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08-23-2014, 02:22 PM
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TORLEIK
Long is the winter of a man's soul The smell wasn't that of the death Torleik knew. This smell was putrid and wet, like an infected pustule oozing from beneath the skin eliciting a very distinct kind of nausea. But it was something he could handle, for those around him. For Ophelia. He did not know Ktulu other than what her sister had told him of her, but he respected her. She was cherished by Ophelia and Torleik knew that if he cared for the pale sister at all, he would make sure he gave both daughters of Paladin what they needed. Gaze locked on the malformed body on the ground, his skin felt as though electric ants were crawling just beneath the surface, pooling in the sensitive parts of him: the tips of his ears, his gut and loins, his tail. What did he do? The worst death he'd faced, he'd run from, powerless to do anything about it. Torleik had seen gore, seen horses ripped apart, their guts spilled all over the ground, faces half-missing, destroyed by horns or hooves or vicious predators. This was somehow worse, to have this body that was recognizable but still...wrong. He felt Ophelia's head rest on his neck and he leaned into her, curling around to embrace her with care. Ktulu had approached the body, her words drifting to them, and his stomach utterly plummeted. Mother. This was their mother. Gods, why, his thoughts raced. Who would do this?? Why? Her body was just...left here to rot, in the middle of the Deep Forest. Where no one might ever find it. The acidic, sour taste of bile swam in the back of his senses. This looked like murder, a murder that the perpetrator had committed and fled from. And that made it so much worse. "Ophelia I'm...so sorry..." he rumbled softly into one of her velvety ears, embracing her more tightly. Torleik knew what it was to lose family, but he was grateful Phi had not had to watch her mother die, to see her in her last moments and realize her utter inability to change the course of fate. This moment was kind in that way, if only that singular aspect. The dark sister was being the strong one, the rabicano saw that. It was noble of her but he also knew how much it must be draining her inside. Torleik couldn't let her take that burden alone, not when she was hurting just as much as Ophelia. He was the only one who had no direct tie to this slain mare - Soleil, if he remembered Phi correctly - and he could bear their burdens for them. As much as they might allow, at least. Ktulu wanted fire, and though he could not give it to her, Irelyn could. "Irelyn can, in a fashion," he returned. "I will help you build the pyre." Torleik instinctively knew what Ktulu desired with the flames; they were both warriors. This was the best way to honor the fallen, to cleanse their body of any of the foulness in this world and confer their purified spirit into the afterlife. "Stay with Ophelia," he verbally instructed his owl-griffin, who immediately nuzzled her head more into the white mare's mane. "I will return," was his quiet murmur to Phi as he gently moved from her to gather fallen sticks and brush on the forest floor. The viking knew Ktulu would do the same to build a makeshift pyre for their fallen mother. While her bondmate worked, the small owl-griffin clung to this pretty white mare, able to sense acutely how much she was hurting. Purring more forcefully to try to sooth her, Irelyn wasn't sure what to do to help. She could not talk to this one, not like she could talk to Torleik, and she hooted softly, sadly. He cared for her very much, and though the tiny creature thought caring for another white mare was rather foolish, she rather liked Ophelia - and Tinek, of course. Torleik was hurting because this one was hurting, and Irelyn didn't like that. When the pyre was completed, and the flowers he'd also gathered lain on Soleil's fallen form, the stallion quietly walked back to Phi, resuming his position as a bolster for her both physically and emotionally. "Irelyn, go stand by the sticks." "What? By the...dead one?" Her shock and discomfort were palpable. "Yes. You need to do this. We need to do this, for them. I will tell you when to light it on fire. Now go," he urged, and the owl-griffin gently removed herself from Ophelia's back to comply, looking back expectantly at her bonded. He gazed at Ktulu for the signal to ignite the pyre and begin the funeral. @[Ophelia] @[Ktulu] "talk talk talk" "Mental talking" Thoughts |
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No man is an island.
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Pixel by: Tamme :D
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