Post by Lone Dancer on Oct 1, 2022 4:32:18 GMT
The wind blew frigid through the plains of ice and snow, causing her cloak to flap, letting precious warmth fade away. The otherwise quiet night was disturbed by her crunching footsteps, her claws sinking into the snow with every step. She could hardly feel them at this point. However, her right arm was used to clutch the most important thing close to her chest. It had to remain warm, it was too fragile already. Biting back helpless tears, she continued on her lost path.
Mourne trailed her claw over the remnants of footprints in the snow, the blizzard wind making quick work to hide away the trail. Looking ahead, the expanse of snow stretched to the horizon. But such distances hasn’t stopped her before. With the impressions recent, Mourne continued on.
The arrival of the blizzard was disastrous, and she had to bunker down. Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, she kept her close, to keep it warm in this freezing environment. Streaks of silvery white swirled the otherwise ebony gloss. With shuddering breaths, she mustered what little strength she had left to begin singing lullabies, her tears frozen to her face. She wanted to curse her fate, and the one who caused it, but she had no other strength to bear. All focus now was on the egg, as she drew her wing near. Even now, she can still feel the ghost of the missing one.
The winds kicked up ice and snow, and Mourne would ignore it as it pelted off her icy scales. A singular full moon shone brightly above, painting the landscape in luminescent silver. It lit the way for her and for that, Mourne thanked her old friend. Saying a prayer to the dead gods, she continued tracking the now vanished trail. But such cosmetic things didn’t bother her. She still held its memory.
She resigned herself to her fate, knowing there was no saving her. She was too far gone, too far lost. What she despaired more, was the fate of her child. It would never hatch, to grow, to be loved by their mother and father. It would never experience life, its ups and downs. No, it would all end here. Snow began to pile onto her frozen body, covering every black scale and weathered fabric. Now incredibly lethargic, she closed her eyes. She had no more strength to keep them open.
Mourne began to brush off the pileup on the body, unearthing it from the snow. It was stiff, frozen to the touch. Dead. But Mourne cared little for the dragon, because far more important matters were at claw. Once she confirmed the egg was intact, she pushed open the eyelids of the corpse.
Eversoul blinked rapidly at the sight. Shakily, she began to stand up, with the assistance of the Icewing in front of her. She met their eyes, or rather, their lack of them. Wrapped around the Icewing’s head was a rose blindfold, but two white lights pierced through. They only had one horn, the other broken off. Moving her gaze down, she noticed they wore a moon crescent pendant, gleaming in the light. Eversoul was certain that it was made of the broken horn. Purple and silver paints decorated their legs in random patterns.
Behind the Icewing, stood the three full moons, impossibly close. Behind those, galaxies and nebula stretched all across the night sky. Beneath her, the snow was no longer cold, but soft and comforting. The world no longer felt solid, but ethereal, otherworldly.
“Am I-”
“Dead. Yes.” Both of their voices echoed across the expanse, lingering in the air for a melodic moment before fading away to silence.
“What about-”
“Your child yet lives, if barely.”
“I have nothing to offer, but please, help them.”
The strange Icewing regarded Eversoul calmly, before looking upwards.
“Time is of the essence. I would say your goodbyes now.”
Eversoul felt herself become weightless, her once frozen body preparing to make way for the sky. She turned to face her egg, wanting to caress it, but some force was slowly pulling her upwards. Reaching out, she spoke her goodbye.
“Stay warm, my love.”
The light of the moons began to intensify, and the landscape began to fade away. And Eversoul blinked.
An egg stood all alone within the snow. Ebony black, with swirling streaks of silver. Brushing off the snow, Mourne delicately picked it up with one claw. Bringing it close to her chest, she began to walk back with a quiet lullaby. Frigid winds blew away all traces of clawprints, as the Icewing vanished into the snowy expanse.
Her old friend lit the way for her, as always. And as always, Mourne thanked them.
Mourne trailed her claw over the remnants of footprints in the snow, the blizzard wind making quick work to hide away the trail. Looking ahead, the expanse of snow stretched to the horizon. But such distances hasn’t stopped her before. With the impressions recent, Mourne continued on.
The arrival of the blizzard was disastrous, and she had to bunker down. Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, she kept her close, to keep it warm in this freezing environment. Streaks of silvery white swirled the otherwise ebony gloss. With shuddering breaths, she mustered what little strength she had left to begin singing lullabies, her tears frozen to her face. She wanted to curse her fate, and the one who caused it, but she had no other strength to bear. All focus now was on the egg, as she drew her wing near. Even now, she can still feel the ghost of the missing one.
The winds kicked up ice and snow, and Mourne would ignore it as it pelted off her icy scales. A singular full moon shone brightly above, painting the landscape in luminescent silver. It lit the way for her and for that, Mourne thanked her old friend. Saying a prayer to the dead gods, she continued tracking the now vanished trail. But such cosmetic things didn’t bother her. She still held its memory.
She resigned herself to her fate, knowing there was no saving her. She was too far gone, too far lost. What she despaired more, was the fate of her child. It would never hatch, to grow, to be loved by their mother and father. It would never experience life, its ups and downs. No, it would all end here. Snow began to pile onto her frozen body, covering every black scale and weathered fabric. Now incredibly lethargic, she closed her eyes. She had no more strength to keep them open.
Mourne began to brush off the pileup on the body, unearthing it from the snow. It was stiff, frozen to the touch. Dead. But Mourne cared little for the dragon, because far more important matters were at claw. Once she confirmed the egg was intact, she pushed open the eyelids of the corpse.
Eversoul blinked rapidly at the sight. Shakily, she began to stand up, with the assistance of the Icewing in front of her. She met their eyes, or rather, their lack of them. Wrapped around the Icewing’s head was a rose blindfold, but two white lights pierced through. They only had one horn, the other broken off. Moving her gaze down, she noticed they wore a moon crescent pendant, gleaming in the light. Eversoul was certain that it was made of the broken horn. Purple and silver paints decorated their legs in random patterns.
Behind the Icewing, stood the three full moons, impossibly close. Behind those, galaxies and nebula stretched all across the night sky. Beneath her, the snow was no longer cold, but soft and comforting. The world no longer felt solid, but ethereal, otherworldly.
“Am I-”
“Dead. Yes.” Both of their voices echoed across the expanse, lingering in the air for a melodic moment before fading away to silence.
“What about-”
“Your child yet lives, if barely.”
“I have nothing to offer, but please, help them.”
The strange Icewing regarded Eversoul calmly, before looking upwards.
“Time is of the essence. I would say your goodbyes now.”
Eversoul felt herself become weightless, her once frozen body preparing to make way for the sky. She turned to face her egg, wanting to caress it, but some force was slowly pulling her upwards. Reaching out, she spoke her goodbye.
“Stay warm, my love.”
The light of the moons began to intensify, and the landscape began to fade away. And Eversoul blinked.
An egg stood all alone within the snow. Ebony black, with swirling streaks of silver. Brushing off the snow, Mourne delicately picked it up with one claw. Bringing it close to her chest, she began to walk back with a quiet lullaby. Frigid winds blew away all traces of clawprints, as the Icewing vanished into the snowy expanse.
Her old friend lit the way for her, as always. And as always, Mourne thanked them.