05-23-2016, 12:38 AM
BROTHER, LET ME BE YOUR FORTRESS, WHEN THE NIGHT WINDS ARE DRIVING ON.
I CAN BE THE ONE TO LIGHT YOUR WAY; I WILL BRING YOU HOME.
He is filled with hot, unadulterated rage. A fierce surge of ferocity bloods through his veins as he paces a thin line across the barren landscape of the ground beneath him, his hefty prints firmly displacing the soil, pebble and layer of frost that now encases the ground in the thick of night. He exhales heavily, his breath fraught with anxiety as a heavy puff of air lingers before him. The temperature has long since dropped, and it is only a matter of time until their bitter autumn turns into a frigid winter - and he worries. Beneath his steely exterior of anger and angst is the weight and burden of concern that had settled in mere hours upon realizing that he had become very, very much alone.
Gone were his sons, both delicate in their own ways - and gone was the warmth of his lover, who was now so heavy with child and so late in term. She was overdue, this he knew - this birth had not come as early as the others had, and it put her in a terrible position of danger, and the welfare of their child surely depended on how soon he or she would emerge from her womb. She had been so swollen when he had seen her last, when he had attempted to soothe her woes and anxieties with his whiskered kisses in the dead of night - but it hadn't been enough. It was never enough. There would always be a seed of doubt deep within her mind; there would always be a piece of her that could never belong to him, and it is this knowledge that feeds into his bitter rage.
When he realizes she has gone, that she has taken her two small sons with her, he is inconsolable. He knows of the dangers that lurk within the thick mountain lining beyond their borders. He knows of the wicked weather that threatens so slightly to appear at any moment, to blanket them in frost and tight, brutal winds, leaving them exposed to the elements - to the dangers of the night. His fiery eyes burn with fury when he sees his daughters, Lieschel and Maribel, concerned and worried - and what would he say if she were to never return? If their precious Argo and Neverwas were lost to the world, to the harsh realities of life?
It is so simple, so easy to forget how dangerous life can be. Their secure border and tight watch leave their lands barren not only of strangers, but of more earthly dangers. The caves protect them from the unkind winds, from the thick layers of snow that envelope them each winter. The walls protect them from the lurking, peering eyes of predators, which so surely crave the wet, hot blood and ripe flesh of a young life, or perhaps a rounded, swollen womb - open for shredding, for tearing. The stillness of the icy flatland leave those who linger behind that very same icy wall into a false sense of security, but nothing in life is ever certain. Nothing in life is ever safe.
And now, she is gone. And he waits.
He knows where she has gone. She thinks that he is unaware, that he hasn't a clue, but he can smell the warm stench of burnt wood each and every time she disappears from him. He knows that she goes to family, and this, he does not mind - he would never stop her, nor has he ever - but this time, she has gone too far. A whipping wind soars through the canyon as he peers anxiously into the pitch blackness of night, though the sun has begun to rise and will soon blanket them in its warm light - but for now, there is nothing but dawn and his fiery, red hot gaze set upon her as she pushes past the threshold of their boundary line.
His heart aches immediately. Searing relief, unwavering love and flooding anger washes over him as if it were a drenching rain, his eyes following as his sons limp and weakly move towards a nearby cave. He sees Neverwas, with thick streams of drying blood along his leg, and Argo, nearly untouched but exhausted, broken, close to collapsing. He sees a small female accompany them, her sweet doe eyes meeting with his for the briefest moment, and he realizes with a heavy anguish that strangles his too-big heart that she is his - that she has been birthed from Isle's now empty womb, their resemblance unmistakable. He aches, now, wanting to move towards her, wanting to touch her and to touch their sons and to ensure that they are more than a mirage - but he doesn't.
As they disappear into a cave for comfort, warmth and rest, his gaze turns again to his sweet Isle, though her presence has left nothing but a bitter, acrid flavor in his mouth. He watches her carefully, observing her and inhaling the thick stench of metallic copper as he stares intently at the flap of flesh that hangs from her, revealing too much of his perfect beauty's internal structure. Again, he surges with rage. His bites his tongue and waits for her to speak, and though he would love to move to her aid, to use his immense power of ice to mend her wounds as he knows he can - he cannot bear to touch her now. He cannot bear to look her in the eye. He cannot bear to listen to her self-pitying mess.
"You deliberately disobey me, long after you are due - you wander off in the dead of night, when I have gone off to find you sustenance, to bring you what foliage I can, and with you, you take our sons. You disappear, without a word, and leave me to wonder. You have endangered not only yourself, but the lives of our children," His rumbling baritone rises, though he fights to steady it, he undeniably fails. "and you have the audacity to come to me, to pity yourself in this time - and that is all that you have to say? That you are no good for this family?"
His breathing is heavy, and his heart aches heavily within his chest. He is filled with anger, but also doubt. How could he have thought he could keep her satisfied? Happy? She is anything but; a fragile wreck that he has only managed to soothe with brief lustful meetings and gentle promises she apparently cares little for. She does not need him; he is not even certain that she loves him. Her actions show otherwise - untrusting of him, too frightened to speak of her fears and tell him of her desires. He cannot know if she will not tell him, and her unsettling method of betraying him and moving beneath the blanket of darkness to get away from him tells him so much more than her pathetic, broken words ever could.
"You have hurt me deeply this time, Isle. Evidently, I was right - you were unprepared. Look at you," He whispers, his resolve breaking but only for a small moment. His fury returns. "you are bloodied, you are injured, and for what? And you have given birth outside of our walls, you have ENDANGERED our children. If you had told me you would hide away into the night, that you would simply disregard everything that I said to you - then I would have come with you, in the very least, to protect you. To ensure that you were not simply shreds when you return."
He is quiet now, his cheek turned, unable to look at her. He aches to draw her near, to love her, to affectionately heal her, but he cannot. White hot pain sears through his heart, and he realizes then that pain lingering behind his crimson gaze are tears that threaten to fall. Disappointment, anguish and hurt flood him again.
"You have disrespected me for the very last time. If you wish to remain a wanderer, if you wish to live your life with one hoof outside of that gate - why do you stay?" He does not mean it, but he cannot help but to say it. "Nothing I say, nothing I have done for you has been good enough. It never will be."
This he knows, with the entirety of his being. He will never be enough.
He has never been enough.
And finally, a whisper.
"I thought I'd lost you."
Gone were his sons, both delicate in their own ways - and gone was the warmth of his lover, who was now so heavy with child and so late in term. She was overdue, this he knew - this birth had not come as early as the others had, and it put her in a terrible position of danger, and the welfare of their child surely depended on how soon he or she would emerge from her womb. She had been so swollen when he had seen her last, when he had attempted to soothe her woes and anxieties with his whiskered kisses in the dead of night - but it hadn't been enough. It was never enough. There would always be a seed of doubt deep within her mind; there would always be a piece of her that could never belong to him, and it is this knowledge that feeds into his bitter rage.
When he realizes she has gone, that she has taken her two small sons with her, he is inconsolable. He knows of the dangers that lurk within the thick mountain lining beyond their borders. He knows of the wicked weather that threatens so slightly to appear at any moment, to blanket them in frost and tight, brutal winds, leaving them exposed to the elements - to the dangers of the night. His fiery eyes burn with fury when he sees his daughters, Lieschel and Maribel, concerned and worried - and what would he say if she were to never return? If their precious Argo and Neverwas were lost to the world, to the harsh realities of life?
It is so simple, so easy to forget how dangerous life can be. Their secure border and tight watch leave their lands barren not only of strangers, but of more earthly dangers. The caves protect them from the unkind winds, from the thick layers of snow that envelope them each winter. The walls protect them from the lurking, peering eyes of predators, which so surely crave the wet, hot blood and ripe flesh of a young life, or perhaps a rounded, swollen womb - open for shredding, for tearing. The stillness of the icy flatland leave those who linger behind that very same icy wall into a false sense of security, but nothing in life is ever certain. Nothing in life is ever safe.
And now, she is gone. And he waits.
He knows where she has gone. She thinks that he is unaware, that he hasn't a clue, but he can smell the warm stench of burnt wood each and every time she disappears from him. He knows that she goes to family, and this, he does not mind - he would never stop her, nor has he ever - but this time, she has gone too far. A whipping wind soars through the canyon as he peers anxiously into the pitch blackness of night, though the sun has begun to rise and will soon blanket them in its warm light - but for now, there is nothing but dawn and his fiery, red hot gaze set upon her as she pushes past the threshold of their boundary line.
His heart aches immediately. Searing relief, unwavering love and flooding anger washes over him as if it were a drenching rain, his eyes following as his sons limp and weakly move towards a nearby cave. He sees Neverwas, with thick streams of drying blood along his leg, and Argo, nearly untouched but exhausted, broken, close to collapsing. He sees a small female accompany them, her sweet doe eyes meeting with his for the briefest moment, and he realizes with a heavy anguish that strangles his too-big heart that she is his - that she has been birthed from Isle's now empty womb, their resemblance unmistakable. He aches, now, wanting to move towards her, wanting to touch her and to touch their sons and to ensure that they are more than a mirage - but he doesn't.
As they disappear into a cave for comfort, warmth and rest, his gaze turns again to his sweet Isle, though her presence has left nothing but a bitter, acrid flavor in his mouth. He watches her carefully, observing her and inhaling the thick stench of metallic copper as he stares intently at the flap of flesh that hangs from her, revealing too much of his perfect beauty's internal structure. Again, he surges with rage. His bites his tongue and waits for her to speak, and though he would love to move to her aid, to use his immense power of ice to mend her wounds as he knows he can - he cannot bear to touch her now. He cannot bear to look her in the eye. He cannot bear to listen to her self-pitying mess.
"You deliberately disobey me, long after you are due - you wander off in the dead of night, when I have gone off to find you sustenance, to bring you what foliage I can, and with you, you take our sons. You disappear, without a word, and leave me to wonder. You have endangered not only yourself, but the lives of our children," His rumbling baritone rises, though he fights to steady it, he undeniably fails. "and you have the audacity to come to me, to pity yourself in this time - and that is all that you have to say? That you are no good for this family?"
His breathing is heavy, and his heart aches heavily within his chest. He is filled with anger, but also doubt. How could he have thought he could keep her satisfied? Happy? She is anything but; a fragile wreck that he has only managed to soothe with brief lustful meetings and gentle promises she apparently cares little for. She does not need him; he is not even certain that she loves him. Her actions show otherwise - untrusting of him, too frightened to speak of her fears and tell him of her desires. He cannot know if she will not tell him, and her unsettling method of betraying him and moving beneath the blanket of darkness to get away from him tells him so much more than her pathetic, broken words ever could.
"You have hurt me deeply this time, Isle. Evidently, I was right - you were unprepared. Look at you," He whispers, his resolve breaking but only for a small moment. His fury returns. "you are bloodied, you are injured, and for what? And you have given birth outside of our walls, you have ENDANGERED our children. If you had told me you would hide away into the night, that you would simply disregard everything that I said to you - then I would have come with you, in the very least, to protect you. To ensure that you were not simply shreds when you return."
He is quiet now, his cheek turned, unable to look at her. He aches to draw her near, to love her, to affectionately heal her, but he cannot. White hot pain sears through his heart, and he realizes then that pain lingering behind his crimson gaze are tears that threaten to fall. Disappointment, anguish and hurt flood him again.
"You have disrespected me for the very last time. If you wish to remain a wanderer, if you wish to live your life with one hoof outside of that gate - why do you stay?" He does not mean it, but he cannot help but to say it. "Nothing I say, nothing I have done for you has been good enough. It never will be."
This he knows, with the entirety of his being. He will never be enough.
He has never been enough.
And finally, a whisper.
"I thought I'd lost you."
OFFSPRING
the ice king of the tundra