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09-06-2015, 06:41 AM
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
Life was a curious thing—you had those you loved, but you just kept on losing them, for once reason or another. Some went away (Kahlua). Some died (Psyche). Some.. some, you just let the tide of the world take—or maybe it was the tide of the world that took you, and in the whirls of water you lost sight of them. He loved them still, and he thought about them often—Faelene, Lena, Ulrik, Glacia, everyone else he had known in the frozen north.. everyone else who had followed him from the dragon's wrath at the Edge.
Everyone he had forsaken. Everyone he thought of, thought oh, I should go see them, and then just—never did. He grit his teeth. And it was all his fault.
He knew that, and yet he seemed incapable to change it.
The surf rushed up—the spring air made the ocean violent, a stormy gray heave, its incessant rage a roar as it threw itself against the white cliffs of his edge. It almost seemed angry that land was in its way, stubbornly battering itself against it and, through the ages, slowly carving itself a path deeper.
Maybe one day, far after Mauja had left this world, it would have devoured all land.
Deep in thought, the Queen of the Edge padded along the white shore with his head low.
Until the stillness shattered—and the wind carried with it a voice, a cry for help, desperation given form. His movements ceased, white head rising, ears flickering—did everyone fall into the ocean and need his help these days? It felt like he'd saved countless horses on the beach, but in reality, this would probably only be the second.
His eyes on wings soared out over the waves, seeking for the source, hunting by sight and by sound; they drifted easily with the fickle winds, and then—
And then, they saw her.
Lost in the waves of the hungry sea was his child.
"Fuck," Mauja spat into the sand, and turned into a white streak throwing himself into the arms of the very sea that threatened to swallow his girl.
His mind strained—his soul pushed—and from the unruly bottom of the sea rose the ice, fighting higher and higher against the strong pull of the ocean. Some snapped from the pressure. Some, he wasn't strong enough to pull high enough, as his legs fought to get him out there, and not be pulled under himself.
Some, he hoped, would rise high enough, and last long enough, to trap her against, and keep her from being pulled further out.
Maybe he had lost her to the fickle ways of his mind and his skewered perception of time—but he be damned if he lost her to death today.
[ "Save me!" Neo posts 4 years later... @Glacia .. not sure how to place this with the SWP though. ]
Everyone he had forsaken. Everyone he thought of, thought oh, I should go see them, and then just—never did. He grit his teeth. And it was all his fault.
He knew that, and yet he seemed incapable to change it.
The surf rushed up—the spring air made the ocean violent, a stormy gray heave, its incessant rage a roar as it threw itself against the white cliffs of his edge. It almost seemed angry that land was in its way, stubbornly battering itself against it and, through the ages, slowly carving itself a path deeper.
Maybe one day, far after Mauja had left this world, it would have devoured all land.
Deep in thought, the Queen of the Edge padded along the white shore with his head low.
Until the stillness shattered—and the wind carried with it a voice, a cry for help, desperation given form. His movements ceased, white head rising, ears flickering—did everyone fall into the ocean and need his help these days? It felt like he'd saved countless horses on the beach, but in reality, this would probably only be the second.
His eyes on wings soared out over the waves, seeking for the source, hunting by sight and by sound; they drifted easily with the fickle winds, and then—
And then, they saw her.
Lost in the waves of the hungry sea was his child.
"Fuck," Mauja spat into the sand, and turned into a white streak throwing himself into the arms of the very sea that threatened to swallow his girl.
His mind strained—his soul pushed—and from the unruly bottom of the sea rose the ice, fighting higher and higher against the strong pull of the ocean. Some snapped from the pressure. Some, he wasn't strong enough to pull high enough, as his legs fought to get him out there, and not be pulled under himself.
Some, he hoped, would rise high enough, and last long enough, to trap her against, and keep her from being pulled further out.
Maybe he had lost her to the fickle ways of his mind and his skewered perception of time—but he be damned if he lost her to death today.
[ "Save me!" Neo posts 4 years later... @Glacia .. not sure how to place this with the SWP though. ]
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
