you are haunted like every other holy thing;
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
The last thing he sees is the monster, Raum’s monster, turned towards him as bodies flee around him, as the great beast thrashes and roars and turns all in its wake into stone, and he does not have the chance to turn and flee. Not when it catches him in its gaze, mid-turn, his body contorted into the shape of a frightened, wild creature, tail lifted high as if to warn the others to run. Not when the stone ripples across his skin, freezing him in place, and he would scream if he could move his mouth, because it felt like fire licking over his skin, consuming him until suddenly he could feel nothing anymore.
When the chaos settles, he is one statue among many that rest among the streets of Solterra, the gems on his antlers gleaming from their setting of stone each time the light catches them; perpetually frozen as if ready to leap, ready to run, and yet never moving.
The sun rises. The sun sets. He is unaware of the passage of time.
Until.
Until?
He becomes aware of the beating of his own heart once more. How long has it been beating? How long has he been able to hear? He loses count of how many times it beats before he can move his ears again, just the faintest twitch, and the stone encasing them sloughs away from the movement.
Like a snake shedding its skin, he begins to stretch out cramped muscles beneath his prison, and cracks begin to spread across the stone surface, slowly at first and spiderwebbing into something larger until the first large piece falls off his shoulder with a sharp crack! The rest follow quickly, now, until nothing remains of his statue except the dust that is scattered across his back, and he blinks into the light like a man reborn, unable to see for how bright everything seems beneath the newfound sun.
When the chaos settles, he is one statue among many that rest among the streets of Solterra, the gems on his antlers gleaming from their setting of stone each time the light catches them; perpetually frozen as if ready to leap, ready to run, and yet never moving.
The sun rises. The sun sets. He is unaware of the passage of time.
Until.
Until?
He becomes aware of the beating of his own heart once more. How long has it been beating? How long has he been able to hear? He loses count of how many times it beats before he can move his ears again, just the faintest twitch, and the stone encasing them sloughs away from the movement.
Like a snake shedding its skin, he begins to stretch out cramped muscles beneath his prison, and cracks begin to spread across the stone surface, slowly at first and spiderwebbing into something larger until the first large piece falls off his shoulder with a sharp crack! The rest follow quickly, now, until nothing remains of his statue except the dust that is scattered across his back, and he blinks into the light like a man reborn, unable to see for how bright everything seems beneath the newfound sun.
@El Toro
you were only a boy,
when you were thrown into a war.
when you were thrown into a war.
