Warriors unfold whether we're young or old
Sometimes we take and we pillage for gold
She came from beyond the mountains.
Silent in approached, subtle in movement, glimmering white like an icy reflection as she passes through the unexplored avenues of her home’s outskirts and ventures down their slopes with grace. She emerges from the snow caps with the demure of an awaiting avalanche; threatening and dangerous.
His screams still echo between her lobes and whenever she would shut her eyes the writhing image of her captured father smouldered by flames haunts. Melting skin and the scent of burning flesh hung fresh in her mind and she couldn’t shake herself free of the imagery.
But regret was for the weak.
Now she stands at the foot of the mountain and looks up without expression to kink her features. As she surveys, she thinks, lost.
Without direction she remains still. She does not dare to close her eyes, Daunt could not bear the image of death much longer. The temperatures were unfamiliarly warmer and as she stares up the ascending path she had journeyed down whilst her eyes begin to water.
But closing them? She refuses.
Bare in the open wind without the shielding walls of caves another unfamiliar feeling came. Vulnerability. Serenely she eyed her the surroundings that her path was going to take and she ponders. A selected part of her wishes to see the aftermath of her incursion just so she could rid herself of the horrific images prolonging in her mind whereas the rest of her wishes to either stay and live a secluded life her or, to travel further into the unknown.
The unknown.
Beyond the borders of all she loves and knows yet she knows she cannot return. It shall never be an option and as she gazes down the rocky path before her, eyes stinging from the reluctance to blink, she takes herself yet further down and decides. She bits her tender lip so hard that a tickle of black blood drips from her jaw.
The unknown.
ooc:
tags:
Titles deserved and the dead will not rise
It's kinda my fault when the childen all cry
