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02-19-2017, 09:18 AM
Amidst the wall of grief, the agony, the shock when death bellows its haunting lullaby, Enna’s suggestion rang supreme, and in the silence thereafter, Lena wanted to lift the other Mender up to the heavens, for having wisdom, for sharing guidance, for being a beacon in the sullen tragedy. She watched and waited for the prince, for the lordling, to make his decision – and her heart went out to him, for being forced into a role that no one would’ve wanted. But the Reaper deserved more than a watery grave, buried in the sea, or burned, taken to ash and dumped out with the rest of the soil at the year’s end, whipped and scattered away when the wind became unrelenting again. They owed him so much more – and so when the boy finally indicated his choice, Lena held no apprehension in marching forward. The General shouldn’t have had to beg or plead for them to carry the King to his final resting place – the mass should’ve swarmed, should’ve fought, should’ve tangled together to pledge themselves to the Lord one last time. Is this how you honor your sovereign? By doing nothing? She yearned to ask, to spurn them, to court them into something other than shell-shocked stares – become more than what they’d been in the past few seasons, listless, lifeless, hollowed bits and pieces. Perhaps they’d already forgotten the ways he’d protected, guarded, and shielded them. Perhaps they were too foolish, too young, too stunned to do anything than stand by – but the Songbird wouldn’t. The femme didn’t look back, didn’t wonder any longer why others didn’t dare to move – softly, on dulcet motions, on careful strokes, on reverent steps, she drew forward, away from the crowd, from the masses, and towards the ramparts, the fortifications, of a demon who’d pledged his life to them, and she could do the same in return. She reached out, brushing her maw along Ode’s shoulder once in solidarity, then angled her shoulder towards Deimos’ fallen haunches, settling herself low, ready for others to come in, so they could all be united in strength for the northern beast and his proud, vigilant stance. But I put it out of my mind long enough to call it courage To live without a lifeline |
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