Uwaritace
06-19-2018, 03:23 PM
His sides rose and fell to his quiet breaths—steady in the dark, despite the ache always threatening to pull a groan from his mouth. It was both worse and not; Hope's arrival had done something for the Rift, but he could still feel it bleed, a weight and judgment upon his shoulders.
He had failed. He had destroyed Helovia out of a desire for revenge and a desperate hope for salvation, but the vengeance no longer tasted sweet and he had not achieved what he had set out to do.
A failure. He did not do well with those.
Yet it was under this tree that Zekle had woken something in him; it was under this tree that he had laid his plans for a ritual to appease them (and prove that the dead better remain dead). And now it was here that some uncomfortable things were thrust at him again. Was it better to have your home destroyed—like Helovia—than have it still there, but out of reach?
While he could never have picked that course of action in reality, it begged the question nonetheless: would it have been better, had he let the Rift bleed out and die?
Saving it seemed hopeless, anyway. Nothing he'd tried had worked.
"And you are okay with that?" he found himself asking, his long tail twisting behind him, matted fur sweeping the blades of grass. "And with being here?"
Oh, it was fragile, and dangerous, the painful, tentative hope of the beast.
He had failed. He had destroyed Helovia out of a desire for revenge and a desperate hope for salvation, but the vengeance no longer tasted sweet and he had not achieved what he had set out to do.
A failure. He did not do well with those.
Yet it was under this tree that Zekle had woken something in him; it was under this tree that he had laid his plans for a ritual to appease them (and prove that the dead better remain dead). And now it was here that some uncomfortable things were thrust at him again. Was it better to have your home destroyed—like Helovia—than have it still there, but out of reach?
While he could never have picked that course of action in reality, it begged the question nonetheless: would it have been better, had he let the Rift bleed out and die?
Saving it seemed hopeless, anyway. Nothing he'd tried had worked.
"And you are okay with that?" he found himself asking, his long tail twisting behind him, matted fur sweeping the blades of grass. "And with being here?"
Oh, it was fragile, and dangerous, the painful, tentative hope of the beast.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
