Kaladin had never before feared for his life. He recalled his short few days of glory, flying high above, cities falling at his very whim through the power that surged through his veins. Shifting his form as he desired, his very being as malleable as clay. He could not have been killed, for one must be mortal to face death. When you could simply reform as another being, when the only part that remained static was an ethereal soul, age dared not touch you, nor any bodily harm threaten you. But then, he'd fallen.
Tethered to the earth, each step heavy with cursed mortality. Trapped in chains heavy as the acts he had committed, lives he had stolen, in his brief brush with true freedom. But he had never thought of those lives before - never stopped to contemplate the extinguishing of flames that would be necessary to bring the world to life anew. Not until this very moment had he ever felt what they must have.
Feet slippery on the earth, he rushed ahead of his companions, barely keeping touch with the ground as the wind sought greedily to sweep him up and toss him into the canyon below, a meal for vultures once the clouds should lift. His heart beat loud as a bass drum, adrenaline a soft purr of violin strings in his orchestra of panic. "Damn,"he growled, as the unsteady earth beneath his feet crumbled like breadcrumbs. He fell back, barely managing to keep his footing as his clumsy, treacherous body weighed him forward into the gorge. The stones below seemed like the teeth of some monstrous predator, bared in preparation for its next meal.
He was walking with eight hundred years of experience, he realized. But his companions...he turned in a half-rear, his mane thrown around his face and tangled about his ears. It was a brief glance, but a worried one, as he ensured himself that he had not lost them in the gale. The young pegasus had fallen behind, his ridiculously elongated tail an obvious nuisance in weight as it became drenched in the pouring rain. Still, he found himself glad that they, at least, had not abandoned him, when clearly the rest of the world had.
In a mad, final dash, he managed to duck into the cavern. After a moment's relief, he glanced about himself, suddenly realizing that he had escaped from one deadly trap to a second. As his companions crowded around him, he found his breath catching in his chest, the press of bodies in a stone sepulchre all to familiar. He fidgeted beneath the cold glare of the stones, trying to ignore the dreadful cold that emanated from them. The air became thick all of a sudden, and his pants grew heavier even as his body gained respite.
Oh, not now...not now... he cursed this mortal body, this clumsy sack of meat and bone that would have him slipping off cliffsides in one moment and choking on his own breaths the next. "We need to get out of here," he growled, though he knew it was as useless of an idea as hiding beneath a tree. "I can't be here..."He was shaking, he realized, to complete mortification - some part cold, some part adrenaline, and some part pure, frigid fear. He was back in his tomb...if the mountain collapsed upon them now, he would be trapped for another eternity, and this time it would be a slumber from which he would not wake.
@Damascus @Seraphina Kaladin may or may not be incredibly claustrophobic....
Tethered to the earth, each step heavy with cursed mortality. Trapped in chains heavy as the acts he had committed, lives he had stolen, in his brief brush with true freedom. But he had never thought of those lives before - never stopped to contemplate the extinguishing of flames that would be necessary to bring the world to life anew. Not until this very moment had he ever felt what they must have.
Feet slippery on the earth, he rushed ahead of his companions, barely keeping touch with the ground as the wind sought greedily to sweep him up and toss him into the canyon below, a meal for vultures once the clouds should lift. His heart beat loud as a bass drum, adrenaline a soft purr of violin strings in his orchestra of panic. "Damn,"he growled, as the unsteady earth beneath his feet crumbled like breadcrumbs. He fell back, barely managing to keep his footing as his clumsy, treacherous body weighed him forward into the gorge. The stones below seemed like the teeth of some monstrous predator, bared in preparation for its next meal.
He was walking with eight hundred years of experience, he realized. But his companions...he turned in a half-rear, his mane thrown around his face and tangled about his ears. It was a brief glance, but a worried one, as he ensured himself that he had not lost them in the gale. The young pegasus had fallen behind, his ridiculously elongated tail an obvious nuisance in weight as it became drenched in the pouring rain. Still, he found himself glad that they, at least, had not abandoned him, when clearly the rest of the world had.
In a mad, final dash, he managed to duck into the cavern. After a moment's relief, he glanced about himself, suddenly realizing that he had escaped from one deadly trap to a second. As his companions crowded around him, he found his breath catching in his chest, the press of bodies in a stone sepulchre all to familiar. He fidgeted beneath the cold glare of the stones, trying to ignore the dreadful cold that emanated from them. The air became thick all of a sudden, and his pants grew heavier even as his body gained respite.
Oh, not now...not now... he cursed this mortal body, this clumsy sack of meat and bone that would have him slipping off cliffsides in one moment and choking on his own breaths the next. "We need to get out of here," he growled, though he knew it was as useless of an idea as hiding beneath a tree. "I can't be here..."He was shaking, he realized, to complete mortification - some part cold, some part adrenaline, and some part pure, frigid fear. He was back in his tomb...if the mountain collapsed upon them now, he would be trapped for another eternity, and this time it would be a slumber from which he would not wake.
