this is the reckoning
He ran.
Freedom and liberation in the semblance of cold, frigid air billowing across fur – ferocious angles on glacier tips, ice melding and molding beneath paws, and it was the epitome of deliverance. A providential spree as long limbs gallivanted and Belial hooted somewhere nearby, Zuriel following close at hand, becoming bonded mercenaries on their plunge into independence. At some point it was purpose driven, but not initially, when the gales swept downward from the summits and he could be lost in the desolate thicket of memories – from years and lives ago – to now, heralding nothing more than a long, illustrious, triumphant howl.
Eventually they pressed and slowed upon the Sea of Glass, where his eyes ghosted over the range of frozen bubbles – delicate, fragile. He neared, but didn’t touch, nose drifting downward, instead opting for silent apologies to a shrine – a reason precise and clear but never vocalized, before threading his way towards where there must’ve been cracks months and seasons ago. Where an ancient creature had been mauled. Where a battle had taken place. Where a relic had been found – but now it was just endless white upon white, and his Stygian figure stood out along its surface.
Freedom and liberation in the semblance of cold, frigid air billowing across fur – ferocious angles on glacier tips, ice melding and molding beneath paws, and it was the epitome of deliverance. A providential spree as long limbs gallivanted and Belial hooted somewhere nearby, Zuriel following close at hand, becoming bonded mercenaries on their plunge into independence. At some point it was purpose driven, but not initially, when the gales swept downward from the summits and he could be lost in the desolate thicket of memories – from years and lives ago – to now, heralding nothing more than a long, illustrious, triumphant howl.
Eventually they pressed and slowed upon the Sea of Glass, where his eyes ghosted over the range of frozen bubbles – delicate, fragile. He neared, but didn’t touch, nose drifting downward, instead opting for silent apologies to a shrine – a reason precise and clear but never vocalized, before threading his way towards where there must’ve been cracks months and seasons ago. Where an ancient creature had been mauled. Where a battle had taken place. Where a relic had been found – but now it was just endless white upon white, and his Stygian figure stood out along its surface.
DEIMOS
