Desreal: oh, same old, same old; how's mars? --

horse stock by colourize @ deviantArt ; photomanipulation by Lore

“ Death is the only god that comes when you call. ”
- Roger Zelazny

There are many unlikely things in the world. Things like children born of midnight liaisons with unlikely partners, spiraling closer and closer to an inevitable end; things like a crippled boy moving closer and closer to a position of honor among more seasoned warriors; things like the wraith having the fortitude to take on a savage’s blood and suck it dry.

The world is made of unlikely things.

That’s what you get for dealing with shadows, the wind gives in an equivalent of a shrug, which is to say: an abrupt flutter in the pressure around us. You never know when they will stab you in the back.

Except I’m one as well.

As my father, my mother, my sister, my daughters…

Imagine that.

Well, then we are set, and from then, it’s an easy matter to shake the chains loose out of my neck and into the ground beneath. There’s something exquisite about the loss of an element, the abrupt departure of that familiar heat in my veins, all the way down to the bones. I can’t help the shudder when it leaves me, uncoils harmless and almost lifelessly against the soft, new, virgin snow.

When it’s around his neck, silver against the darkness and the dark crystal like a black hole against it, I can’t suppress a smile; it doesn’t suit him. It’s a girl’s relic, alright.

I can almost feel the intricate work of the elements, faraway, like static, of relic against shard and the primal, unnatural groan as the connection snaps…

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