déodat,It was a sinking feeling; one that rooted itself deep within his breast and made him shudder with regret. That’s not to say that he felt remorse for anything in particular, but it was a pressing feeling all the same. Quietly, Déodat stole away from the Basin, leaving behind his patrols in exchange for a night spent under the stars. There was no rhyme or reason behind his plight other than the daily toils that often drove him to madness and a mere abhorrence for the mundane.
Déodat was not a creature that indulged in thoughtless behavior, but rather moments of blissful ignorance. After all, he could not sustain the cruel façade that often soiled his namesake forever... He felt with such heart and such passion that at times he was consumed by it, even burned by it… But that did not keep him from maintaining the formal deliverance of his soul because he was nothing if not refined and certainly well-known for his gruff appeal. The man was not fond of allies and instead preferred the cold reality that came with one’s knowledge of their enemies. Without this knowledge, he felt as if he could not define the relationships that brightened his dark world. Those like Lena and d’Artagnan were individuals that touched his heart when he had least expected it. They had warmed him when he had felt only cold and confided in him when he had felt only the aching throb of loneliness.
But they had not changed him; he was forever gripped by the brooding touch of fate and the violent hands of war. Though they were now only subtle reminders of his past, he was still stained by their follies and bereft by their incentives. There was no hope for change waiting patiently around the corner and certainly no place for his wonton pleas for release…
He was simply unmoved.
It had been some time since he had taken to the idea of leaving the Basin, at least in the name of mindless exploration, but when the notion struck- somehow it took. So without further debate, the beast trekked blindly into the unknown that he later came to know as the Frozen Arch. The cold was unnerving and perhaps a bit breathtaking, but he took it in stride and chose to ignore the painful ache that accompanied the rush of snow and ice upon the gusty winds that swept haphazardly across the snowy dunes. At times he swayed with the power of it and when he became numb to the frigid embrace of all that made him not only mad with irritation and regret, he was calm.
This place was not unlike the battle grounds that told bloodied tales of his victory. They longed to see his wreckage upon the snow-covered plains, but as many would come to know, he was not an animal so easily broken. After countless eternities spent trudging this way and that, the beast settled upon tracing the hardened grounds towards an opening in the ice. It was a large cavern that had certainly sheltered many others from the blinding snow and ice which stood to reason that Déodat had not been the only fool so stupid to wander from their homestead in favor of finding what disappointment lay beyond. However, he was not alone and though he could have turned heel to go- he stayed.
It was a curious thing for the man to endure such brutal climate only to be rewarded with the drab idea of possible conversation, but this mare was also a curious thing to see. With her shoulders tipped and her back raised, it was all Déodat could do not to laugh and assume that she had reckoned her fate with the brink of insanity. Hre gaze seemed to reach beyond the surface of the ice as if she were lost in the promises of some greater tomorrow, but the man could only assume her confusion to be cause by something of a more substantial nature. However, he wasn’t one to sit and ponder her actions but instead he chuckled and mused aloud. “You look troubled.”
She was a queer looking animal with a face laced in white that looked similar to the jagged teeth of an old carcass. But of course, the connections would never be made in the mind of a war-hardened beast because he had seen life in the eyes of those now passed. He had spun the last moments of their existence by the spool of his decay and left them to the earth where they would soon conspire and disappear. He had never seen the process of their misery but instead only the horizon of his success…
Those old bones could not compare to the life that stood before him now. No, they too were only reminders of his past for those in the heavens kind of enough to remember the ones that fell… |
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[O] Magic in death and beauty in blood
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