The last thing that he remembers is the sight of her running from him in the rain.
He sees the way she was illuminated by the lightning as it cracked across the sky, the crushed gold of her hips and the way she had looked at him with such hate in her eyes. He had taken comfort in that, the way that she had spit back at him (try to destroy me). He had taken comfort knowing that she had been the one to finally sever the moment, to finally cut him off and move away—leaving him alone.
(He deserved to be alone. He did.)
It had taken him several days, but he had finally managed to make his way back to Loess. The maze that had overtaken so much of the kingdom was mostly gone now and he was glad for it; glad that he did not need to stare everyday at the physical reminder of the war that he had unveiled his true nature during.
He still keeps to himself within the kingdom. He has no true ambition to rise in the ranks for the dragon king and although he had pledged the strength of his back, he is all too content hiding it. Let them think that he is weak. Let them think he is lazy. He would rather run with the pack than bend the knee anyway.
Today, he finds himself roaming the hills during the wintery afternoon.
The bite of the breeze does little to dull the ache in his chest when he thinks of how much of his life lay in shattered pieces around him—pieces that he is responsible for. It does little to dull that gnawing need that has not left him since he met her, that constant, biting reminder of something more that stretched in him.
It is so sharp today that he almost thinks she is a mirage.
But when he glances up, there she is, standing in his home and it knocks the wind out of him. He remains still, his antlered head cut against the cruel blue of the Loessian sky, his face as impassive as the Hyaline mountains that lie east of him. “Kensa,” he hates the way that he says her name, hates the way that it sounds so gentle on his tongue—his gravely voice at war with the sharpness of his features.
“What are you doing here?”
BRIGADE
when I was a man I thought it ended when I knew love's perfect ache
but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake
@[Kensa]