Northstar Vale das gericht

happy 1k posts ;a;

Somewhere within Stormcloak, far, far away, there was something that fractured crisp and clear and clean; like frost within the fairylight whose gleam had now begun to diminish.

Had it not been she to reawaken and remake him?
Why must this enlivenment of him never be enough?
Which god had seen it righteous in making a soul so unending in love when such had never been returned?

​It is endless and dark and distant and high, here, and she does not look up; her marred muzzle swung low and the faded fury upon silver spine made living tapestry by the origins of all her shivering. A muted sob is caught fast with the piercing of fangs into the shorn lower lip; the quieted and heaving breaths smothered by the cinching of throat, the slathering of tongue to the roof of mouth. The vaulted ceiling feels heavy; the crag grasping, the steam constricting; remnants of all that is gone and, she thinks, gone for-ever lain across her thin shoulders and bent back;
and it is only the preternatural feat that is all that she has felt within herself in myriad manner for Mahler that would move her; but there is no strength left within her and no surety, now, that he still looked upon her as desirable for look! She weeps so!
withering, wilting— shuddering and stilling again again again with everything of her that is aching, in this most ancient of moments—

"Andraste,"  she insists with salted, dumb lips; begs;
but it was Aurëwen — entirely Aurëwen who wilted to stone and felt not the warmth of the waters.

All is as it was once, then.