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Across the land, chased by darkness, and trailing the whisps of life. It seemed…other worldly, nightmareish. It should be a celebration, a garden of eden….He had a family, twins, born pure and bright, of a mate he gave his whole heart, who took it, broken and all. They should have the world at their hoof tips, laughing and racing through the lands like the princes they were, fearing nothing but the end of the full day. Instead they were refugees, tossed about in a world of politics, and wars having nothing to do with them…and there was nothing he could do.
It burned. It starved. It woke him. It haunted him. So that he was here, away from those he protected. Not far, never far, but distanced, to keep the weary nerves and burning anger from their sight. So that left him here. The altar of Kaos. Earth eyes trace the carvings and high risen lines of monument. The gold want bristling enough to be angry, to kick and the stone, but his worn mind and soul only looks on with detestation. But he was not a fool…much as in this moment he wished to be. Many dark days had he seen this world, but never darker than this. No hour felt heavier. It wouldn’t be long…whatever mystical battle was being fought, victors rarely stayed silent long. No…it wouldn’t be long.
The gold’s meditation was broken by the sounds of others. For not the first time he cursed his missing cloak, but none-the-less slide behind the altar soundlessly into the shadows. A scream rings across the doomed air. The strange twisted words are easy enough to recognize….Yael. The mare, so kind and gracious who had lead his still very pregnant Hotaru into safety (God, remember when that was a thing?). Her words break his memory, and give a dark brooding to his low anger.
He steps out to ask, but another voice cuts in just as quick. The gold catches his breath, letting it slowly hiss out. How had he not heard them? That voice though…it is familiar, though he can name it not. Family, she seeks her family. The gold chokes down the sickness of his own worries. They are safe. Haldir is with them. He would tell. But he can’t help but hold a grudge at the newcomer for her topic of choice.
The gold can stand it no more. Crowned head high, the Laureline silently steps from behind the altar, his gait slow and steady. Earth eyes find Yael, nodding, then to the other….Ki’irha. Good gods, had it been that long. Age did not wound her beauty, but her life had taken toll on her soul, weighing down her shoulders and whipping her till there were lines under her eyes of grief and pain. “All of Helovia is being pushed by the fog…perhaps they…” It is the only veiled comfort he can give. If her family lived, there was chance yet to see them. It was also a veiled attempt to get her off the tender subject.
But then he tilts his head, the silver crown shifts, still bearing the blackened burned strand from Ophelia, as he turns to Yael. Questions unasked…Earth eyes linger…asking without saying a word….then the whole head shakes, shaking away the dust of the dim mood. He turns back to Ki’irha with a Cheshire grin. “Come now though Star-atlas, since when does a warrior of the north, kept by the wolves, yield to panic and despair.” No matter how deep his mood, when the world was ending, the gold would ever be finding something to grin at. “Besides,” He turns back to Yael “peace is ever so boring.” It was a lie as golden as they come, but that lie, he needed for himself.
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