07-17-2017, 09:30 PM
you can have my isolation,
you can have the hate that it brings.
you can have the hate that it brings.
It was his own plea and his own declaration of a bared heart and open mind that had stirred the birth of the volcanic island, that had revealed itself to him. Perhaps, it is for that reason that he is so bound to it – perhaps it is the reason for why it is as much his own as the icy tundra had ever been. In the aftermath of the reckoning wrought by forces unseen, he had seen the error of his own way, and he longed for a place where he and those he had come to know and care so deeply could rest their weary bones. It had grown, since then, but time had no effect on the gravity of that deep, unshakable feeling of displacement, of loss, of desperation.
He would do anything, everything, to keep the volcanic island afloat – to keep it from falling away into the sea. He would give his strength, his power, his life, if it meant never having to feel such loss again.
Ah, but he is meant for loss – and with a lifetime of wandering, death, and despair, he had never known anything but. The frigid tundra had given him purpose, brotherhood – it had given him companionship, which he had forced himself to abstain from for many decades. Time had been unkind to him, and it had taken the love and life from his meaningless existence, again and again. Yet, in the brotherhood, his resolve had hardened, and his drive and determination had returned to him.
He felt confident and whole for the first time in so many years, and Hurricane is a reminder of all that he had been, all that he had become – and to see him before him, to see him wading through the salty brine of the sea towards the shoreline of the volcanic isle is enough to stir his heart into a ragged frenzy, pounding vigorously against the ridges of his ribcage.
He is far from emotive - perhaps that is something they have in common; a difficulty with expressing oneself; it had caused himself so much heartache, and continued to do so - but he can see the coiled tension of his muscular shoulders become undone, and he can feel the friction in the air dissipate.
Brother.
Oh, how he had missed hearing that singular, immensely powerful word.
”Then wander no more. The borders of Tephra will always be open for you. I know that it is not the same,” he can sense the longing and yearning for something lost to them forever. He felt the same way for so long. At times, he still does, when the heat is unbearable and the sulfur is thick. ”but it is home nonetheless.”
All the while, the fire within him burns with a ferocity he has never known and he flinches – a delicate tendril of unseen magic extending itself from the chest of the man before him, stoking the flickering flames inside his own, crafting a wonder much bigger than either of them. But he ignores it. Stifles it.
Swallows it whole.
The fire had never been kind to him before. What reason did he have to be alarmed?
He would do anything, everything, to keep the volcanic island afloat – to keep it from falling away into the sea. He would give his strength, his power, his life, if it meant never having to feel such loss again.
Ah, but he is meant for loss – and with a lifetime of wandering, death, and despair, he had never known anything but. The frigid tundra had given him purpose, brotherhood – it had given him companionship, which he had forced himself to abstain from for many decades. Time had been unkind to him, and it had taken the love and life from his meaningless existence, again and again. Yet, in the brotherhood, his resolve had hardened, and his drive and determination had returned to him.
He felt confident and whole for the first time in so many years, and Hurricane is a reminder of all that he had been, all that he had become – and to see him before him, to see him wading through the salty brine of the sea towards the shoreline of the volcanic isle is enough to stir his heart into a ragged frenzy, pounding vigorously against the ridges of his ribcage.
He is far from emotive - perhaps that is something they have in common; a difficulty with expressing oneself; it had caused himself so much heartache, and continued to do so - but he can see the coiled tension of his muscular shoulders become undone, and he can feel the friction in the air dissipate.
Brother.
Oh, how he had missed hearing that singular, immensely powerful word.
”Then wander no more. The borders of Tephra will always be open for you. I know that it is not the same,” he can sense the longing and yearning for something lost to them forever. He felt the same way for so long. At times, he still does, when the heat is unbearable and the sulfur is thick. ”but it is home nonetheless.”
All the while, the fire within him burns with a ferocity he has never known and he flinches – a delicate tendril of unseen magic extending itself from the chest of the man before him, stoking the flickering flames inside his own, crafting a wonder much bigger than either of them. But he ignores it. Stifles it.
Swallows it whole.
The fire had never been kind to him before. What reason did he have to be alarmed?
you can have my absence of faith,
you can have my everything.
you can have my everything.
OFFSPRING