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08-10-2014, 03:17 PM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
It was the death of a star.
He had not seen Paladin rise, had not seen his bloodied past and the sterling sword of equality he raised in the torn land of Isilme—Mauja's first words written within that black book were spattered with blood, a heart hardened to iron, his snowflake path mingling with the ferocious virtue of a warlord in his prime. Paladin had been there, at the Edge, his stalwart belief in Mauja's evil driving him to lend the aid of his herd to Mirage's pack of lying dogs. He had seen him then, emblazoned in the glory of a warmaster: not so old that his body could not handle a war, but old enough to have survived much. And learned much.
Then he had seen him as his arc began to shift towards the earth, a comet with his flaming red-and-white tail heading down the inevitable path into decay—the road they all would take, some day. Graying muzzle, regret catching up with him, for some reason ready to listen to Mauja and not just judge him upon the rumors that had flown around Helovia years ago. Formidable, but growing older.
But he had not expected this. Mauja had sought the Grove for a reason he couldn't remember, aimlessly wandering the fractured earth searching for the one whom he had the most left to say things to, yet never finding her; the wind lay the other way, so it was his eye that found the aging stallion first, and not his nose.
Did heroes die in war to avoid this?
Not that it was much his eye could see—he couldn't see the troubled mind, burdened heart and aching joints. He could only see the head lowered in what seemed like defeat, and the silver breaking up the pitch black of a scarred face.
Is this my future, too?
He was not far, frozen hooves tracing another path up to the pond's edge, calm blue eyes on the outline of the father of someone he cared very much for.
"Paladin," he said quietly, at last, the hint of a question buried in the folds of his voice.
[ @[Tamme]. Hope you don't mind I nabbed this. <3 ]
He had not seen Paladin rise, had not seen his bloodied past and the sterling sword of equality he raised in the torn land of Isilme—Mauja's first words written within that black book were spattered with blood, a heart hardened to iron, his snowflake path mingling with the ferocious virtue of a warlord in his prime. Paladin had been there, at the Edge, his stalwart belief in Mauja's evil driving him to lend the aid of his herd to Mirage's pack of lying dogs. He had seen him then, emblazoned in the glory of a warmaster: not so old that his body could not handle a war, but old enough to have survived much. And learned much.
Then he had seen him as his arc began to shift towards the earth, a comet with his flaming red-and-white tail heading down the inevitable path into decay—the road they all would take, some day. Graying muzzle, regret catching up with him, for some reason ready to listen to Mauja and not just judge him upon the rumors that had flown around Helovia years ago. Formidable, but growing older.
But he had not expected this. Mauja had sought the Grove for a reason he couldn't remember, aimlessly wandering the fractured earth searching for the one whom he had the most left to say things to, yet never finding her; the wind lay the other way, so it was his eye that found the aging stallion first, and not his nose.
Did heroes die in war to avoid this?
Not that it was much his eye could see—he couldn't see the troubled mind, burdened heart and aching joints. He could only see the head lowered in what seemed like defeat, and the silver breaking up the pitch black of a scarred face.
Is this my future, too?
He was not far, frozen hooves tracing another path up to the pond's edge, calm blue eyes on the outline of the father of someone he cared very much for.
"Paladin," he said quietly, at last, the hint of a question buried in the folds of his voice.
[ @[Tamme]. Hope you don't mind I nabbed this. <3 ]
