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02-22-2016, 08:02 AM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
"No."
The cold voice curled out from dark lips, white breath pooling like a threat of violence in the midst of devastation. Everything was all wrong—
And they wanted to make it even more wrong. They wanted to destroy things even further. They painted this world in black and fucking stark white, rifts like prison bar patterns sundering his view. Every edge, every contrast, stood out starkly; every movement burning in his brain, demanding reprimand, retribution—vengeance.
He barely even knew who was here, despite having met most of them before. There was Glacia, weeping next to Rhoa, who screamed in denial about healers, and Rhoa's brother being useful, and Ilios, and some mare he had never seen before. Her long, blue hair covered the living child, the one who struggled to stand, the one who was not fed because his mother was in shambles—
Because his brother was dead—
And it took a mammoth effort of control to not scream like a banshee and impale everyone on ice spikes.
But his rage was silent—his fury a blue blaze in his eyes.
And with the confidence of gods he strode out from the surrounding forest, shadow and ice come to claim what was his—what was theirs, this obscure family spanning leagues and differences. And there were two things here, which should not be here. There were two strangers. There were two useless bags of meat soaking up the sorrow.
Mercilessly, Mauja attempted to shoulder Ahvelyn aside, to take over her place as guardian of the newly born child. "Get the fuck away from my grandson," he told her harshly, voice as frigid as his eyes; they narrowed as they glared down at her from his icy heights. "Now." And his lips curled back to bare the faintest hint of teeth.
[ @Ilios ]
The cold voice curled out from dark lips, white breath pooling like a threat of violence in the midst of devastation. Everything was all wrong—
And they wanted to make it even more wrong. They wanted to destroy things even further. They painted this world in black and fucking stark white, rifts like prison bar patterns sundering his view. Every edge, every contrast, stood out starkly; every movement burning in his brain, demanding reprimand, retribution—vengeance.
He barely even knew who was here, despite having met most of them before. There was Glacia, weeping next to Rhoa, who screamed in denial about healers, and Rhoa's brother being useful, and Ilios, and some mare he had never seen before. Her long, blue hair covered the living child, the one who struggled to stand, the one who was not fed because his mother was in shambles—
Because his brother was dead—
And it took a mammoth effort of control to not scream like a banshee and impale everyone on ice spikes.
But his rage was silent—his fury a blue blaze in his eyes.
And with the confidence of gods he strode out from the surrounding forest, shadow and ice come to claim what was his—what was theirs, this obscure family spanning leagues and differences. And there were two things here, which should not be here. There were two strangers. There were two useless bags of meat soaking up the sorrow.
Mercilessly, Mauja attempted to shoulder Ahvelyn aside, to take over her place as guardian of the newly born child. "Get the fuck away from my grandson," he told her harshly, voice as frigid as his eyes; they narrowed as they glared down at her from his icy heights. "Now." And his lips curled back to bare the faintest hint of teeth.
[ @Ilios ]
