The World Knows Not
Apr. 14th, 2009 03:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shosenThey’re staying in Winterhoof, ignoring the not-wolf glaring daggers from the corner. He can’t really remember what he said to earn the outright death threat, but thinks it might have been his literal interpretation of “fuck you.”
He knows it’s not an offer — wouldn’t accept if it was because the lovesick elf is a pretty decent guy — but it seems to shut her up. From what he’s seen, that’s a difficult task.
The northlands are as cold as she’d said. He’s almost forgotten what warmth is, hadn’t had a good enough grasp before coming here to hold onto it now. He feels a little odd when his grasping mind pulls out a night sharing blankets with friends and says, “there, it’s that.” Seems like he should have something else, something connected to one who really had made an offer, but it’s been too long since he accepted any the memories might as well be fantasy.
Doesn’t seem as important as it had when he was young and wild. Doesn’t hurt as much as it had when he heart was fresh torn out. Doesn’t appeal as well as it had when he hadn’t known an ice-glow behind his eyes.
The mouthy girl always complains he should be cold. He is, but it’s so deep inside she can’t feel it. Not unless he pulls it out to freeze the water under their feet. Wonders why they don’t make the connection when they wander out beside him.
Wonders, sometimes, if he’d just melt away from the inside out if he went home now. Would it be enough, dancing by the fires, or would he have to drag himself to the Blasted Lands or the Searing Gorge. Go deep inside where the world is as hot as he is cold. He’ll have to try it.
Later, though. The creepy druid pulled him back from the crumbling world saying all help was needed here, even his. So he’ll do what he can with frozen core and blood rage, and let them use him up if they can. If they can’t, then he’ll go back. Throw himself in the fire to try and remember warm.
He knows it’s not an offer — wouldn’t accept if it was because the lovesick elf is a pretty decent guy — but it seems to shut her up. From what he’s seen, that’s a difficult task.
The northlands are as cold as she’d said. He’s almost forgotten what warmth is, hadn’t had a good enough grasp before coming here to hold onto it now. He feels a little odd when his grasping mind pulls out a night sharing blankets with friends and says, “there, it’s that.” Seems like he should have something else, something connected to one who really had made an offer, but it’s been too long since he accepted any the memories might as well be fantasy.
Doesn’t seem as important as it had when he was young and wild. Doesn’t hurt as much as it had when he heart was fresh torn out. Doesn’t appeal as well as it had when he hadn’t known an ice-glow behind his eyes.
The mouthy girl always complains he should be cold. He is, but it’s so deep inside she can’t feel it. Not unless he pulls it out to freeze the water under their feet. Wonders why they don’t make the connection when they wander out beside him.
Wonders, sometimes, if he’d just melt away from the inside out if he went home now. Would it be enough, dancing by the fires, or would he have to drag himself to the Blasted Lands or the Searing Gorge. Go deep inside where the world is as hot as he is cold. He’ll have to try it.
Later, though. The creepy druid pulled him back from the crumbling world saying all help was needed here, even his. So he’ll do what he can with frozen core and blood rage, and let them use him up if they can. If they can’t, then he’ll go back. Throw himself in the fire to try and remember warm.