Moonsong Glacier lamenting

living on a glacier.

There was nothing here except for him. He knew it now, having spent the past few days exploring. It was the perfect place to hide out. The perfect place to start over, where there was only emptiness and cold. Nobody to disappoint and nobody to be disappointed with. Revui was a solitary grey blemish on the pristine surface of the glacier. That was alright. It was what he deserved.

He indulges his sorrow for a few hours every day. In donning a stoic's mask he protects himself from thoughts of the mountain, his sister, or the red string that has anchored him until this point to his family; this bloodline, severed in the best way he can manage. Hydra will not look for him here—he doubts she will look at all, or ever think of him again.

It isn't all ice, here. There are sections of exposed slag that grow heartier each summer as the temperatures rise and the sheet melts. He doesn't know that part, but after finding a few obelisks scattered like golem bones among the snow, he is intrigued. It is a nice distraction from the thoughts he's trying to avoid.

There are descension points pock-marking the thinner areas of the glacier. These are full of meltwater. He names the largest one, Rikudou in his head, after his mother. It is odd, staring down at the surface—the water itself is the color of her eyes, from what he can remember of her face, and there are no trees to reflect back around the edge.

He strides along the fringe of the lake, seeking out one of the stones of the knobby piles of debris not crusted with ice, and tips it in. The ripples grow and spread, and then there is more stillness. He sighs, turns away, and continues his exploration.