Rainforest Cliffs
09-05-2017, 05:38 PM
like breaking diamonds with your hands
[ Sorry for the wait. :x Been busy and sick. ]
He was not thinking straight (—did he think at all?), but could you blame him? Could you, for one second, blame him for searching high and low, day and night, for the one thing that had kept him alive through so much misery?
The answer?
Yes. He was Mauja, fuck's sake, made of ice, heartless, a true being of frost and winter and control.
But all of that, gone. Washed away by years of suffering, loss, growth: coming to terms with the monster he had been, and the monster he had become. It mattered too much, two owls sitting quiet and accepting that he wanted, needed, to die, but disappointed all the same. Even in that moment, when Ophelia came lumbering towards him, they had loved him and been ready to go with him, even though they hadn't wanted to.
And now, poof, she was gone, like she didn't even fucking care, so he had to do all the caring for her, too.
So he stared wildly, too tired, too worried, to be sane, composed, controlled—or to even make sense. "Um. Is it right there?" the large, dark stallion asked, and Mauja pinned his ears and gritted his teeth in frustration. However, before he had any chance to somehow take it out on the other, or even yell his desperate denial of it, the stranger went on. Part of him was intensely grateful that there had been no need to explain I had two owls but I sort of lost one. It was...strange.
"White?" he whispered, brokenly, his voice raw and so painfully full of hope. He struggled to take a few steps closer, swaying dangerously, but at the same time, not quite looking like he was about to fall over. "How? Where?"
[ @Luminar ]
He was not thinking straight (—did he think at all?), but could you blame him? Could you, for one second, blame him for searching high and low, day and night, for the one thing that had kept him alive through so much misery?
The answer?
Yes. He was Mauja, fuck's sake, made of ice, heartless, a true being of frost and winter and control.
But all of that, gone. Washed away by years of suffering, loss, growth: coming to terms with the monster he had been, and the monster he had become. It mattered too much, two owls sitting quiet and accepting that he wanted, needed, to die, but disappointed all the same. Even in that moment, when Ophelia came lumbering towards him, they had loved him and been ready to go with him, even though they hadn't wanted to.
And now, poof, she was gone, like she didn't even fucking care, so he had to do all the caring for her, too.
So he stared wildly, too tired, too worried, to be sane, composed, controlled—or to even make sense. "Um. Is it right there?" the large, dark stallion asked, and Mauja pinned his ears and gritted his teeth in frustration. However, before he had any chance to somehow take it out on the other, or even yell his desperate denial of it, the stranger went on. Part of him was intensely grateful that there had been no need to explain I had two owls but I sort of lost one. It was...strange.
"White?" he whispered, brokenly, his voice raw and so painfully full of hope. He struggled to take a few steps closer, swaying dangerously, but at the same time, not quite looking like he was about to fall over. "How? Where?"
[ @Luminar ]
