhere, the people were either gone or dead, the happy community they had built… Ruined. But was it what he wanted? As he lay, choking on his own blood and rasping for air, clutching at the open wound that the sword had left- puncturing straight through to his lungs, he felt nothing. No joy. No peace. No remorse or satisfaction. Nothing. He was hollow. His vendetta against Rick had served as nothing more than a fleeting distracting, giving him something to feel other than grief. Now it had come to a finish, now he had achieved what he had wanted (aside from killing both Rick and Michonne), Philip found no satisfaction. If anything, the 'Governor' had just brought himself more pain, more suffering, more remorse. His volatile actions had not brought back his beloved daughter, Penny, nor had they given any solace to the pain he carried. They had not eased his feelings of failure, nor soothed his ego. He had lost his new family, too, once again whilst his back was turned- whilst he was too busy indulging in matters that only truly concerned himself. He had made the same mistake so many times now, it had caused him so much pain when losing his wife- he had been too wrapped up in his own affairs to hear her voice, for what he did not know, would have been the last time. He had always wondered if him answering the phone could have saved her, if he could have prevented her death- just as he was now wondering if he could have saved his ‘adopted’ family. If he could have saved Penny.

He contemplated death as he laid there, the blood stain on his clothes growing- feeding the dying grass beneath his weakening body. What was the point? He hadn’t got what he wanted. Even if he had managed to kill both Rick and Michonne too, it wouldn’t have changed anything- it wouldn’t of brought anyone back. It just would have given him false comfort of being in temporary 'control', as had so many of his actions and the existence of Woodbury. It was at that moment he heard gunfire, a loud, deafening shot- complemented by a brisk wave of heat and a sharp scratching and finally followed by terrifying screams. Blood trickled from his cheek, a fresh cut had been made and it stung, horribly- yet its pain couldn’t compete with the pain he held inside of his own mind. Not even the stab wound could. He tilted his head back, using his one eye to gaze at the shambling corpses around him- thankfully they had been too distracted by the noises of the ongoing war to notice him, as he laid dying in the grass. It was at that moment he noticed where the gunfire and screams had come from, it was his latest lover, Lilly, and she had tried to shoot him- a mercy killing, no doubt. To put him out of his physical misery, given she had no idea who he really was- or what. She had missed, which would have been a blessing to those not contemplating their own existence, although in the process she had attracted the undead- whom now swarmed upon her in a rotting, ravenous mass. Philip, Brian, the Governor, stared on, feeling no sorrow for her as she fell victim to the swarm. He had burned his last remaining photo of his true family, in a bid to let go, so watching her die, knowing that her daughter, Meghan, had died too, was just another thing to let go of- or try to at least. He wanted to protect, but the truth was, he was far too consumed in his own biddings and past events to ever do so effectively. He had been lost in his thoughts, he was too far gone- he couldn’t come back and more importantly, he didn't want to. Her death was just another failure to his name, as was Rick and Michonne escaping. The truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. Revenge was just an easy way to cope- a good distraction and as Lilly got ripped apart in front of him, he slowly realised that, in his delirious and fading state. He smiled to himself, softly, giving in to the shallow breaths and giddy thoughts. Burning that photo had not freed him, it had just acted as a false sense of liberty. He knew that now. He knew that he wouldn’t ever be free.