12-10-2019, 09:54 AM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alex Brush|Assistant|Annie Use Your Telescope' rel='stylesheet'><style>.Leilancontainer {position:relative;width:500px;background-color:#0F0E12;border-radius:3px;border: 1px solid #dcf3ff;} .Leilanquote {position:relative;width:500px;top:10px;font-family:Annie Use Your Telescope;font-size:12pt;color:#AC5330;text-shadow:0px 0px 2px #FEFAFB;} .Leilanname {z-index:2;position:relative;top:623px;left:180px;font-family:'Alex Brush'; color:#dcf3ff;font-size:30pt;} .Leilanimg {position:relative;border-radius:5px;bottom:0px;} .Leilantext {position:relative;z-index:3;background-color:#0F0E12;width:460px;font-family:'Assistant';font-size:10pt;color:#FEFAFB;margin:30px 0px -95px 0px;} .Leilan-name-sub {position:relative;z-index:3;top:612px;left:155px;font-family:'Assistant';font-size:7pt;color:#FEFAFB;} </style><center><div class="Leilancontainer"><div class="Leilanquote"><i>We got older and I <font color=#dcf3ff>should have known</font><br>that I’d feel <font color=#dcf3ff>colder</font> when I walk alone</i></div><div class="Leilantext"> Saviours, hah – if only he knew, he might have a good laugh. Instead, he is dead serious; there’s something weird going on and he will want to see the end of it.
His fall down the temporary-iced waterfall is broken not by his landing anywhere, but by a change in the air. The vision, mirage, whatever one wants to call it, is gone in the blink of an eye, and he stands in the desert again.
He’s not back in the oasis, so something is off – or perhaps, the changes are to be called normal by now. After all this, how could he possibly know if what he sees and feels is even real? Inception is nothing compared to this; that had been a matter of counting the levels. But Leilan doesn’t know movies and doesn’t often linger in the dreamworld; if anything, he is still suspicious of everything he sees.
The new image is like a flashback. Distorted, visibly unrealistic. The mare he just found by the waterfall, the mare lost in the forest – or a younger version of them – here in the desert, accompanied by a much softer version of the palomino he’d left behind. Softer only for her. A lover. He doesn’t need to be told any of this, to know that they are together. Doesn’t need to have seen her before, doesn’t need to know about two other queens who had been lovers and ruled a kingdom together – he does know this, he has seen them before (in the forest, in the visions), of course – he sees what he saw a few years ago, sees what he lost and doesn’t need a reminder of.
A painful crack shoots through the icy layer he’d built around his heart; the layer that had been weakened by the fairy’s tasks, and by his adoptive daughter. He had loved her. Still did. He just didn’t want to live with the pain.
He turns away, thinking to leave altogether. But the voice returns, the knowledge that he is not done and must see this through.
Ice blue eyes deepen in colour; deep dark blue replaces it in the blur of being transported once again.
Back atop the waterfall, he momentarily looks close to crying, but he blinks those things away. His irises take on an icy rim, though the deep blue stays in their hearts when he addresses the black mare. ”There’s someone here to see you.” he tells her, his voice trying to hide his own pain, but still a little thick with emotion.
Of course she latches on to that. Snapped out of her own pain by another’s, she assesses him. And yet he looks away, breathing deep as if steadying himself. He ignores whatever questions she asks, and when he does look back to her he’s a wavering version of himself, held together by the ice he so clings to. She sees the fragility of it, probably, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he briskly starts to walk, expecting her to follow.
It’s only because Anatomy has nothing else to do, that she wants to know who he is talking about, and why he looks like he’s seen a ghost – well, altogether three possibly reasons, probably the pile of them stacked together – that makes her actually follow him.
The scaled, frosted roan however, says no more, and crosses through the portal, leaving it to her curiosity for her to follow. He doesn’t know what the portal does, though he suspects it will take her to her dead lover. Possibly, this means that she will die too, or this version of her anyway; he knows there is a very lively one roaming about the forest, and Beqanna probably doesn’t allow two of them to coexist.
And curiosity is what kills a cat, after all.</div><div class="Leilanname">Leilan</div><div class="Leilan-name-sub">no. 7 | ice forged in fire</div><img src="https://i.imgur.com/HJ5BtXG.jpg" class="Leilan-img"></div></center>
His fall down the temporary-iced waterfall is broken not by his landing anywhere, but by a change in the air. The vision, mirage, whatever one wants to call it, is gone in the blink of an eye, and he stands in the desert again.
He’s not back in the oasis, so something is off – or perhaps, the changes are to be called normal by now. After all this, how could he possibly know if what he sees and feels is even real? Inception is nothing compared to this; that had been a matter of counting the levels. But Leilan doesn’t know movies and doesn’t often linger in the dreamworld; if anything, he is still suspicious of everything he sees.
The new image is like a flashback. Distorted, visibly unrealistic. The mare he just found by the waterfall, the mare lost in the forest – or a younger version of them – here in the desert, accompanied by a much softer version of the palomino he’d left behind. Softer only for her. A lover. He doesn’t need to be told any of this, to know that they are together. Doesn’t need to have seen her before, doesn’t need to know about two other queens who had been lovers and ruled a kingdom together – he does know this, he has seen them before (in the forest, in the visions), of course – he sees what he saw a few years ago, sees what he lost and doesn’t need a reminder of.
A painful crack shoots through the icy layer he’d built around his heart; the layer that had been weakened by the fairy’s tasks, and by his adoptive daughter. He had loved her. Still did. He just didn’t want to live with the pain.
He turns away, thinking to leave altogether. But the voice returns, the knowledge that he is not done and must see this through.
Ice blue eyes deepen in colour; deep dark blue replaces it in the blur of being transported once again.
Back atop the waterfall, he momentarily looks close to crying, but he blinks those things away. His irises take on an icy rim, though the deep blue stays in their hearts when he addresses the black mare. ”There’s someone here to see you.” he tells her, his voice trying to hide his own pain, but still a little thick with emotion.
Of course she latches on to that. Snapped out of her own pain by another’s, she assesses him. And yet he looks away, breathing deep as if steadying himself. He ignores whatever questions she asks, and when he does look back to her he’s a wavering version of himself, held together by the ice he so clings to. She sees the fragility of it, probably, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he briskly starts to walk, expecting her to follow.
It’s only because Anatomy has nothing else to do, that she wants to know who he is talking about, and why he looks like he’s seen a ghost – well, altogether three possibly reasons, probably the pile of them stacked together – that makes her actually follow him.
The scaled, frosted roan however, says no more, and crosses through the portal, leaving it to her curiosity for her to follow. He doesn’t know what the portal does, though he suspects it will take her to her dead lover. Possibly, this means that she will die too, or this version of her anyway; he knows there is a very lively one roaming about the forest, and Beqanna probably doesn’t allow two of them to coexist.
And curiosity is what kills a cat, after all.</div><div class="Leilanname">Leilan</div><div class="Leilan-name-sub">no. 7 | ice forged in fire</div><img src="https://i.imgur.com/HJ5BtXG.jpg" class="Leilan-img"></div></center>
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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