[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by Severus on November 9, 2008, 2:34 am, in reply to "thread..." “What we need is hatred. She was his prize. After so long away, he had forgotten the exhilaration that came with a job well done, and his victory tasted that much sweeter because of it. Some far-removed part of himself – no, not himself, the shard – quietly reminded him that it could be even better, but for now he ignored it. Of course, it would take a supreme optimist to think that he had gone to retrieve Accendare in person. Old habits die hard and old grudges die harder, and the Wraith had never stopped hating Andarin because it was Requiem’s land. He was still sure that setting one hoof into the wolves’ territory would warrant a thorough beating, even if most of its populace didn’t even know his name let alone his feud. Such is life – Severus resists change. Instead, he had spoken to the wind, willing it to seek her out despite her fiery element. He had a very poor track record with fire horses, with a rather significantly scarred ear from his prize’s own false father for his troubles. It’s terribly ironic that it was Icarus who had saved the rest of him from Dorian’s implacable ire – but nobody remembers these things anymore. Personally he knew but little about Accendare beyond her inauspicious beginning. He’d quite simply vanished into thin air (no pun intended) and missed all the fun as he was wont to do. But there was little that Severus didn’t find out eventually if he walked far enough, so here he was now, sending the wind out to retrieve her from the mountain kingdom with a simple message. Accendare, I am waiting for you. His throat was unseasonably warm, and (quite naturally now) the shard added its thoughts to his own, for only him to hear. Well done, brother. As if it had anything to do with this.
71.170.123.38
From it, our ideas are born.”
- the wraith.
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