09-07-2016, 06:17 AM
no matter what they say, I am still the king
How strange it is that two souls from the same bloodline could be so very different. How an angel could have sprung forth from a demon – how the paths they chose were so very different. But isn’t that how it always goes? Infection and Elysha had been so very different – a golden girl and a darkened monster. Perhaps you, Tiphon, had inherited the very pure silk that rode through Moose (similar to Elysha) – perhaps the oozing black oil of death that Infection had obtained from Eight chose to spare you. Perhaps it would always be this way in the bloodline of Eight.
And yet- does this change things? The rift of the lands, the merging of light and dark and sister and brother – the cleansing of the magic in the land. Perhaps there would no longer be a “good” and “evil” – perhaps the monsters in our blood would finally stay boiled down to brittle bone. You are no longer an angel, and Eight is no longer a demon.
He sees you approach, braced against the harsh winter wind – it’s astonishing how real life feels when you are mortal. The magic has drained from you as well – the shimmering aura, the ability to walk into the land of the dead. Much like Eight, the atmosphere around you is different. There is no longer magic floating like light beams around you – you are simply Tiphon.
“Feels strange, does it not?” Also strange is how time can pass, years and thrones and raids and death – and yet grandfather and grandson remain the same. There were few ties the two of you had, few interactions (for life has deemed you both on a different path) – and yet there is no falsity in saying blood is thicker than water. There would never be a time to deny that no matter what, the connection between you two never frayed.
“That it has.” Eight’s eyes roamed the meadow about them – usually barren in the heart of winter, it is now thrumming with homeless equines. “Things seem to be starting to find a place, though.” He is, of course, talking about the recreation of the misted lands – the petitioning to rebuild a home, rebuild Beqanna.
And yet- does this change things? The rift of the lands, the merging of light and dark and sister and brother – the cleansing of the magic in the land. Perhaps there would no longer be a “good” and “evil” – perhaps the monsters in our blood would finally stay boiled down to brittle bone. You are no longer an angel, and Eight is no longer a demon.
He sees you approach, braced against the harsh winter wind – it’s astonishing how real life feels when you are mortal. The magic has drained from you as well – the shimmering aura, the ability to walk into the land of the dead. Much like Eight, the atmosphere around you is different. There is no longer magic floating like light beams around you – you are simply Tiphon.
“Feels strange, does it not?” Also strange is how time can pass, years and thrones and raids and death – and yet grandfather and grandson remain the same. There were few ties the two of you had, few interactions (for life has deemed you both on a different path) – and yet there is no falsity in saying blood is thicker than water. There would never be a time to deny that no matter what, the connection between you two never frayed.
“That it has.” Eight’s eyes roamed the meadow about them – usually barren in the heart of winter, it is now thrumming with homeless equines. “Things seem to be starting to find a place, though.” He is, of course, talking about the recreation of the misted lands – the petitioning to rebuild a home, rebuild Beqanna.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
@[Tiphon]