They outnumbered the stranger, and it comforted her in terms of safety, but the snow empress had no wish to see any harm come to any of the wolves gathered, and her lips remained sealed - best to let her king speak for now, when tensions became thick; perhaps on another day she might have stepped up to take lead, but no, not today. The dismal clouds of grey had coated not only the sky, but her mind, and it had taken but a few heartbeats of wintry silence for her to come to a realization... the next wave was coming. It would be upon her soon (why did it always infiltrate her skull at the most inconvenient of times?).
Frequently that was how her attitude shifted, in rolling waves, like the oceans that rippled and dived toward the shore; depression was familiar to the ivory woman, but she had not allowed to word to slip from her muzzle, not to anybody, even Cry. It was unpredictable. He knew of some of her sorrows, but did he know the inner turmoil of her doubts, her fears? The crumbling stone walls of her stability? The loneliness that screamed from the depths of her chest and forced from her throat as choked sobs to the sky. Dispair. It lingered like a shadow behind her steps, digging into her heels and tracing her every thought - she had never told anybody. Perhaps because she could not bear to feel the bitterness on her tongue, like ash coating her teeth and filling her lungs with soot, or perhaps because speaking of her heartache aloud would sharpen it, spilling into the polar wind and whipping like a snowstorm out of her mouth, words she couldn't stop, words that shouldn't be, words, words, so many words, too many words-
...silence. It was better that way, wasn't it?
Now was not the time. Cold air sliced through her mind's downward plunge, and her attention snapped to the present - she could not let it out. In her moments of solitude she had had plenty of time to break down in front of the stars, the ever-watching audience who did not judge the tears that tumbled down her cheeks. There was much she had left unsaid, overcome by the thrill of seeing him again... Cerulean eyes flicked between the darkness of Cry (though her heart marvelled at the luminescence of his eyes) and the silver of the stranger, before spinning to peer at the girlish figure of Phex approaching them. Gwen felt a stab of guilt, but also a meek flicker of hope, like a struggling flame in the night's curtain of black. At least she had Cry and Phex. She could only pray that her mind would not shatter at a time when they really needed her strength, for life was tough and she could never predict the coming seconds, what lingered at each corner and loop in each passing moon, the unwritten story.
She awaited the response of the lone traveller, pale ears twitching at the icy caress of wind. Hold it together, for yourself, and for them. You must be strong. Breathe.
Frequently that was how her attitude shifted, in rolling waves, like the oceans that rippled and dived toward the shore; depression was familiar to the ivory woman, but she had not allowed to word to slip from her muzzle, not to anybody, even Cry. It was unpredictable. He knew of some of her sorrows, but did he know the inner turmoil of her doubts, her fears? The crumbling stone walls of her stability? The loneliness that screamed from the depths of her chest and forced from her throat as choked sobs to the sky. Dispair. It lingered like a shadow behind her steps, digging into her heels and tracing her every thought - she had never told anybody. Perhaps because she could not bear to feel the bitterness on her tongue, like ash coating her teeth and filling her lungs with soot, or perhaps because speaking of her heartache aloud would sharpen it, spilling into the polar wind and whipping like a snowstorm out of her mouth, words she couldn't stop, words that shouldn't be, words, words, so many words, too many words-
...silence. It was better that way, wasn't it?
Now was not the time. Cold air sliced through her mind's downward plunge, and her attention snapped to the present - she could not let it out. In her moments of solitude she had had plenty of time to break down in front of the stars, the ever-watching audience who did not judge the tears that tumbled down her cheeks. There was much she had left unsaid, overcome by the thrill of seeing him again... Cerulean eyes flicked between the darkness of Cry (though her heart marvelled at the luminescence of his eyes) and the silver of the stranger, before spinning to peer at the girlish figure of Phex approaching them. Gwen felt a stab of guilt, but also a meek flicker of hope, like a struggling flame in the night's curtain of black. At least she had Cry and Phex. She could only pray that her mind would not shatter at a time when they really needed her strength, for life was tough and she could never predict the coming seconds, what lingered at each corner and loop in each passing moon, the unwritten story.
She awaited the response of the lone traveller, pale ears twitching at the icy caress of wind. Hold it together, for yourself, and for them. You must be strong. Breathe.
![[Image: 8rXo9x9.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/8rXo9x9.gif)
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Messages In This Thread
patron saint of lightening bolts - by Tyr - December 06, 2018, 04:14 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Cry - December 08, 2018, 01:04 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Gwen - December 08, 2018, 01:38 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Sacnite - December 08, 2018, 03:51 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Tyr - December 08, 2018, 06:12 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Cry - December 10, 2018, 02:02 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Gwen - December 14, 2018, 03:45 PM
RE: patron saint of lightening bolts - by Sacnite - December 14, 2018, 04:19 PM