i am the vanguard of your destruction

[ Continuation from here. ]

Don't—

Just don't—

His cry had gone out—seemingly unanswered at first, as nothing stirred but a slow-seeping rage at the bottom of his soul—and it was all that he could do.

It was all that he could do.

A part of his soul was dying and he was fucking helpless.

She was lying there, between his front feet, so small, so.. so perfect, even with her feathers ruffled and something, somewhere, bent out of shape—even in the tide of oblivion threatening to sweep her away (for forever) she was beautiful, because the darkness in her mind was warm.

It was warm. Warm, unlike the flood of black cold pushing against the last, breaking barrier of her mind.

"Don't," he sobbed, black nose next to her, tear-glazed eyes stuck on her, because—because if this was going to be the last time..

Shit, he couldn't even think it, couldn't even comprehend it—a darkness too vast for the confines of his skull, so it just exploded out in a hail of thought-shards and, and, and pain.

He supposed that was were the tears came from—all those things he couldn't feel, because they were too great, and all those things he could not think, because he had no words.

"Please," he begged of her, but she could not hear, and it felt stupid to ask more of her when she already gave what she had. His eyes closed, horn scratching the ground as he bowed towards her; he had cried out for help, and for a time, it seemed like none would come. Like none had any to give. Or like none cared.

A God had died.

Helovia was safe. Their duty fulfilled.

Who needed to care about a decrepit old stallion minutes from losing the best piece of his soul?

But then, there was a presence. Someone said his name. Tear-blurred eyes slipped open to a world that had no right to be so beautiful (because the most beautiful thing was slipping away), and to the familiar, diffuse outline of a giant stallion. Tembovu, saying something about the Edge healers. Tembovu, trying to fix this broken mess.

Tembovu, cleaning up the shit the God had left for them.

But he didn't understand—he wasn't linked to the tiny creature on the ground, couldn't feel how tired her heart was of beating when blood kept leaking out where it shouldn't, he couldn't know the shadows haunting her, hounding her, herding her closer and closer to the point where he could never follow—

"There's no time for that," was all he said, grief leaking out through his eyes, his mouth, every pore of his body—and it clashed with the voice saying you should try, you should try anything, what if she holds out long enough and you didn't send for them—

He never got so far, though. He never managed to say any more at all to Tembovu, because—and he sped up this part of events a bit—some black-and-blue little shit came and yelled at him.

She'd come padding up to them, all soft and silent, drawn to his grief like moth to a flame.

She had said, what have you done, and Mauja wondered the exact fucking same thing. What had he done?

Killed a God.

Yelled for help.

But apparently, he had done something—he, exclusively, because the mare shrieked in his face, and he didn't have a single clue what was going on.

Maybe it had something to do with that colt he'd flung to hell and back.

(Hey, it was an accident—)

He had more important things to care about than some poor sod already dead.

So he simply flipped his ears back and glared at her, unsure of what to say. Something along the lines of 'get the fuck out of my face if you can't help me' was on his tongue, but someone else cut in—a complete stranger, hissing at the ball of black-blue fury.

And then, she simply took control of the situation. "Move!" she snapped, pushing against the bodies blocking her, fire dancing along her spine—

—fire.

(He's torn between shying away, and charging her.)

But he didn't have the time for either. She fell to her knees by his feet, muzzle reaching out to touch his owl (his owl), and if he could've, he would've beaten himself senseless.

I don't know if you're saving her, or ending her.

Trust had never been his forte.

But this time, it wasn't like he had a choice. There was no one else here that he knew, that he could call upon, that.. that.. that could do anything, and so it was, reluctantly, that he left his place towering above his fallen friend and pressed into the side of Tembovu.

Anxiety written plain all over his face.

The King is dead.

The warmth in Irma became a little easier—a little less tense—a little more stable. Mauja simply closed his eyes, unable, and unwilling, to put words on it anymore. He just let himself go, drifted into the mind of the owl drenched in the heat of a God who had turned its element upon them many times—basked, in the warmth that fell into her in the shape of little sparks. Floated away with her in a river of sunlight.

No longer did the Door of Death cry out her name.

"Thank you," he whispered, the words low and stuck in his throat—his head had fallen back to ground level without him noticing, shoulder still thick against Tembovu, Diego sitting on his haunches (he hadn't even noticed him return). The impassivity in the owl's eyes spoke volumes of the fear he had felt.

Slowly Mauja lowered his head further to breathe warmly upon Tandavi's forehead. Now.. a few things remained. (Finding out what that first mare had shouted at him for wasn't on the list, but he had a notion he wouldn't get away from it.) The most important was somehow moving Irma from the ground and up on his back. The others.. well, take a look at what had happened with that poor sod of a colt he'd probably killed. Making sure this slender young mare who had saved his heart was alright. Checking up on the other Edgers around, if they hadn't drawn back already.

So much to do and yet he was stuck there with his nose against his owl, staring vacantly into the disturbed, bloodied ground.

[ @Tembovu @Ampere @Tandavi -- this doesn't have to be long or anything but it felt better to do it like this instead of clogging up the SWP thread :x also @Random Event because blood falls herpes! ]

i am the vanguard of your destruction

"This. Is. Not. Okay."

But it is, she's fine now, she's better, she'll be fine—

“There is as much- if not more- bravery in facing the wounded of battle than the enemy, itself. Good on you, fire mare,” but someone was screaming, "DON'T JUST ACT LIKE THIS OKAY! LIKE THIS ISN'T YOUR DAMN FAULT!" What wasn't okay? The slender fire mare folded on the ground? Was the shrieking mare worried about her, that she seemed so exhausted from having saved Irma? Mauja glanced down at her, the exhaustion of damn near losing his owl blanking out his gaze and fuddling his mind. She seemed okay, just tired, like all she needed was a good long nap in the sun with a steadfast friend or two keeping guard, so that nothing untoward would happen, so that she could rest easy, and he began to open his mouth to tell the blue-black mare that he was sure she'd be fine when—when—when—

"Don't you dare cry, and don't you shout, or refuse to see what it is you have done. You took her soul, and you shoved it down next to yours, and that awful connection is why this poor creature is on the ground now. YOUR selfishness, YOUR battlelust, YOUR wants DID THIS."

Like what the actual fuck?

“Do you think screeching will help?”

Tembovu then proceeded to ignore the mare in a sort of gentle fashion, trying to talk to Mauja, but Mauja couldn't listen. Didn't listen. Words were chasing themselves through his skull, fighting, desperately, to make sense of the situation. You took her soul— And his eyes kept flitting between the angry mare stomping away and the mare lying on the ground, he took her soul? —poor creature ... and only Mauja was dumb enough to refer to other horses as creatures from time to time, but as he went over what she'd said he realized that she wasn't talking about Tandavi.

She was talking about Irma, lying between his feet in the gentle warmth of healing sleep. She was talking about Irma, saying it was Mauja's fault—saying he had taken her soul—his selfishness, his battle lust, his wants. That it was all his fault.

He didn't know what to feel.

Part of him felt crushed. Well and thoroughly destroyed by her groundless accusations, because he couldn't deny the strain of logic that said if they had not been bonded, she would not have come with him, and if she hadn't come with him, she wouldn't have been blown from the sky when that fucking bear emerged. If they had not been bonded, he would not have loved her so fiercely, and would not have risked losing her, and—

If they had not been bonded, they would not have shared the deep, wild love they shared. If they had not been bonded, she would've lived in her time, and he in his, and his life would've been a lesser place.

But her life? What would it have been?

"This is your fated companion. But it was born before your time. For this reason, you had to come back here."

It never would've been anything different—somewhere, in the pattern of the stars or the currents of the world or fuck if he knew, some time-bending creature had decided that this was the way it would be, no matter what.

The other part of him—the one that wasn't folding in on itself in despair—was angry.

(Anger was easier.)

Who was she, to accuse him? Who was she, to talk about things she knew nothing about? "My selfishness?" he spat at her, taking a single step forward so the owl rested in the shadow of his bulk, and Diego dug his claws into his ass, seeking comfort in his flesh and blood. She's stupid, the owl murmured shakily in his mind. "My battle lust?" It was a pressure building up inside his skull, a rage of blue flames igniting behind his eyes—he was vibrating with it, with a fury so deep he wished he could shred her with his eyes alone. All of his fear, all of his relief, all of his bitter anger, found an outlet, a victim who, really, had nothing to do with it, but simply happened to be in his way.

"And what the fuck do you know about it? What the actual living fuck do you know of how we came to be here?" His voice was harsh and rough, scratched and, beneath the layers of rage, tired—because what did this idiot know?

She assumed. She assumed, and she judged, and Mauja hated her for it.

[ Sorry, I suck. @Ampere @Tembovu @Tandavi ]

i am the vanguard of your destruction

She didn't answer his question.

Of course she didn't—how could she? She had not asked. She had not sought knowledge. She was not part of him, of his life, of those few who might begin to understand the complex, flawed mechanisms powering him. She was nothing to him, and he was nothing to her. She was a victim of her own rage, of her own crusade, and it blinded her to the truth.

As if answering his question with one of her own was going to cover up the flaws. As if it was going to make him forget that he knew the truth, and she did not. "Tell me of any normal owl that would fight that," and his dark lips merely curved into a cold, distant smile. Had Alysanne been here? Mauja didn't know anyone else with an owl—and he hadn't seen any owls fighting the goddamn bear.

Then again, he had been busy being on fire—the throb of his shoulder forgotten in the rising tide of cold and dark. It was a slow, seeping disease in his veins, a quiet song vibrating into life, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he despaired. He knew what this fury did—he knew what lay all too easily at hand when the world took on this saturated kind of clarity, and made every edge stand out sharply in his mind.

He wanted it to stop.

But he couldn't.

He wasn't strong enough, so he just kept on smiling, so calm, so cold, in the face of her spitting electrical rage. She wanted him to tell her—but how could he, when there was no answer? But as he drew breath to tell her how fucking stupid she was, she cut him short, and his ears flipped back again. With Tembovu crowding in behind him he moved further forward, abandoning his position over Irma to let the giant guard her—which, might not have been so smart, considering it put him closer to the angry mare. "You infected her, you stole her, and now you've finally broken her."

Beneath his icy demeanor, beneath the frigidity of his wounded heart, he heard the pieces of his soul breaking, fracturing, falling apart and crashing to the floor.

The last thing I wanted was to hurt you—

She's stupid, Diego said again, firmer this time, though his voice still shook. "Shut up," he finally snapped, his voice a cold whip-lash. Stiff with anger he took the last steps forward, towering above her in his cold fury, and glared down at her. She was pitiful in her rage. She was so.. misguided, so lost, and the breath puffing out of his nostrils smoked white with a chill that came from within. "You know nothing. She did not fight. He—" and his large head flipped around to point his dark muzzle at the owl digging his talons deep enough into Mauja's haunch to release blood, "—did not fight." And even if the shockwave had not forced them out of the sky, would they have fought? Had they ever fought for him?

No. His eyes were cold enough to freeze blood as he stared back at her. "You judge without knowing. You judge without asking."

And without further ado, Mauja turned on the spot, offering his ass to any eventual attack. He expected one to come, and Diego glared as coldly as he could at the mare.

"I can't teach the blind to see. I'm done here." His voice was still a cold snap, but when directed at Tembovu it lost some of its bite. And unless Ampere would put a spoke in the wheel, he would do what he could to get Irma safely onto his back, say his farewells and thanks to the Fire Dancer, and head home.

But if she did put up a fuss .. well. Mauja was angry enough to want a bloodbath despite his burnt shoulder.

[ @Ampere @Tembovu || I keep on sucking. Sorry. If Ampere is fine with leaving things here as they are, we can end it. If she's not, we'll just keep going~ ^^ ]