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02-21-2016, 05:07 AM
IVEZHO
Time stood still. Ivezho felt the girl's gentle touch to his wing, he felt the waves of grief washing over them, through them, he felt the residual numbness that followed. For a handful of moments, it was just them, standing, grieving, watching the foals, both living and dead, that laid before them. And then time sped up again. Ivezho vaguely recognises Ilios, and with a vacant stare he receives the stallion's words. A crack, a twitch, and Ivezho is frowning at the stallion, wanting to bite and kick and tell him to fuck off with his worldly advice and perfect solution. No, no, it wasn't that easy - and he could see that Glacia was crumbling too, that she wasn't coping with the words uttered in a foolish, poorly timed attempt at comfort. He wanted to support her, to hold her, to be her anchor but - He was shoved aside. He let himself be pushed away, though perhaps his ears flicked back at the intruding mare for a moment. But she threw most of her attack at Ilios, saying things Ivezho wanted to but that his tongue was too heavy, too weighed down with the grief of the moment to craft himself. Then Rhoa came. Like a dark beacon, his wings lit his path and his form fell from the skies unceremoniously, like his sons before him. Ivezho heard his words too, they boomed and quaked, they raged and demanded. Ivezho could only look, sadly, emptily, at his brother. What else could he do? He was no healer, no miracle worker, he could not call back a spirit from whatever lay beyond, he could not breathe life into the lungs of one who never breathed at all. He remembered the day he was born then, with a sudden vivacity that shocked him. He remembered Rhoa, and the struggles he made to breathe. He remembered the healer, who came and breathed life into those damaged lungs. But this foal, this Vidar was never going to breathe. "Ilios," Ivezho croaked sharply, turning to the teal-dipped steed with a harsh stare. "Time to go," he ordered in a voice that allowed no refute. Ivezho knew that Ilios meant well, but his presence had caused nothing but more tension in a situation that was tense enough. "I am these children's uncle," he said again, addressing the masses, "and I intend on being there for the life of Kvasir. Anything you need that I can give, is yours." He made the offer sincerely, to the mares present. It was not his place to make any further decisions, or have any further input on the child's life. "Rhoa-" he said, stepping towards his brother at last, reaching out to touch him, to embrace him, if he wanted it. Ivezho would stand there as long as was needed, holding his brother, weeping with him, if that was what was needed. There was nothing else he could do. "I'm sorry, gaezo." There was nothing else he could say. |
Coding by Tamme
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
