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05-20-2015, 03:22 AM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
Something had to be said for work: it took your mind off things. It filled the black, empty spaces in you up with something else—purpose—and even if it was a hollow comfort, it was better than the bone-deep, harrowing despair. It could so easily be taken away—all he needed was to lose his crown, and he'd be back where he'd come from.. a stray with a listless, restless heart, a spark with no fuel, a sword with no wielder.
But he forgot about all those things when he had something to do, something tangible, something worthwhile, something so achingly familiar—go to the Threshold. Pick up lost souls. Slowly rebuild from the ashes of your herd. Strengthen the bonds, strengthen the numbers, strengthen the souls and become what they had been before: a sort of unruly, deviant family. There had been strength there. There had been loyalty—
—his thankless mind flashes him snatches of conversations with Tolio, the man who had worshiped him, and how he lay dead and freezing in the ice corridors of the north—
—and some kind of desire to stay together—to fight for their home when the Dragonwhore came with her army. They had tried. They had tried so desperately but in the end, they had lost. But something, and not Mauja because Mauja had found himself spiraled away through time and space, had held them together, and they had found the Basin and that asshole God, and.. things had gone better for them, he figured. He had left them to roam, but they still held their home.
The ground began to gently slope upwards, tall and thick trees slowly conquering the horizon as the brittle and dying grasses of the Meadow gave way to bushes and the shorter grazing of a forest.
World's Edge.
A sight for sore eyes—a sight so achingly familiar, but a love he couldn't quite accept. Things were so different, and he was afraid of loving what had been and failing to understand that this wasn't a repetition of his past, but something new, the present, here and now, and things were different because even if it was a unicorn he led home.. the next time, it could be someone without a horn.
It chilled his soul. Change was terrifying, but change was life.
"Home," he said quietly to Tembovu, breaking the travel silence as he made his way down a worn path with ease. The day's thinner fog was thickening now that the sun was sinking towards a blood red horizon beyond the trees—too distant to be seen as more than a fiery orange blur above the barren crowns—and taking the warmth with it to its watery grave. Mauja's eyes flashed to his new-found brother for a moment, before—before that thing always happened. The translucent shimmer in the distance became close, and real, two owls flying overhead as he drew up next to the remnants of something sharp, something shattered and broken, tumbled to the ground and spread out, crumbled and crushed like so much else.
The ruins of the glass wall. Rain had whipped it and magic had sundered it, but it still ran like a fracture across the border. "This.. mess is our doorstep—a remnant of someone else's hypocrisy and narrow-minded ways. Be careful, though. Rain isn't strong enough to blunt its edges." Where they stood it lay in ruins, sprawling in the autumn grass but also remaining standing in large stretches, sharp-edged holes blown in it at intervals, easily allowing a horse to step over its broken foundation. And that was what Mauja did, leaving a few tail hairs snagged in some crack, before stopping and turning to watch Tembovu, hopefully, follow suit. The gap was more than wide enough to accommodate the thick stallion.
To think that Kahlua built this...
"You said you would welcome work. In what field?" Maybe it seemed abrupt—blunt, even, but there was kindness and curiosity in his tone, in his eyes, in his posture—proud head tall but tilted, black-rimmed ears swept eagerly forward. His gaze flickered down Tembovu's body, then back up again. Mauja would not make assumptions about anyone. ".. after all, a man's future need not be dictated by his scars."
[ welcoming for @[Tembovu], anyone welcome! ^^ ]
But he forgot about all those things when he had something to do, something tangible, something worthwhile, something so achingly familiar—go to the Threshold. Pick up lost souls. Slowly rebuild from the ashes of your herd. Strengthen the bonds, strengthen the numbers, strengthen the souls and become what they had been before: a sort of unruly, deviant family. There had been strength there. There had been loyalty—
—his thankless mind flashes him snatches of conversations with Tolio, the man who had worshiped him, and how he lay dead and freezing in the ice corridors of the north—
—and some kind of desire to stay together—to fight for their home when the Dragonwhore came with her army. They had tried. They had tried so desperately but in the end, they had lost. But something, and not Mauja because Mauja had found himself spiraled away through time and space, had held them together, and they had found the Basin and that asshole God, and.. things had gone better for them, he figured. He had left them to roam, but they still held their home.
The ground began to gently slope upwards, tall and thick trees slowly conquering the horizon as the brittle and dying grasses of the Meadow gave way to bushes and the shorter grazing of a forest.
World's Edge.
A sight for sore eyes—a sight so achingly familiar, but a love he couldn't quite accept. Things were so different, and he was afraid of loving what had been and failing to understand that this wasn't a repetition of his past, but something new, the present, here and now, and things were different because even if it was a unicorn he led home.. the next time, it could be someone without a horn.
It chilled his soul. Change was terrifying, but change was life.
"Home," he said quietly to Tembovu, breaking the travel silence as he made his way down a worn path with ease. The day's thinner fog was thickening now that the sun was sinking towards a blood red horizon beyond the trees—too distant to be seen as more than a fiery orange blur above the barren crowns—and taking the warmth with it to its watery grave. Mauja's eyes flashed to his new-found brother for a moment, before—before that thing always happened. The translucent shimmer in the distance became close, and real, two owls flying overhead as he drew up next to the remnants of something sharp, something shattered and broken, tumbled to the ground and spread out, crumbled and crushed like so much else.
The ruins of the glass wall. Rain had whipped it and magic had sundered it, but it still ran like a fracture across the border. "This.. mess is our doorstep—a remnant of someone else's hypocrisy and narrow-minded ways. Be careful, though. Rain isn't strong enough to blunt its edges." Where they stood it lay in ruins, sprawling in the autumn grass but also remaining standing in large stretches, sharp-edged holes blown in it at intervals, easily allowing a horse to step over its broken foundation. And that was what Mauja did, leaving a few tail hairs snagged in some crack, before stopping and turning to watch Tembovu, hopefully, follow suit. The gap was more than wide enough to accommodate the thick stallion.
To think that Kahlua built this...
"You said you would welcome work. In what field?" Maybe it seemed abrupt—blunt, even, but there was kindness and curiosity in his tone, in his eyes, in his posture—proud head tall but tilted, black-rimmed ears swept eagerly forward. His gaze flickered down Tembovu's body, then back up again. Mauja would not make assumptions about anyone. ".. after all, a man's future need not be dictated by his scars."
[ welcoming for @[Tembovu], anyone welcome! ^^ ]
