07-24-2016, 12:04 AM
Father found me and healed my wounds, but the touch of the ice demons left clean white scars, a stark contrast slashing against the deep red violet of my coat. The lines are thin and interlaced like spiderwebs across my face and down my neck, where the tips of their claws traced delicate patterns as I writhed in pain. The ones along my chest and sides and hips are more chaotic, more savage, thickening where claws dug deep into muscle.
I can still hear myself screaming, a stranger’s voice raw and ragged as it tears from my throat.
Father will not be pleased that I left again so soon, nor that I left my guardian behind again. But I have given him no explanation for what happened, neither name or face to put to the one who wielded ice and demons both, and only let me go out of boredom. He could not latch onto my mind and feast on fear, nor could he reach in and twist that fear into something greater. That part of my father’s protection is too intrinsic a part of me, written into my DNA, his magic mutating into something that is Mine.
Father would be standing at my side if I had asked him to. If he knew I were coming back, he would watch over me and keep me safe, and make sure the wielder of demons did not return while I stood amidst the shattered ruins of the ice cage that held me captive, that burned with every touch. He would want to be here. But this is mine to do, and I must do it alone.
I stare down at the shards of ice that remain of what was so briefly my prison, and an unfamiliar sensation begins as heat in my chest, flooding through my body and building, burning, searing through me, and I know now what those words mean. Burning. Searing. Vivid memories of agony piercing flesh, lighting nerves on fire, screaming in my veins and leaving me utterly powerless to stop it.
Tension vibrates in my chest, pressure building until it tears from my throat, a primal scream echoing through the air sounding more of fury than pain, a nuance I would not have understood all too recently. Now I can feel the rage in that sound, feel it vibrating in my chest, resonating and shaking my ribcage, hear the cracking as my bones shatter around m--
Hmm? Not my bones. That shattering sound, though, that was...solid. An auditory sensation, with no physical pain accompanying it. And its origin was farther out than my chest, and in every direction. I open my eyes, glancing around to find the source, when it came from all around me.
The ice.
The shards of ice that were all that remained of my cage lie in glittering little pieces around me. Pieces much smaller than they had been only moments ago, torn from the ground and smashed back down against it until they were nothing more than innocent ice crystals glittering in the sunlight. Well. Isn’t that curious?
Tilting my head, I step forward, leaning down to study the nearest of the scattered masses of ice. To prod it with a hoof, to stir it in amongst the fallen snow. It does not scream in my veins, it does not radiate up my legs and draw anguished cries from my throat, it is merely...ice. Huh. Fascinating.
I can still hear myself screaming, a stranger’s voice raw and ragged as it tears from my throat.
Father will not be pleased that I left again so soon, nor that I left my guardian behind again. But I have given him no explanation for what happened, neither name or face to put to the one who wielded ice and demons both, and only let me go out of boredom. He could not latch onto my mind and feast on fear, nor could he reach in and twist that fear into something greater. That part of my father’s protection is too intrinsic a part of me, written into my DNA, his magic mutating into something that is Mine.
Father would be standing at my side if I had asked him to. If he knew I were coming back, he would watch over me and keep me safe, and make sure the wielder of demons did not return while I stood amidst the shattered ruins of the ice cage that held me captive, that burned with every touch. He would want to be here. But this is mine to do, and I must do it alone.
I stare down at the shards of ice that remain of what was so briefly my prison, and an unfamiliar sensation begins as heat in my chest, flooding through my body and building, burning, searing through me, and I know now what those words mean. Burning. Searing. Vivid memories of agony piercing flesh, lighting nerves on fire, screaming in my veins and leaving me utterly powerless to stop it.
Tension vibrates in my chest, pressure building until it tears from my throat, a primal scream echoing through the air sounding more of fury than pain, a nuance I would not have understood all too recently. Now I can feel the rage in that sound, feel it vibrating in my chest, resonating and shaking my ribcage, hear the cracking as my bones shatter around m--
Hmm? Not my bones. That shattering sound, though, that was...solid. An auditory sensation, with no physical pain accompanying it. And its origin was farther out than my chest, and in every direction. I open my eyes, glancing around to find the source, when it came from all around me.
The ice.
The shards of ice that were all that remained of my cage lie in glittering little pieces around me. Pieces much smaller than they had been only moments ago, torn from the ground and smashed back down against it until they were nothing more than innocent ice crystals glittering in the sunlight. Well. Isn’t that curious?
Tilting my head, I step forward, leaning down to study the nearest of the scattered masses of ice. To prod it with a hoof, to stir it in amongst the fallen snow. It does not scream in my veins, it does not radiate up my legs and draw anguished cries from my throat, it is merely...ice. Huh. Fascinating.