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Choke on your own misdeeds She was gone again. This happened often, his setting out for the day, looking for her form or face - just to greet, to acknowledge, to begin each passage of time with a brief radiance of her presence - only to find his world colder and more grey without her there. Why did she do it? Just...go away? Of course, she had no responsibility to tell him she was leaving, or where she was going or why...but Torleik wished she would. He would come with her. Protect her. Help her. Just...be with her. Instead, here he was, haplessly following in Ophelia's footsteps, searching for her. Last time he hadn't gone looking, she'd come back to him bruised and beaten and the rage that sat in his chest, burned his muscles, was too much to allow him to remain behind, remain still this time. So he tracked, and he followed, all of it taking some time. The Bloodskald had an idea of where she'd gone but only from rumors and small signs; no concrete evidence. He'd be late for whatever it was she was going to and that drove him crazy right now. What if she was running headlong into getting hurt again? What if he couldn't get there in time? What if he lost her? He couldn't. Gods, he couldn't. Not when she'd just started to...warm to him. Not now. Please. Hooves shifted impatiently on the cloud that ascended to the mystical island in the sky and the stallion nearly leapt off as soon as he could make the change from cloud to land. Scents and tensions collided with his senses and the Bloodskald followed both with swiftness, every muscle in his body coiling when the little angry palaver that was occurring came into view. Nothing mattered in that moment except Mauja and Ophelia. He saw no one else, save for that polkadotted fuck reaching out, his muzzle going for his woman's hip. Initially there was no feeling, no emotion, no nothing. He was as cold inside as the ice that pooled around his hooves, stuck, frozen - but then, like his magic, the ice cracked and melted away and a deadly storm brewed inside. It hit, and it hit fast, and it hit swift, and then he was moving and yelling and no thoughts were happening: only emotion. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he smelled what he knew was a burning body and perhaps that tempered his actions, but the sick, infected hate he felt towards this cowardly bastard was too much to bear so soon. Torleik wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him slowly, watched Mauja's face as he died, know that the Frostheart realized who had killed him and why... And then he would keep his blood for warpaint, a testament to the fear his enemies should feel at all times. "YOU!" the warrior thundered, sprinting at nearly a full gallop towards the white and black male. "GET YOUR FILTHY MAW OFF HER! YOU DO NOT GET TO TOUCH HER YOU FUCKING SWINE!" With all of his will he wished to drive his horns deep into this putrid, rotten flesh that was supposedly male somewhere. Torleik saw only the weakness of traitor. For Ophelia's sake he did not attempt murder right here, in front of her, but that did not stop him from barreling between the two and doing his best to force Mauja back. Away. You lost her. She's mine. "I will see you rot in hell before you lay so much as a breath on her again," Torleik hissed a deadly whisper in his face, the words devoid of any warmth Ophelia might have come to know him for. This was not the same man. This man was willing to do whatever he had to do, kill whoever he needed to, in order to protect her. He loved her, and it was not within him to abandon her to anyone or anything. Nothing of his could ever be more important than the pale princess; such self-absorption did not run in his blood and never would. Turning to Ophelia his eyes raked over her, the endless concern he held for this woman clear on his face. He didn't care who knew. Love was not a weakness. "Are you hurt?" he murmured, tone soft as a warm cloak. Suspicious eyes glanced around, seeing some he did not know, and one he believed was called Gaucho that he had never met officially but seen more than once. And there his eyes stuck. Large. Black feathers. Flames. The murders came flashing back - a body was burning nearby, whose? - and Torleik's suspicion mounted. But his concern was not with them. Not right at this moment. They could wait. OOC: Invited to participate so here he is in all his rage. EDIT because herp don't know why I forgot Thran was invisible. Mea culpa "talk talk talk" |
![[Image: 531c0b471919e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/531c0b471919e)
No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
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