It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
Nothing hastened from the snow except its blinding, alabaster components, and he breathed the lingering chill in deep, mustering more semblances, more determination, more fortification, as he forged onward. A voice breaking over the wind surprised him though, because he hadn’t seen anything in the haze, and Zuriel’s sharpened senses permitted her to shift, turn, swivel her ears towards the nuance of inquiries and hesitated salutations. The beast paused too, monolithic endeavors pondering, wondering, if this was a guise, a ruse, a snare, some ancient, primordial beacon sent to coax travelers to deaths, some fabricated ghost along the breeze, or nothing disturbing altogether.
There was a certainty in his motions, in the impact of his stride, that foretold he’d likely be able to take care of any threat. How many times had he done so across similar plains and tundras? How many moments had he rushed across wild, wicked expanses, to drive his protection and prowess, potential and precision, pernicious persistence, into the ominous wake of another? With no amount of trepidation left in him, emboldened by the snow beneath his feet, by the vestiges of a world he had to know, had to understand, had to comprehend, he followed after Zuriel.
Together, they didn’t come upon a frost giant, ursur, or cannibal; but a young woman, seemingly attempting to make herself tiny, insignificant, in the ivory backdrop. He might’ve snorted at the scene, if she didn’t seem apprehensive. The unicorn took it upon herself to shake her head, and he gave her a significant look before the lofty reach of her cranium seemed all the more prideful. Turning back towards the figure, he noticed he recognized her – very briefly, from other events and moments scattered along Halo – and extended a gloved hand. “Hello.” A curious tilt of his own skull maneuvered thereafter. “Hester?” Recalling the name as best he could, the way she hadn’t enjoyed Loren’s antics and display (fair, because no one ever really did). “What brings you out here today?”
There was a certainty in his motions, in the impact of his stride, that foretold he’d likely be able to take care of any threat. How many times had he done so across similar plains and tundras? How many moments had he rushed across wild, wicked expanses, to drive his protection and prowess, potential and precision, pernicious persistence, into the ominous wake of another? With no amount of trepidation left in him, emboldened by the snow beneath his feet, by the vestiges of a world he had to know, had to understand, had to comprehend, he followed after Zuriel.
Together, they didn’t come upon a frost giant, ursur, or cannibal; but a young woman, seemingly attempting to make herself tiny, insignificant, in the ivory backdrop. He might’ve snorted at the scene, if she didn’t seem apprehensive. The unicorn took it upon herself to shake her head, and he gave her a significant look before the lofty reach of her cranium seemed all the more prideful. Turning back towards the figure, he noticed he recognized her – very briefly, from other events and moments scattered along Halo – and extended a gloved hand. “Hello.” A curious tilt of his own skull maneuvered thereafter. “Hester?” Recalling the name as best he could, the way she hadn’t enjoyed Loren’s antics and display (fair, because no one ever really did). “What brings you out here today?”
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
