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Lost in frozen silence - Noah - 12-15-2024
He tried to attack. He struck out with arrows of celestial light, but they missed the dragon. He saw Cordelia’s body, clamped and screaming in the dragon’s claws. Images of Weaver flashed in his mind, memories of Nate’s dragon claws digging in to his hide, and he screamed.
But then, there was darkness.
Had Noah been another man — perhaps the attuned he once was — he would’ve been dead.
But he was Vi’s, and no ice claimed his heart. Yet he still lay still, unconscious, in the shadow of the Greenwing’s trees.
Noah jolted awake, the biting cold seeping through his battered body. His breath came in shallow, icy puffs, the arctic forest of the Greenwing surrounding him in an eerie stillness. Snow drifted lightly from the darkened sky above, landing softly on the tattered remnants of his cloak. His head throbbed as fragments of memory surged—the beat of dragon wings, Cordelia’s voice, and then… darkness.
His chest tightened as he sat up too fast, a sharp pain lancing through his ribs. He pressed a trembling hand to his side, finding a raw, open wound from the impact of the dragon’s tail against his ribs. Panic clawed at him as his eyes darted around the desolate clearing, searching for any sign of her.
[say]“Cordelia!”[/say] he called, his voice breaking against the emptiness. Pain surged through his body and he doubled over again in the snow. The snow swallowed his words, leaving only silence. His heart thundered as he scrambled to his feet, each movement a fresh wave of agony. Tracks crisscrossed the snow, but hers—hers weren’t among them. He staggered forward, calling her name again, desperation fueling his every step. He couldn’t even think of healing himself. All he could think of was finding her, saving her, killing the dragon.
[SAY]”DELIA![/say] He called—but it was cut short with a cough, of blood dripping from his mouth, and of him falling and smashing his face into the dark, cold dirt and snow.
A broken sob escaped him, his anguish rising into the indifferent arctic sky. He screamed. Birds retreated from their roosts, hares and small game fleeing from their covers. Then everything again went still and silent.
And he teleported.
He appeared outside the lodge, holding himself as he swayed on his knees. Vi’dore was there immediately, horn sinking down to heal. The demigod clung to the unicorn’s head, each eave of healing bringing a new hell to his mind.
Noah stood in the quiet stillness of the lodge, every corner steeped in her absence. The world felt heavier, quieter—like it too mourned her loss. He ran his fingers over the back of the chair where she used to sit, her laughter once filling the space like sunlight. Now, it was just him and the silence, an unbearable reminder that Cordelia was gone. His children were in their beds, and he couldn’t bring himself to wake them — not yet.
His chest ached, a deep, unrelenting throb that no amount of tears could ease. She had been his compass, his anchor. The half of his soul he could never imagine living without. Yet, here he stood, shattered and lost — alone.
Tears stung his eyes and threatened to spill over his eyelashes onto the back of her chair. [say]Vi,[/say] he prayed silently, [say]help me.[/say]
RE: Lost in frozen silence - Marcus - 12-17-2024
Marcus woke to a low, rumbling huff by his ear, followed by the heavy thud of talons on the wooden floor. He blinked groggily, squinting through the dark until a pair of golden eyes gleamed back at him. Eira lifted her beak and nudged his shoulder insistently.
Marcus mumbled, incoherent as sleep threatened to reach for him again. Throwing the blankets off with a grunt, he twisted himself out of bed. Eira then turned to Margot, working harder to wake the young girl. His bare feet hit the cold floor as he stumbled upright, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Marcus wondered if his parents were home early as the edges of his mind started to focus, his steps uneven as the dregs of sleep clung to him. The lodge was quiet, save for the soft creak of floorboards beneath his weight. He stepped into the sitting room, and the warmth of the fireplace hit him like a wall.
There, bathed in the flickering orange glow of the firelight, stood his father. His silhouette was sharp against the crackling flames, shoulders broad and posture still. For a moment, Marcus hesitated, feeling small in the quiet intensity of the scene--seeing there the Sentinel of the North, wrapped in the presence of the Forsaken. [say]"Dad?"[/say] Marcus' voice asked, unsure, his hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The evidence of the hour was on his voice in the way it crackled and croaked. [say]"Eira woke us up."[/say] He said, just as the griffin rubbed against his leg and Margot stumbled down the hall behind him.