August 16, 2019, 05:24 PM
(This post was last modified: August 16, 2019, 05:27 PM by Vercingetorix.)
dated August 2
Thuringwethil. Ephraim. Blixen. Dacio. Tux. Opalia. Blodreina. Reyes. Illidan. Aurëwen. Isilmë. Dragomir.
As Vercingetorix stood within the heart of the hot springs, the names of all those he had failed rose up like the steam around him. Some he'd let down only mildly, others grievously. At least one was dead, and one had nearly perished -- and both of those incidents were definitely his fault.
Thuringwethil. Ephraim. Blixen. Dacio. Tux. Opalia. Blodreina. Reyes. Illidan. Aurëwen. Isilmë. Dragomir.
Could he go back and change any of it? No. He couldn't resurrect Heda, he couldn't snatch Drago from the jaws of horror, he couldn't erase the fact that he was a traitor to his birthplace and his kin.
What he did next, however, was in his power.
Thuringwethil. Ephraim. Blixen.
As cheka to his children, he should hunt Dragomir's kidnappers to the ends of the earth, not stopping until they lay dead at his paws -- or until he himself breathed no more.
Dacio. Tux. Opalia.
But as cheka to his children, who still lived and breathed, shouldn't he stay? Shouldn't he be there for them, in good times and in bad, and those devils be damned? He could always watch for them, after all. . .and if they came within a country mile of his pups, he'd slaughter them without hesitation.
Blodreina. Reyes. Illidan.
Vercingetorix was a warrior, a berserker, a man that wrought chaos wherever he went and left it behind. He had been taught to attack first and ask questions later; he was prone to snide remarks against his better judgment, and acting and speaking before thinking.
It only made sense to look for Dragomir's torturers. It was all he knew how to do, in this moment.
Aurëwen. Isilmë. Dragomir.
And yet. . .
"Just stay. Don't leave me again."
Above everything -- the pounding of his heart, the rush of hot blood, the cacophony of violent thoughts and words and memories -- was his son's voice, murmured and minute. Above every instinct to go forth and destroy, something tugged at his hocks, pulling him backward.
Isilmë. Dragomir.
"Just stay. Don't leave me again."
Dragomir.
Fuck it,Vercingetorix said aloud, and turned around, padding toward Whitefish River and his children.
Common · Trigedasleng
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