but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

så du står i givakt med din rygg rak
och tar 400 slag

Fuck this shit—

Couldn't they just go away? Ignore the flaming birds that had lit up the darkness and crowded the lingering snow, and thus ignore the white beast revealed in their wake? He hadn't even aimed it at them, they had just—well, been in the way. The anger had crept out the cracks in his armor, blazed a highway of light straight into his wounded soul, and led them to his door. His ears fell back against his neck, his entire, silent face screaming fuck off.

Just go away.

Just leave me alone.

Just forget about this.

Fire was demanding. It scorched the inside of his soul, of his mind, left him tired and ragged in the aftermath of its harsh anger—it burnt him up, left him spent.

If his anger had been its fuel there was none of that left now.

As Lace bent his knee the blazing light in Mauja's eyes went out, replaced by something surly and dull, and the hunger that had lurked just behind his teeth replaced by the taste of bile. Fuck off, he wanted to snarl at the fool bowing to him, but no words left his tired mouth.

He didn't even flinch at the fire-orb.

Was this the beginning of the end? Of Mirage's hounds trickling back in?

Was he obliged to accept them? Did he owe them anything? Why shouldn't he just kick everyone out and be the lonesome Mad King of the Edge? If any army came, he would hound them and haunt them and pester them and somehow prevail, alone in his fortress realm of fog and forest and glass and ice.

He would burn them and he would impale them and leave their corpses rotting on his spikes as a warning to others.

"Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, too quiet for them to hear. "Fuck all of you."

No matter how strong his heart, no matter how great his will, no matter how lethal his weapons—Helovia would find him, chain him, and defeat him. Eventually, he would have to sleep. Unguarded. Alone.

An uncharacteristic snarl tore itself out of his mouth as he stalked across the distance separating them, something edgy and feral replacing the usual grace of his movements. He wished he had some way to skate around the sun orb, to not stand so close to the fucking thing, but Lace had put it where he wanted and EVERYTHING BE FUCKING DAMNED BEFORE HE GAVE THAT FOOL SOME SATISFACTION.

So he stood in its glare, sweat darkening his hide, and stared down at the smaller stallion with cold ire in his gaze.

"Get the fucking stick out of your ass," he growled, voice rough like gravel.

You'll wear me out if I have to go around hating you.

[ @Lace ]

man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same