05-11-2015, 11:41 PM
and death shall have no
DOMINION
Dominion was no follower of the dark god, neither of his blood nor even of the land that had borne him. She had no touch of the power that flowed through his veins. There was nothing extraordinary about her, no reason his summons should reach her. Except, perhaps, that she was so well acquainted with the way the world was always only ever ending. Who better than Dom, then, to find someone at the end of the world? Perhaps that was why she found herself standing in a place she had never seen, before a man she had never met.
Time had stolen the color from his coat, leaving behind an endless grey. He was smaller than she would have expected from a god, though the goddess of the raging sea had been no giant herself. There was a lean grace to his form, something in the lines of his face, the arch of his neck, the curve of his body that looked familiar to eyes gradually becoming accustomed to the look of the locals. His blood ran strong in the people of this land. How many traced their lineage back to him? And still, he needed them to do his dirty work.
How like the strong, to send those less powerful when lives could be lost. When risk was great, those who had the most to lose clung tight to the pretense of security and sent those they deemed disposable in their wake. Well. What the hell? She’d survived the end of the world a few times before. What was one more? “I might. But what do I get out of it?”
Time had stolen the color from his coat, leaving behind an endless grey. He was smaller than she would have expected from a god, though the goddess of the raging sea had been no giant herself. There was a lean grace to his form, something in the lines of his face, the arch of his neck, the curve of his body that looked familiar to eyes gradually becoming accustomed to the look of the locals. His blood ran strong in the people of this land. How many traced their lineage back to him? And still, he needed them to do his dirty work.
How like the strong, to send those less powerful when lives could be lost. When risk was great, those who had the most to lose clung tight to the pretense of security and sent those they deemed disposable in their wake. Well. What the hell? She’d survived the end of the world a few times before. What was one more? “I might. But what do I get out of it?”
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;