And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw.
In Raymond's mind, no one is made to be broken. They are made only because creating new life is life's only purpose, and it is the purpose that living creatures impose upon reality that breaks them. Isra was no more born to fall than a condor, but statistics say that someone must fall. On the day the Arma Mountains fell victim to the cold fire of tyranny, Isra's dice rolled poorly.
But, like a blade in forge-fire, she could emerge stronger than before - should she so choose.
Isra reached out to touch the devil's shoulder, an acceptance of the proverbial hand he had offered in truce. What she'd said was true, though it made the red stallion feel no less sour for his part. The writing went up on the wall long before he had ever been in a position to do anything about it, and it seemed the nature of the neglectful to abandon than to answer.
Who will you be now? the bay mare asked, sheltering behind the force of his personality like the moon slipping quietly into the earth's red shadow, forgetting in the hour of eclipse where her light shines brightest.
Raymond's answering smile said a lot without any words at all. Of course he would always be himself - the red stallion would never accept any less than that - but even that was more complicated than a brief conversation among the dead could hope to hash out. He was air and iron, a great leveler, as easily a saint as a devil should the situation require it. The smile came with a friendly, knowing tilt of the head.
It wasn't bad to be a devil.
He followed her eyes to the sites of the now-sleeping dead, guessing at what troubling thoughts might swirl beneath the mist of her gaze. "Don't carry them with you when you go." He turned away, headed out of Denocte and back toward the rest of Novus. Pausing, he offered a last parting glance over his shoulder. "You gave them their peace; now you need to find your own."
With that and a curt, grateful nod, the red stallion put Isra and her restful dead behind him.
But, like a blade in forge-fire, she could emerge stronger than before - should she so choose.
Isra reached out to touch the devil's shoulder, an acceptance of the proverbial hand he had offered in truce. What she'd said was true, though it made the red stallion feel no less sour for his part. The writing went up on the wall long before he had ever been in a position to do anything about it, and it seemed the nature of the neglectful to abandon than to answer.
Who will you be now? the bay mare asked, sheltering behind the force of his personality like the moon slipping quietly into the earth's red shadow, forgetting in the hour of eclipse where her light shines brightest.
Raymond's answering smile said a lot without any words at all. Of course he would always be himself - the red stallion would never accept any less than that - but even that was more complicated than a brief conversation among the dead could hope to hash out. He was air and iron, a great leveler, as easily a saint as a devil should the situation require it. The smile came with a friendly, knowing tilt of the head.
It wasn't bad to be a devil.
He followed her eyes to the sites of the now-sleeping dead, guessing at what troubling thoughts might swirl beneath the mist of her gaze. "Don't carry them with you when you go." He turned away, headed out of Denocte and back toward the rest of Novus. Pausing, he offered a last parting glance over his shoulder. "You gave them their peace; now you need to find your own."
With that and a curt, grateful nod, the red stallion put Isra and her restful dead behind him.
@Isra
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
