02-19-2019, 10:48 AM
We got older and I should have known
that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
He’s got a case of broodiness, and so he’s staring into the heart-shaped lake.
This quest to heal the plague had started here… the sickness is still here, and unfortunately has not lessened yet either. And where the icicles hit him (there are none, today), he still bears the marks. Not like scars, though - the ice is rather pretty. The kid has little snowflakes too now, and he suspects that is some weird kind of magic transfer. But what can one do about it; that’s the way the world works these days.
And still he wonders why the lake never freezes over. It is still such a strange phenomenon. But if he’s really honest with himself, so is he.
The point of it all? Not so sure. He’d thought claiming the land for Nerine would mean something. To them, out there in Nerine, but also to himself. Instead, things got really messy, festered like an old wound, and now that he finally has it all sorted out (sort of) he honestly thinks he should just cut clean.
But the point is, the Isle will need to have settled a tad more for him to safely do that. Settled with Nerine, and it’s place in the world.
And so he lingers, and wonders once again why he’s even alive.
Perhaps Shah has the right of it, retreating like that, and only really talking to their mother and to his wife.
Too bad Scorch doesn’t ever really want to talk to him.
The scaled stallion rests his head on the lonely tree for a while. But processing on his own leads him in circles, he has found - he needs people to ground him, stopping him from wandering, people that guide him back home. People who actually care for whatever kind of hair-fractured soul he has left - after all, most the good he’s done is to fix the bad he left behind. So much so that his own mother seems to be scared of him?
Seems that that leaves him his wife, and so when he opens his eyes, he has decided it has been too long since they had any normal talk, unrelated to politics and the bad things of the world.
She’s the only escape he has, or so it feels sometimes. The only thing he’ll always turn back to. Like a moth to a flame, she’s the light and warmth... stop. Better just go find her.
This quest to heal the plague had started here… the sickness is still here, and unfortunately has not lessened yet either. And where the icicles hit him (there are none, today), he still bears the marks. Not like scars, though - the ice is rather pretty. The kid has little snowflakes too now, and he suspects that is some weird kind of magic transfer. But what can one do about it; that’s the way the world works these days.
And still he wonders why the lake never freezes over. It is still such a strange phenomenon. But if he’s really honest with himself, so is he.
The point of it all? Not so sure. He’d thought claiming the land for Nerine would mean something. To them, out there in Nerine, but also to himself. Instead, things got really messy, festered like an old wound, and now that he finally has it all sorted out (sort of) he honestly thinks he should just cut clean.
But the point is, the Isle will need to have settled a tad more for him to safely do that. Settled with Nerine, and it’s place in the world.
And so he lingers, and wonders once again why he’s even alive.
Perhaps Shah has the right of it, retreating like that, and only really talking to their mother and to his wife.
Too bad Scorch doesn’t ever really want to talk to him.
The scaled stallion rests his head on the lonely tree for a while. But processing on his own leads him in circles, he has found - he needs people to ground him, stopping him from wandering, people that guide him back home. People who actually care for whatever kind of hair-fractured soul he has left - after all, most the good he’s done is to fix the bad he left behind. So much so that his own mother seems to be scared of him?
Seems that that leaves him his wife, and so when he opens his eyes, he has decided it has been too long since they had any normal talk, unrelated to politics and the bad things of the world.
She’s the only escape he has, or so it feels sometimes. The only thing he’ll always turn back to. Like a moth to a flame, she’s the light and warmth... stop. Better just go find her.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Breckin] whoops someone is a bit of a mess today
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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