Desreal: Until then, I'll be your friendly stalker as usual.

horse stock by colourize @ deviantArt ; photomanipulation by Lore

“ welcome to Castle Anthrax. ”

My timing is hardly coincidental, the wind purrs around us, carding cold fingers through his mottled mane. He is pretty, my Tray-tray, and he’ll be even prettier with a nasty case of boils and burns and cuts. Or maybe that is just the fever talking; I can feel it in every muscle and bone, sinking deep and making me sluggish. Ah, the joys of disease. Suits me though, doesn’t it?, I smile, winter boiling against us in spite of spring. I love it.

Well, if you can’t fight it… take it and make it yours.

And pass it along, so everyone suffers just as much as you do.

Ooh, I have a secret for you, they whisper. If winds can be coy, mine are; they seem to almost shimmer and shimmy with something akin to excitement. They are usually playful things, winds, until they tear you apart.

It happens more often than we’d like to admit.

The chain – looped almost as if alive through the locks of my mane, around my neck and back, glows; I can feel her, moving in and out of my mind, an idea or a concept rather than a presence; something not my own. They are conflicting emotions – love, regret, wonder, things that do not belong in me, things that are not mine.

Lovely. I get rid of mind control just to have someone take residence in my brain.

You see, père gave me this lovely artifact, and I turn my head so he can see it: resting against the side of my neck, nestled in mane, is a bloodstained silver pendant. A black crystal rests between the bodies of a phoenix and a dragon – and, inside of it, something like fire, or blood, swirling in endless spirals.

I can’t see it, but I can feel it pulse, fire shocking through my veins.

Tyriel, they warble, and it’s not me, it’s not them – it’s her voice, coming through wind and storm laced with fire, from my thoughts and to the thoughts of the air; won’t you say hello to your mother?

Cue shocked ~~Betrayal~~ Tyriel in 3… 2… 1…

FENRISULFR
an axe age, a sword age, shields will be cloven;
a wind age, a wolf age, ere the world sinks.