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11-24-2014, 01:28 PM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
"Tolio," whispers the wraith, cold breath steaming into cold air.
There were only two sounds in the frozen corridor: the rustle of his hair, and the pulse throbbing in his ears. His breathing was quiet, almost too quiet, but the rhythmic clouds of white rising in front of his face betrayed him as still alive, and not a third corpse to join in the macabre display—for wasn't it so, that when his solitude was finally broken by a familiar face, it was one trapped in death's cold grasp? He had seen death before, had handed it out like some kind of god and felt its fingers tracing chills down his spine; he'd seen it and maybe he'd pretended not to care.. but no matter how hard he bit down and lied to himself—
he had always cared.
A third sound—a sigh—and then a fourth joined the first two, echoes ringing around the abandoned tunnel as he ambled closer. The perfect walls had been shattered, splinters, like of the lives laid out before him, arranged with a careless kind of perfection, simply laying where they had fallen. Ice was kin to him, and something in the depths of his mind snarled at the ruination of this sanctuary—but Tolio was kin also, and where ice would melt and reform, a heart that had gone out would not pick up its pace ever again.
He wasn't sure if he knew the mare. Frost and starlight had wrapped itself around her, as if to preserve her body and keep her perfect even in death—his blue eyes swept over her once, blinked as saline crystals froze around the rim of his gaze, and then settled on the chestnut. How long ago had it been? Too long answered the black and bitter voice in his heart. Too long ago, just like everything else. And now, he'd been too late. Too late to save someone who had worshiped him—someone he ought to have sheltered, protected, guided and helped. Absently he gazed at the grisly wounds and the fractured walls, wondering, thinking, musing, but what would ever come of what if's?
In the end, he just sighed again, two sets of talon resting comfortingly against his spine. And with another rustle of his long white tail, Mauja passed the dead couple and disappeared into the frigid darkness once more.
[ trolololol so rusty. ]
There were only two sounds in the frozen corridor: the rustle of his hair, and the pulse throbbing in his ears. His breathing was quiet, almost too quiet, but the rhythmic clouds of white rising in front of his face betrayed him as still alive, and not a third corpse to join in the macabre display—for wasn't it so, that when his solitude was finally broken by a familiar face, it was one trapped in death's cold grasp? He had seen death before, had handed it out like some kind of god and felt its fingers tracing chills down his spine; he'd seen it and maybe he'd pretended not to care.. but no matter how hard he bit down and lied to himself—
he had always cared.
A third sound—a sigh—and then a fourth joined the first two, echoes ringing around the abandoned tunnel as he ambled closer. The perfect walls had been shattered, splinters, like of the lives laid out before him, arranged with a careless kind of perfection, simply laying where they had fallen. Ice was kin to him, and something in the depths of his mind snarled at the ruination of this sanctuary—but Tolio was kin also, and where ice would melt and reform, a heart that had gone out would not pick up its pace ever again.
He wasn't sure if he knew the mare. Frost and starlight had wrapped itself around her, as if to preserve her body and keep her perfect even in death—his blue eyes swept over her once, blinked as saline crystals froze around the rim of his gaze, and then settled on the chestnut. How long ago had it been? Too long answered the black and bitter voice in his heart. Too long ago, just like everything else. And now, he'd been too late. Too late to save someone who had worshiped him—someone he ought to have sheltered, protected, guided and helped. Absently he gazed at the grisly wounds and the fractured walls, wondering, thinking, musing, but what would ever come of what if's?
In the end, he just sighed again, two sets of talon resting comfortingly against his spine. And with another rustle of his long white tail, Mauja passed the dead couple and disappeared into the frigid darkness once more.
[ trolololol so rusty. ]
