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05-07-2014, 12:58 PM
en natt så kall och månen den var klar
And just like that, the tables turned again.
Her voice grew venomous, her eyes darker, and Mauja's turned flat in turn, as cold and unyielding as the northern glaciers. His ears fell back into the mess of his mane. This was why he shouldn't have followed, because now, any sort of good ending seemed way out of reach—and why? What had triggered her diabolical change?
He understood soon enough. She must've read something in his slight signs of restlessness, assumed his staring at the distant horizon meant he considered leaving.. never mind the fact that he had considered taking off just moments earlier; did he really wear everything upon his skin these days? Of course, whispered that irksome voice in his mind. Of course he did. He'd forgotten how to be Mauja the snow-soft ages ago, because instead of smiling with cool amusement, he used anger as a shield. It throbbed in him, uncomfortably hot, demanding he be the one to bite first so she would never find his weaknesses.
"I think you should stay some more... Mauja. Already tired of conversing with an old subject?" Her tail was lashing, her tongue stinging, but he had long ago filled his share of her heartful rants and raves, and found that he did not care. His face fell into a cold mask of dislike, darkening even the pale shades of his eyes. "You were like this, you fucker," he hissed, throwing his head up as her tail came flying. At least there were no hooves to back it up. "Except... sluttier." His lips curled into a sneer, the cold fire burning in his gaze—they were too similar, now that he thought of it.
Deranged. Unpredictable. The other one lay dead. And he'd keep attacking and attacking, because it was the only way of he knew to protect himself from this kind of witchery.
He refused to be threatened by her. He refused to be scared of her. What could she tell Helovia, after all? That he was mad? Not surprising. Depressed? If they weren't inclined to believe her, they'd think she was lying, or if they did believe her—so what? And what meaning could it possibly have that he'd gone back through time to fetch Irma? What else had he said?
He'd just have to take what he'd told her, and make it his, shout it to the skies of Helovia so it would hold no weight against him.
"Think I'm scared of you repeating something I've said?" His voice was cold. "Think again. And cut the damn victim crap, and take a step back and look at yourself instead of blaming me! You destroyed your family more than I did, because you were not strong enough to stand up to me! Is that somehow my fault?" Each time his voice rose slightly, it dropped back just as quickly, full only of his heartbeat and cold anger. He was outright tired of her fits, of her blaming him, instead of solving the problem why she still could. He'd not heard of more than maybe a single, half-hearted attempt to get her mate back, and how much had they been watching him in the end? Barely at all? His dark nostrils widened in warning.
Make all the coffin nails hit home. Too deep to ever be pulled out.
"I lied to you and abused you, and you know what? There was no reason. There was no plan, it was just me and Psyche having a bit of fun—I made you destroy your family on nothing more but a whim! And I kept doing it, because I could. And you let me." His harsh voice rang through the space between them, tinted with all the blackness of his soul; in the fading light he stood in all his frigid glory, pale and unreachable, untouchable, the ferocity of his awakened soul blazing out through his eyes.
His heart kept hammering, his lungs kept heaving, somehow, he kept breathing. His ears stayed flat against his neck.
"I'm going," he declared after a second of silence, tail lashing one against his hocks—and he turned half away, before pausing, and looking over his shoulder.
Was this who he was? Who he had always been? An angry, frigid titan, who did what he wanted to others—because he could? This heartless, cruel man?
Something in his eyes softened for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Delinne. I cannot help you."
Then, he turned away again, to leave.
Her voice grew venomous, her eyes darker, and Mauja's turned flat in turn, as cold and unyielding as the northern glaciers. His ears fell back into the mess of his mane. This was why he shouldn't have followed, because now, any sort of good ending seemed way out of reach—and why? What had triggered her diabolical change?
He understood soon enough. She must've read something in his slight signs of restlessness, assumed his staring at the distant horizon meant he considered leaving.. never mind the fact that he had considered taking off just moments earlier; did he really wear everything upon his skin these days? Of course, whispered that irksome voice in his mind. Of course he did. He'd forgotten how to be Mauja the snow-soft ages ago, because instead of smiling with cool amusement, he used anger as a shield. It throbbed in him, uncomfortably hot, demanding he be the one to bite first so she would never find his weaknesses.
"I think you should stay some more... Mauja. Already tired of conversing with an old subject?" Her tail was lashing, her tongue stinging, but he had long ago filled his share of her heartful rants and raves, and found that he did not care. His face fell into a cold mask of dislike, darkening even the pale shades of his eyes. "You were like this, you fucker," he hissed, throwing his head up as her tail came flying. At least there were no hooves to back it up. "Except... sluttier." His lips curled into a sneer, the cold fire burning in his gaze—they were too similar, now that he thought of it.
Deranged. Unpredictable. The other one lay dead. And he'd keep attacking and attacking, because it was the only way of he knew to protect himself from this kind of witchery.
He refused to be threatened by her. He refused to be scared of her. What could she tell Helovia, after all? That he was mad? Not surprising. Depressed? If they weren't inclined to believe her, they'd think she was lying, or if they did believe her—so what? And what meaning could it possibly have that he'd gone back through time to fetch Irma? What else had he said?
He'd just have to take what he'd told her, and make it his, shout it to the skies of Helovia so it would hold no weight against him.
"Think I'm scared of you repeating something I've said?" His voice was cold. "Think again. And cut the damn victim crap, and take a step back and look at yourself instead of blaming me! You destroyed your family more than I did, because you were not strong enough to stand up to me! Is that somehow my fault?" Each time his voice rose slightly, it dropped back just as quickly, full only of his heartbeat and cold anger. He was outright tired of her fits, of her blaming him, instead of solving the problem why she still could. He'd not heard of more than maybe a single, half-hearted attempt to get her mate back, and how much had they been watching him in the end? Barely at all? His dark nostrils widened in warning.
Make all the coffin nails hit home. Too deep to ever be pulled out.
"I lied to you and abused you, and you know what? There was no reason. There was no plan, it was just me and Psyche having a bit of fun—I made you destroy your family on nothing more but a whim! And I kept doing it, because I could. And you let me." His harsh voice rang through the space between them, tinted with all the blackness of his soul; in the fading light he stood in all his frigid glory, pale and unreachable, untouchable, the ferocity of his awakened soul blazing out through his eyes.
His heart kept hammering, his lungs kept heaving, somehow, he kept breathing. His ears stayed flat against his neck.
"I'm going," he declared after a second of silence, tail lashing one against his hocks—and he turned half away, before pausing, and looking over his shoulder.
Was this who he was? Who he had always been? An angry, frigid titan, who did what he wanted to others—because he could? This heartless, cruel man?
Something in his eyes softened for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Delinne. I cannot help you."
Then, he turned away again, to leave.
Se dem brinna över verkan se dem dansa framför bål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål
