armor laced with blood shall reclaim his name

The orders had stated that as soon as we began the red mineral substance, that we were to avoid fighting - giving the substance a chance to work its' magic. It was a short respite, of course. Though I hesitate to call it a true respite. There had been nothing relaxing in the way it changed each and every user - some were more sensitive to it than others with the effects occurring just a few short hours after the first dose. I had been lucky; it took a few days before I could feel the changes. It hit hard, crippling the best of us with a madness most couldn't comprehend. The madness wasn't an outright, aggressive type but rather a slow, smoldering, seething madness. One that you could see in the eyes, if you dared to look long enough. Some claimed to hear the mineral talking to them, twisting their minds and cloaking it with darkness. Me? I heard singing. Pleasant, sweet singing.

Even now, I can't erase that voice from my mind.

I left them all behind before the fighting began again. Only to be in the wrong place and the wrong time. I, like the others from the Rift, had been thrust into a battle that wasn't our own. I somehow, maker only knows how, managed to make it out of the battle unscathed. Wet from exertion and from the mare that had dowsed the battlefield with a waterfall, but otherwise I am left with no new scars. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at all disappointed. What's more disappointing is how little I had damaged the winter god. I only managed to scrape his shoulder and his paw - it wasn't enough to make that much of a difference. Perhaps if I'd thought to sharpen my horn before the battle started... but I digress. The battle is done and the bear is gone.

None of it matters any longer.

Silence, no matter how brief, settles over me after my voice - rough and strained - addresses the much younger male. The lack of sound soothes me, wrapping my tired body in a soft blanket of warmth. My muscles ache - partially from their prior disuse on the battlefield and partially from the addiction burning through my veins - toxic and deadly. I just... ache. Everything hurts; including my head. So when the younger male falls silent, I manage to avoid sighing dramatically in relief. No need to anger the younger stallion into a battle. Not after battling the winter god. So instead, I focus on the mare, finding myself quietly mesmerized by the swirling colors on her coat. I, too, had noticed her in the battle. Her glowing, celestial body was like a beacon of hope. Perhaps that's a strange notion to anyone outside the Rift, but from the perspective of someone that was born and raised there - it isn't only accurate but also comforting. Where I came from was dark. Most of the soldiers were variations of black and any who took the red mineral sprouted red crystals exactly like mine. The only difference is where the crystals are located, how thick, and how widespread they are.

Her voice is brittle, fragile and when all she manages to squeak out is one word before it fails her; I feel compelled to go to her. Compelled to pull her into a warm but strong embrace and chase away her fear. But something tells me to stay back. Not out of fear of her but rather to keep her here. To keep her from running away. I'm intelligent enough to understand that my appearance can be... monstrous or intimidating. Carefully and slowly I shift so that I am now facing her instead of the blood red pond at the base of the falls. A few moments pass before she finds her voice again, though there is no confidence in that gentle voice of hers. When she paused I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she hadn't failed or that she wouldn't always fail but I couldn't find the right words, though I wasn't sure that she would even believe me if I did. Exhaling softly, I resign myself to following my gut instinct and I take a small step towards her. So small, I hardly moved at all. "You didn't fail." I began, rather bluntly - more blunt than I really intended. "Leaving a battle unscathed is rare. Fighting generally has a cost. Whether that cost is physical or mental, it is there." I explain, attempting to soften the hard edges of my voice. The roughness remains, though not as harsh as it had been, and the strain has dissipated.

She continued, though her words change and soon she's referring to herself in the third person. The younger male would likely find that baffling but somehow, I understood. The rift was a place of many strange things. When she speaks of the winter god, her gaze drifts to mine and my red eyes soften a bit with warmth. I nod in agreement before I respond. "He was. They all were. But he's gone now." I pause, offering a half-hearted smile. "We are safe... for now, at least." I conclude, attempting (and likely failing) to lift her spirits. Being raised and groomed as a warrior has left me a bit lackluster in the social department - especially when it comes to comforting females.

By now, I was listening carefully to her - completely ignoring the other male (for all I knew, he'd left already). So when she spoke her name, I tucked it carefully into my mind - repeating it mentally many times with the hopes that it would make it past the fog of addiction. I needed to remember her. Needed to. Everything about her pulled at my soul, practically begging me to protect her. We are safe here, for now, though every ounce of my pessimistic heart wonders how soon this place would come crashing down into the corruption I knew from the rift. "Seren." I repeat her name verbally, then continue. "It's a pleasure to meet you." I add, completely genuine. "Would you... like to find a healer?" I ask, remembering that she had been injured in the battle instead of me. It should have been me. The thought echoed absently in my mind, even though her injury had nothing to do with me. It was entirely unrelated but that didn't stop the guilt. So I stood there quietly; dark and muscled, a warrior with a constant battle raging within.

CRYSTARIUS