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01-02-2017, 05:06 PM
ÖDE
Öde sees her at the gathered crowd in the Rotunda, his second mother, of sorts. She'd been there at the grave site too, where the Reaper had laid down his scythe into the cold and the snow, but grief had consumed them all then and Öde had drifted away back into the wilderness to wonder and wander. Now however, with a task set before them, he can't help but let his gaze trail after her as she departs for the shore.
He follows.
He's uncertain of what to say, of how she'll react, or if she will at all. She's a kind mare, but he suspects his feelings towards her are not entirely reciprocated. After all, she only offered to him what she does all others, a calm smile and an opportunity to be healed. How was she to know that in so offering to him, that she was the first and therefore stole a place inside his cavernous heart forever more?
He is grown now, yet he can't help but look to her as some guiding sense of comfort and shelter, of safety and relief. He is overcome by Deimos' death as much as his own, and shaken as he is, he wants nothing more than to hide beneath her legs in the eclipse of her body's shadow. That's he's too tall now doesn't make much difference to how he feels.
He huffs exaggeratedly and makes his way towards her, pausing to collect the occasional bone here and there. The sea breeze ruffles the wolf pelt upon his back, sets the leather straps that gird his loins to sway and strike his flanks with a muffled slap. "Lena," he greets softly, more of an exhale curling from his lungs than any actual word, but he should be close enough for to hear, if she is of the mind. He stands, watching her work, and the barest trace of a smile finds its way on his muzzle.
He has since washed the filth of his demise from his body, but he is still gaunt and haggard. It's hard to erase a year of disuse with a single bath.
He follows.
He's uncertain of what to say, of how she'll react, or if she will at all. She's a kind mare, but he suspects his feelings towards her are not entirely reciprocated. After all, she only offered to him what she does all others, a calm smile and an opportunity to be healed. How was she to know that in so offering to him, that she was the first and therefore stole a place inside his cavernous heart forever more?
He is grown now, yet he can't help but look to her as some guiding sense of comfort and shelter, of safety and relief. He is overcome by Deimos' death as much as his own, and shaken as he is, he wants nothing more than to hide beneath her legs in the eclipse of her body's shadow. That's he's too tall now doesn't make much difference to how he feels.
He huffs exaggeratedly and makes his way towards her, pausing to collect the occasional bone here and there. The sea breeze ruffles the wolf pelt upon his back, sets the leather straps that gird his loins to sway and strike his flanks with a muffled slap. "Lena," he greets softly, more of an exhale curling from his lungs than any actual word, but he should be close enough for to hear, if she is of the mind. He stands, watching her work, and the barest trace of a smile finds its way on his muzzle.
He has since washed the filth of his demise from his body, but he is still gaunt and haggard. It's hard to erase a year of disuse with a single bath.
I have become DEATH
the destroyer of worlds.
image creditsthe destroyer of worlds.
Be aware active magic doesn't work in his vicinity due to his magic!
62.5/62.5 HPHelovia Hard Mode
