of recoil and grace

[OPEN] of recoil and grace

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598

Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE

Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

12-29-2016, 09:29 PM (This post was last modified: 12-29-2016, 09:37 PM by Thranduil.)

They were happy. Which was a rare gift of the gods. But they were truly happy. Haldir sauntered from the heights, through the thick pines, trying his best for as long as he could to avoid the rain. But it couldn’t damper his spirits. He was home, his first home, the Basin, and the golden was away tucked into his Lady’s cavern. His bonded’s connection thrumming with contented happiness. So rare. So beautiful. And the stag was more than well aware he should enjoy this morning stroll, no matter how gloomy, for it always seemed the world hated these moments to last.

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”Thranduil….” It comes across phased, and shaken. For the first time the gold reaches beyond himself to his bonded, but what he feels sends ice through his veins. ”Where.” It wasn’t a question. ”Lake.” He looks to the rosen damsel, one hark lingering back, but it’s the only sign he gives. “I’m going for a drink love, I’ll be back.” He lets it sound as normal as possible, let her linger in the peace that was ignorance a little longer. The golden then quickly grabbed his wolven cloak slips into the morning rain.

The scene was still quiet and lonely as the Laurelin came upon the lakeside. His earth eyes found Haldir, the dark stag standing as a sentry a ways off. His moon eyes found the gold. Even from this distance, the gold could see his bonded….shaking. His soaked crowned head turned back to the lakeside, where a darkness lay that even the golden did not want to face. Yet it was like a body laying upon death’s metal table, draped over with innocence, the Laurelin was drawn. It was so impossible. So not real…it had to be a mistake….Yet as he steps closer, the hand gripping the white cloth, he sees the familiar shape…and his stomach starts to knot.

Damn him. The crowned head shook, sending the water soaked treads scattering. Damn him. This day…this day was not meant for grief….with last night it should…it should be- but the breath catches in his throat. He had seen the Reaper…at the tree….he had seen him. Thought of speaking to him…as a friend….but said nothing. The jaw line of the gold trembles. Damn him. Breath halts in the gold’s chest and emotions and pressures, and sicknesses rise up which hadn’t risen in years. Death was a part of life. Death was and always has been a part of this life in Helovia. The murders. The battles. Midas.- All of them. And it was accepted as natural. It was supposed to happen, it made sense, but this…..Death was not supposed to die. The last creature expected to fall to its hand is the Reaper. The one always cloaked in its dark whispers and threats. He had seemed invincible to its siren songs.

The gold stopped beside the fallen, with the dark prince on the other side, sobbing. There last encounter had been full of gilded tongues and taunts, perhaps even the gold owed the youth a fair punch, but he couldn’t remember any more. He couldn’t remember anything else anymore….

Why did he morn for this fallen darkness? Why did he feel the weight of death as he hadn’t before for the one who so often he found on the other side of the war zone? …Why did he morn for the one who always gave lectures…or advice, rather than the powers so clearly at his fingertips? Why did he morn the one so often he laughed with at the judging looks? Why did he morn the stallion who’s approval, signaled in just the barest dip of the head, made his pride vault? Why did he morn the Lord who so clearly showed him, power did not fit the gold? Why morn the one who looked out for the gold when the world should have torn him to shreds? Why did he morn the creature who was ever a watchful shadow…ever the Basin’s other Wolven Lord? Because he was the Laurelin’s friend when he had none. And he’d never even known it.

Rain still fell with its great weight onto the golden’s head, running down his face and soaking every muscle. But he was glad. Perhaps it hid the tremors of grief and the very real tears of true loss.

“I’m…” sorry. But he can’t finish it. Slowly, with the disconnected motions of disbelief, the Laurelin reached to his chest. When he head comes back around, it drags from his back the hallow skin pelt of the wolf. For a moment, it hangs there, gripped in his teeth. His bare back now shivering with each cold drop. From afar, Haldir’s head rises, his antlered head twisting, confused with the disbelief of this action. Even the gold as he looked at the fallen figure, he hesitated. Deimos never asked for shelter. Never sought for the trappings such as the gold. Thranduil knew him well enough to know offering him such things in life would have been…wrong. For Deimos never sought those things, he gave them.

Well now, it was time it was given back. And the world remember what the Reaper had done. Had stood for. With the greatest of care, one so foreign to the gold, the Laurelin laid the pelt along the back of the fallen creature. His dark nose, tucking it and shifting it till it lay just so. Harks turned back as he paused. “He fought them…” His voice trembled, but maybe the lulling rain would smooth it out. “That day, when these wolves attacked, he led the charge.” Earth eyes finally lift from the lifeless body, to the one beside it. The one who also grieved. “Ever the Lord and Protector.” What the gold couldn’t be…but what the Raeper was, even to those, like the gold, who did not deserve it. How young the dark prince had been….how many years ago….Earth eyes fall back, their gold sparks dead. “Ever the Wolf of the North.” And my friend. The gold stepped back, and bowed his head. To the side, the dark stag keeping watch lifted his antlered head, and the mournful bellows rolled across the vale. Piercing the dim morning and lifting up the sorrows to the rain.

He had been frustrated to see the rain this morning. The night having been so wondrous. But now… the gold was glad for the rain, it washed away his tears.

OOC:: I'm going to go cry now....

@Deimos
@Hotaru - In my head this was after their morning chat?? If that works? But she's welcome to follow him.

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