i am the vanguard of your destruction

For so long, he had wanted her to die. For so long, he had dreamed of her death, and the imagining had been full of vicious anger, of an unleashed, unending flood of violent hatred, of a peaceful release—like he had finally, finally laid his demons to rest.

But now she was dead, and he felt nothing.

She was dead, and it changed nothing. Not for him, anyway. Mirage had been absent most of his life. She had been nothing but a memory, a haunting thought, a focus for his erratic and brutal mind. Perhaps, in his hatred of her, he had saved Helovia from a beast—the beast which tossed and turned restlessly, fettered by the words I have no right and struggling against listless apathy.

Not even the fire could surprise him, or drive him back further. He just stood rooted where he was, watching her black, slender body break into fragments of ash and cinders, blowing and billowing with the acrid smoke. Errant flames were stamped out ruthlessly, until the ground around them was swept clean, just soft loam, dark earth, and still Mauja simply stood there. Watching. Waiting. Mulling over how curious it was to be defended—to hear the voice of some other body speak the truth, take the word accident in their mouth and offer it like a shield and an olive branch to those who still only heard murder. If he looked at Aaron, would he see the scab torn off that old, festering wound? Would he see tears in the shadow of his eyes? Blood, leaking from his soul?

In truth, he didn't want to speak of it. Labeling it an accident was subjective at best, and he wasn't sure all would share his opinion of it. Those who had never been afraid, who had never been terrified, would they be able to relate to the wildness that causes you to lash out blindly? Would they be able to accept that here had been no reason for his death?

".. but as a family member who just simply needs to understand..." Mauja blinked his red-rimmed eyes, slowly craning his neck to get a better look at the stallion who had gone from accusing to pleading—and he felt for him, and he could not deny him, because he had asked for the very same thing from the Moon Goddess and gotten nothing. And nothing doesn't help with grief. But tell a stallion who always seemed a tad too trigger-happy around Mauja .. to confess to having driven ice through Torasin's heart, whether or not it had been intentional ...

Fear was only natural, but it was crippling. Breathing in the ashes he tried to gather his thoughts, before sighing. His throat felt raw, his face oddly tender from the warmth—his body tired. "Torasin," he said, and the faintest, saddest of smiles touched his eyes, ghosted upon his lips. "His dragon had no reason to love me. We had met twice previously, and neither encounter had been .. peaceful, to say the least. I am to blame for that." One time had been when Torasin had come to the newly burned World's Edge to preach of the might of the Sun God. Cineviam had carved an 'S' in his haunch before they had run him off. The second time had been in the war. "We chanced upon one another in the Deep Forest. I was .. surprised to see him, called out to him, as he called out to me, and we faced one another. I wished him no harm, and I believe he did not wish me harm either." Time had dulled the edges of the memory, but he doubted he would ever forget that day—colors and emotions would lose their brilliance, but the chain of events would always burn in his mind. "But then.. Kiba... I can only assume he wanted to protect Torasin... He came down from the trees, straight for me, blasting me." An involuntary shudder passed through him at the memory. "I both hate and fear fire." In part thanks to you. He forced the words out like pulling a band-aid off—if he stalled now, he would never get them out. "I'm not even sure if I saw it was a dragon, or if I just registered the fire. I.. panicked. Lashed out." And a spire of ice rose beside them, wrenching its way out of the ground, its cold tip touched by fire-light. The flames refracted in its icy depths, flickering and dancing. There was a thickness in his voice as he went on. "And I hit him straight in the chest." The spike fell apart, shattered and crashed to the warm floor—its edges already made dull by the heat as it lapped against them.

And Torasin was no more.

Something, something dark and ugly, reared its head in the depths of his soul—it grinned, wolf-like fangs of ice glistening coldly, and its laugh grated along Mauja's nerves. Oh, how beautiful; to stand next to his enemies and speak of Torasin so soulfully, so mournfully, tears glazing his eyes and choking up his throat.. to tell them of this accident ...

The smugness spread through him like poison, chasing his heartbeat into a terrified frenzy, stirring his thoughts into mayhem and chaos—it had been an accident, goddammit, it had been a fucking accident, he hadn't meant to do it .. right? (—RIGHT?)

There went a screech through his skull, and everything went black.

[ @Aaron || idkwtfman. He has .. sort of fainted/blacked out mentally, but he's still standing. Maybe leaning against a tree or something for support but he hasn't fallen down. He won't react to speech or contact of any kind and this was probably my last post in this thread. ^^; Not sure when he'll err.. wake up. ]