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i am the vanguard of your destruction
He's too far gone tonight.
The wind roared and the skies were falling, careless; he was soaked to the bone, chilled to the core, the wind flaying all the warmth from his aching muscles. And nowhere in this gale could he hear the voice of his brother, his thunder directing where it would go and where it would not, his anger whipping the world into a mayhem—this storm was pure fury and wilderness, with no master, and driving the proud, broken Ice King to his knees.
Through the blur of his tears he saw a shape—a white shape, the blue magma pulsing slowly along her contours, coloring her nearly lavender, but the night sapped every other shade from her. A white, dainty shape, up by the altars.
How cruel the world is.
The moment he saw her, the moment his heart skipped a thousand beats and came aflame with the impossibilities, he knew that it was not Ophelia, and the heart that had so briefly roared into life cracked. That small moment of hope, that small moment of something fierce and aching, was enough to break him; reality's punch in the gut too hard for him to take and remain standing.
He lost his footing again, banging his already bleeding knee on the slippery rocks, but instead of fight his way back up again, he realized he had no desire to stand up, and keep on walking.
For the first time since he'd lain broken in the snow Mauja gave up.
His hindquarters crashed onto the narrow land bridge, the wind snatching away her hesitant greeting and swallowing it in the din and roar of the ocean; cold, hard rain fell like needles on his right side, upturned eye reflecting nothing but the emptiness of the sky, and the emptiness he felt within. The rhythmic booming of the ocean was soothing, because he was past the point of fear, the salty spray barely noticeable through the heavy rain.
It almost seemed a mercy if the seas would rise and sweep him away.
[ @[Ayelet] ]
The wind roared and the skies were falling, careless; he was soaked to the bone, chilled to the core, the wind flaying all the warmth from his aching muscles. And nowhere in this gale could he hear the voice of his brother, his thunder directing where it would go and where it would not, his anger whipping the world into a mayhem—this storm was pure fury and wilderness, with no master, and driving the proud, broken Ice King to his knees.
Through the blur of his tears he saw a shape—a white shape, the blue magma pulsing slowly along her contours, coloring her nearly lavender, but the night sapped every other shade from her. A white, dainty shape, up by the altars.
How cruel the world is.
The moment he saw her, the moment his heart skipped a thousand beats and came aflame with the impossibilities, he knew that it was not Ophelia, and the heart that had so briefly roared into life cracked. That small moment of hope, that small moment of something fierce and aching, was enough to break him; reality's punch in the gut too hard for him to take and remain standing.
He lost his footing again, banging his already bleeding knee on the slippery rocks, but instead of fight his way back up again, he realized he had no desire to stand up, and keep on walking.
For the first time since he'd lain broken in the snow Mauja gave up.
His hindquarters crashed onto the narrow land bridge, the wind snatching away her hesitant greeting and swallowing it in the din and roar of the ocean; cold, hard rain fell like needles on his right side, upturned eye reflecting nothing but the emptiness of the sky, and the emptiness he felt within. The rhythmic booming of the ocean was soothing, because he was past the point of fear, the salty spray barely noticeable through the heavy rain.
It almost seemed a mercy if the seas would rise and sweep him away.
[ @[Ayelet] ]
