.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-01-2016, 11:05 AM
like breaking diamonds with your hands
(And still, and silent, we remain.)
Like the glassy surface of a lake—
But sooner or later, even lakes ripple. The ground shakes. The mountain crumbles. A glacier melting into the hungry depths of the sea.
Mauja sighed—slowly, softly, an exhalation of all things tense and foul-tasting, one that seemed to go on forever as the heavy air left his lungs in a trickle. Anger was nothing but poison; anger made the blood run light and the veins sing, but in its wake was nothing but tar, burnt bridges and regret.
Black-rimmed ears angled backwards, but his head fell; bowed, to the lake's surface. He didn't touch it. He simply listened as he watched, mind running beneath the stream of words. Not believing in any kind of justification (because no one had a right to anything) was...
He didn't have words for it. Always striving for the logical path, curbing anger, curbing regret, curbing vengeance, curbing hatred and prejudice and his own desires—until there was nothing left.
Perhaps it wasn't so simple, the truth he had preached for years and years, saying to himself and whoever happened to listen to his darker moments I don't exist; perhaps the whole of the truth was that once, in the womb of his mother and the frosty air of his homeland, he had existed, but had since eradicated himself. Become nothing but a knight of ice, a heart of darkness, a frost revenant who acknowledges nothing gray. A world in black and white.
Tembovu's involvement with Elsa somehow did not come as a surprise—and strangely enough, sparked nothing in the void of his chest. No errant sparks flew to create fires born from jealously or hurt, a feeling of being left out; he was dead inside as he studied his reflection. Watched the fire go out in his eyes, replaced by ashes.
Drab and dreary and gray. Sterile.
(His eyes close.)
Should he be irritated that Tembovu chose a safe partner as Queen, or praise him for recognizing his faults? Was there beauty in a choice which served both herd and himself, or was it selfish?
Which came first, the hen or the egg?
“Mauja. Your thoughts?”
The silken black muzzle, (sinful in all it had caused), touched his shoulder. Softly. Cautiously? Mauja's eyes cracked open, his heart in shambles now that the bomb had gone off in utter silence—no reverberations through his bones, no echoes, no screams, but devastation all the same as he stared at the lake and tried to put back together the pieces of glass heart.
He didn't want this burden. He didn't want to guide those who felt so much more than he did—those both blessed and cursed to be alive. Not mortal, but alive, part of this world; feeling, thinking, bleeding, breathing, dreaming. Those who had a future in their hearts and minds, those who chased adventure and their hopes; not those who stood in front of a gray wasteland with no compass.
"I think you can be a great Queen," he finally said, voice soft, and his head turned to cast one blue eye upon both of them. He couldn't quite keep the sadness out of it. "But as Queen, you have to make sacrifices. You become more than the sum of yourself—you cannot act without thought of consequences. Everything you do will ripple. The good for the herd will come before your own desires and hopes and dreams. Ultimately, you have to give parts of yourself up, to be able to guide the herd well." One ear fell back; he wasn't sure he had given much of himself up to be a leader, but that was for the simple reason that there hadn't really been anything to give up. He was, after all, nothing but a driven chameleon, filling the chalice within with whatever brew seemed necessary. His pale eye slid in its socket, focusing on Tembovu. "What I did to you on the sand was not right; what I had just been through is an explanation but no excuse. Given all that we give up as regents, all that we face from within and outside, you could've asked her in private rather than thrust it upon her like this." And even as he gently chided his friend, his voice was soft, and his eyes sad.
[ @Alysanne @Tembovu ]
Like the glassy surface of a lake—
But sooner or later, even lakes ripple. The ground shakes. The mountain crumbles. A glacier melting into the hungry depths of the sea.
Mauja sighed—slowly, softly, an exhalation of all things tense and foul-tasting, one that seemed to go on forever as the heavy air left his lungs in a trickle. Anger was nothing but poison; anger made the blood run light and the veins sing, but in its wake was nothing but tar, burnt bridges and regret.
Black-rimmed ears angled backwards, but his head fell; bowed, to the lake's surface. He didn't touch it. He simply listened as he watched, mind running beneath the stream of words. Not believing in any kind of justification (because no one had a right to anything) was...
He didn't have words for it. Always striving for the logical path, curbing anger, curbing regret, curbing vengeance, curbing hatred and prejudice and his own desires—until there was nothing left.
Perhaps it wasn't so simple, the truth he had preached for years and years, saying to himself and whoever happened to listen to his darker moments I don't exist; perhaps the whole of the truth was that once, in the womb of his mother and the frosty air of his homeland, he had existed, but had since eradicated himself. Become nothing but a knight of ice, a heart of darkness, a frost revenant who acknowledges nothing gray. A world in black and white.
Tembovu's involvement with Elsa somehow did not come as a surprise—and strangely enough, sparked nothing in the void of his chest. No errant sparks flew to create fires born from jealously or hurt, a feeling of being left out; he was dead inside as he studied his reflection. Watched the fire go out in his eyes, replaced by ashes.
Drab and dreary and gray. Sterile.
(His eyes close.)
Should he be irritated that Tembovu chose a safe partner as Queen, or praise him for recognizing his faults? Was there beauty in a choice which served both herd and himself, or was it selfish?
Which came first, the hen or the egg?
“Mauja. Your thoughts?”
The silken black muzzle, (
He didn't want this burden. He didn't want to guide those who felt so much more than he did—those both blessed and cursed to be alive. Not mortal, but alive, part of this world; feeling, thinking, bleeding, breathing, dreaming. Those who had a future in their hearts and minds, those who chased adventure and their hopes; not those who stood in front of a gray wasteland with no compass.
"I think you can be a great Queen," he finally said, voice soft, and his head turned to cast one blue eye upon both of them. He couldn't quite keep the sadness out of it. "But as Queen, you have to make sacrifices. You become more than the sum of yourself—you cannot act without thought of consequences. Everything you do will ripple. The good for the herd will come before your own desires and hopes and dreams. Ultimately, you have to give parts of yourself up, to be able to guide the herd well." One ear fell back; he wasn't sure he had given much of himself up to be a leader, but that was for the simple reason that there hadn't really been anything to give up. He was, after all, nothing but a driven chameleon, filling the chalice within with whatever brew seemed necessary. His pale eye slid in its socket, focusing on Tembovu. "What I did to you on the sand was not right; what I had just been through is an explanation but no excuse. Given all that we give up as regents, all that we face from within and outside, you could've asked her in private rather than thrust it upon her like this." And even as he gently chided his friend, his voice was soft, and his eyes sad.
[ @Alysanne @Tembovu ]
