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03-08-2016, 03:40 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-08-2016, 03:53 PM by Tembovu.
Edit Reason: word count
)
The soft, silken feathers of Irma’s back splay around his ash-stained face, a downy comfort amid the roaring flames. Cobalt eyes stare, watching the healers work on Mauja from afar. They seemed calm— the bright one even left, taking her burning fox with her. So the incinerated form of Mauja must be healing, slowly knitting flesh beneath the charred, cracked skin. There was no panicked looks, no uncertain glances. There was only calm, persistent healing occurring in the eerily lit clearing. Glassy eyes reflect the inferno the licked up the trunk behind the Doctors, cracking and splitting the living wood as it sluggishly plumed smoke.
He felt the ice in his chest. The only burn he felt was was lingered on his skin from the magma-splatter and the white-hot anguish on his soul from what he had done. The quiet words of Naerys slipped into his scalded ears, pushing a painful pulse through pain-deflated veins. His heart shuddered against her gentle voice, and suddenly he needed to take his dangerous demons away; far, far away. Until he was less raw, more controlled. Despite not feeling the trumpeting beast in his breast, he did not trust this fearful control. He did not trust himself.
“He shouldn’t have been here,” was his quiet, broken rumble, as much to himself as to those before him, “I should not be here.” And, with a soft stroke and nudge to the owl that leaned against his muzzle (another, tactile apology, for he could never say enough sorries), he faded into the smoky murk of the trees.
He felt the ice in his chest. The only burn he felt was was lingered on his skin from the magma-splatter and the white-hot anguish on his soul from what he had done. The quiet words of Naerys slipped into his scalded ears, pushing a painful pulse through pain-deflated veins. His heart shuddered against her gentle voice, and suddenly he needed to take his dangerous demons away; far, far away. Until he was less raw, more controlled. Despite not feeling the trumpeting beast in his breast, he did not trust this fearful control. He did not trust himself.
“He shouldn’t have been here,” was his quiet, broken rumble, as much to himself as to those before him, “I should not be here.” And, with a soft stroke and nudge to the owl that leaned against his muzzle (another, tactile apology, for he could never say enough sorries), he faded into the smoky murk of the trees.
Tembovu
the Elephant King
Tembo needed some closure from this thread <3 Thanks you all! He's gone to go fine Mbwene, now!
Please tag Tembovu.
