Lonely shadows following me
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
The cold was a distant thing. So was the heat. In this borderline between frozen wasteland and blazing inferno, the temperature was almost pleasant. Snow thawed and froze around his knees. Melted by the fire. Solidified by the brutal climate.
Time was a distant thing too. It had ceased to matter. Who could say how long he howled out his grief to the uncaring stars? Who kept track? Safrin was busy elsewhere. Vi never showed his face in these parts. Mort only waited, with open arms, and somewhere, he thought Ludo and Eirachi might be rolling dice over the outcome of this day. A point to each if he wound up dead. Two if he dragged someone else down with him. A new round if he lived. Rae stood judge over the game, content to merely watch. Frey had grown bored a long time ago, and Caido slept.
The gods didn't care. He didn't care either. No one else should. So why did they pretend? It would make no difference whatsoever if he lived or died and he had no wish to continue to drudge on in this pointless existence. Weaver... Gods, she was gone. What could possibly be worth seeing or doing or feeling without her there to witness it?
"Why did you stop me? Why!?" he demanded of Loren, between the broken sobs. "There is no use, just let me go..." They were not friends. Not family. They had no history or ties. Just a debt that couldn't have been more empty and pointless in this moment.
Time was a distant thing too. It had ceased to matter. Who could say how long he howled out his grief to the uncaring stars? Who kept track? Safrin was busy elsewhere. Vi never showed his face in these parts. Mort only waited, with open arms, and somewhere, he thought Ludo and Eirachi might be rolling dice over the outcome of this day. A point to each if he wound up dead. Two if he dragged someone else down with him. A new round if he lived. Rae stood judge over the game, content to merely watch. Frey had grown bored a long time ago, and Caido slept.
The gods didn't care. He didn't care either. No one else should. So why did they pretend? It would make no difference whatsoever if he lived or died and he had no wish to continue to drudge on in this pointless existence. Weaver... Gods, she was gone. What could possibly be worth seeing or doing or feeling without her there to witness it?
"Why did you stop me? Why!?" he demanded of Loren, between the broken sobs. "There is no use, just let me go..." They were not friends. Not family. They had no history or ties. Just a debt that couldn't have been more empty and pointless in this moment.
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
